Chapter Eight

Rosamunde made her way down the smooth wooden stairs of the Heartstone townhouse. The storm had picked up in fervor and the wind was relentless in its pursuit of finding entrance to the building. She padded silently down the hall to the sitting room.

Her mind was too busy to allow her to settle and she felt restless. Way beyond the time when people were awake. If she were home, she would sit close as she dared by the fire in their sitting room and squint at the words in the books she loved so much.

This sitting room wasn’t warm but she didn’t care, she could just turn around and head back upstairs. Her goal was to ease the restlessness within her.

A maid stood behind her when she turned and she barely stopped her scream.

“Did you need something, miss?”

“No. I was merely walking around.”

“There is a fire going in the library and I would be happy to bring you some chocolate to help warm you, if that pleases you.”

She would love to go there. A library and no accusing eyes judging what she was looking at? Heaven.

Still… Years of being berated wasn’t easy to ignore.

The maid nudged her down the hall two doors and opened a door for her. The warmth from inside reached out and wrapped around her like a warm blanket. As her gaze moved around the softly lit interior, Rosamunde drank in the shelves upon shelves of spines, calling to her.

“I’ll be back shortly with the chocolate, miss.” The maid closed the door behind her and left her alone.

Unsure of where to start, Rosamunde didn’t move, simply smiled. All the adventure in this room merely waiting for her to jump in.

After a few moments of absorbing the extent of what had been presented to her, she moved deeper into the room. Large, with two fireplaces, one on either side, she didn’t feel any chill as she headed to the nearest bookcase. The wood was all dark and polished to a veritable shine. The large windows had heavy velvet drapes drawn over them but she imagined how it would look with those open, allowing the moonlight to stream in during the warmer months.

A single knock preceded the maid’s return. She set the serving tray down on a squatty table by the fire and clasped her hands before her.

“Anything else for you tonight, miss?”

“No, thank you.”

“Goodnight, miss.” A curtsey and she was gone.

A single look to the chocolate and she was again focused on the titles before her.

“Most women would go for the chocolate and ignore the books.”

Her body lit up at the low thrum that skated through the room.

Rosamunde bit her lower lip but she didn’t turn from the shelf.

The array of author names and book titles was incredible. Jonathan Swift. Voltaire. Daniel Defoe. Frankenstein . Gulliver’s Travels . Leaves of Grass . Some Jane Austen. Marquis de Sade.

“Do you think staring at a bookshelf will stop me from speaking to you, lioness?”

“I’ve discovered that you will do anything you wish, my lord.”

His chuckle reverberated through her, and she realized this man could be detrimental to her on so many levels. It would be so easy to fall for a man like him. His protective streak was huge and she envied the woman that would be directed toward.

“That is true. Ask my mother, she knows I tend to do what makes me happy.”

He moved up behind her and she swallowed hard.

“Perhaps you want to read something more along these lines.” He dragged his finger along several spines.

She looked at them, a series called The Merryland Books . “Why?”

“They have been described as showcasing ‘The female anatomy metaphorically as land ripe for exploration’. And I for one think you should be explored.” He braced his hands on either side of her, nuzzling her neck.

“Personally,” she said, having found some strength not having his intense gaze upon her face, “I’ve wanted to explore male anatomy over the female form.”

“You’re a lot more than you want people to see, lioness.”

The sob burst from her with such haste she couldn’t begin to stop it. Cheeks heating with an embarrassed flush, she hated how she couldn’t stop the subsequent ones.

“Let it go, baby. No one here but us. No one will know if you allow yourself to feel.”

“I’m not your baby,” she snapped. “I’m unwanted and unloved!” The words tumbled from the darkest part of her heart, pushing beyond the fear that had them locked away.

He nipped the shell of her ear. “Let it go.”

Turning so they were chest to chest, she let her fists fly. She screamed, raged and cried until she had nothing left. Then, body sagging, she barely comprehended being lifted and moved.

More heat pushed against her and she realized he’d repositioned her by the fire on a lounge. But it was more than that. She sat tucked tight against him, her head beneath his chin and his strong arms around her. Protective. Caring. Silent in their strength.

“I overheard her today.”

He skimmed a hand up and down her arm. “What did she say?”

Rosamunde wasn’t sure how he knew who she spoke about or if he simply didn’t care. As he didn’t ask who, she didn’t say, merely answered his question.

“Said I wasn’t hers. I was an embarrassment to the entire family because he slept around and got a scullery maid with child.” Full shudders wracked her body. “It’s why she has never been nice to me. Why she hates me so much and why she’s perfectly fine to sell me out to save the others. I’m. Not. Hers.”

Sinking into his broad chest, she fought to slow her breathing. His touch was soothing and constant as he moved it up and down her arm. He didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered by the fact she’d soaked his shirt or that she—no better than a stranger—had fallen apart in front of him.

“If I had the words to take away your pain, lioness, I would.” His tone was low and his breath fanned over her ear, awakening another heat in her belly. “Nothing I say can make you hurt less.”

“You must think the worst of me.”

Bryn leaned her away enough to tip her chin and find her gaze. “You can’t possibly know what I think of you other than that I’m completely in awe of how strong you are.”

She wiped her hand across her nose and rolled her eyes. “Strong?” Rosamunde shook her head. “I’m the least strong person in the world. I roll over and take everything people push at me, because I wanted to be loved.”

“Really?” He cocked an eyebrow. “I seem to recall you taking swings at me. Multiple times. And enjoying it.” His wink offset any of the fresh panic that swamped her.

“You told me to,” she reminded him.

“I did. Let me ask you this. Now that you know the truth, what are you going to do about it?”

Rosamunde shrugged as she wriggled off his lap and sat on a cushion away from his tempting shelter. As she stared at him, he pushed off the seat with the ease of a big cat she’d seen once in a cage. This man was a lot like that beast. While he may be caged there was something inherently wild and dangerous about him. People may think he was tamed and under control, but that the furthest thing from the truth.

Right now, however, he poured her some of the decadent hot chocolate that had been brought in the room earlier. His hands, large and scarred, held the delicate cup as he offered it to her. The firelight glowed off bronze skin and she realized she wanted permission to touch.

Him.

Instead, she accepted the cup, curling her fingers around the vessel.

“Drink.”

He settled beside her, his thick thigh pressing against hers. Bryn leaned forward, resting elbows on his legs. She watched his fingers as he laced them between his knees. Short nails, square. Some bruising on a few of the nailbeds.

Strong hands, capable of protecting whatever he held dear—or inflicting serious injury on anyone or anything who happened to threaten those he loved.

“Cup to lips, baby. Drink, or I’ll have to come up with another way to make sure you do as I say.”

She may not fully understand this undercurrent of flirtatiousness between them, but then again, it wasn’t completely undercurrent.

The longer she spent around Bryn St. Martin the more she desired to have him be the one she got to experience pleasure with as opposed to someone she got set up with, even if they were one of his friends.

Still, there was that little devil on her shoulder that jabbed her with its pitchfork and had her asking, “Is that where you kiss me to share it? Because I’m not sure that’s a threat.”

Bryn nearly broke his fingers as her words danced around him. Taunting. Teasing. Tempting .

I’m leaving for America. I’m not the one who should show her into this world of pleasure.

“Drink, lioness.”

In his peripheral he witnessed her following his command. It was a good thing too, because his restraint with regards to her was waning. Faster than he’d ever thought possible.

Her small moan of pleasure shot desire through his blood directly to his cock. He squeezed his eyes shut and prayed for the strength to let this woman leave the room with her innocence intact.

When he had enough control over his erection, he turned on the cushion so he could face her. She watched him, and unlike other women he tended to run into, there was no calculation in her gaze.

He wasn’t worried about her trying to throw herself at him in a compromising position to get access to his name and wealth. Part of him hated that, because, damn it, he wanted to put her in that situation.

I need to get my head on straight.

Bryn knew he hadn’t been misunderstanding the desire he’d witnessed sparking from time to time when she watched him. Yet now she sat here watching him with nothing but acceptance.

But not of what I want her accepting.

Because the longer he spent in her presence, the more he wanted her to look at him like his parents watched each other.

“Have you given any thought to the man you’d like to learn about passion from?” It gutted him to ask, but they had a deal.

She sipped her chocolate like they were discussing the weather, no shame or embarrassment over his question, and he wasn’t sure how to take it. Had she? He sure as hell had, and it wasn’t anyone other than himself.

His jealousy surged forward and he struggled to wrangle it back under control.

She shrugged as the tip of her tongue snuck out and snagged the lingering chocolate at the corner of her mouth. “I haven’t. I thought it would be my husband. I know I’m not beautiful like everyone wishes for in a wife, but I had hoped he would be kind at least.”

He didn’t hear her fishing for compliments. This was simply how she’d been taught to view herself. Even so, he ground his jaw to keep from snapping at her for that view. He understood that this society had a certain look they believed was how people should be.

Instead he nodded and rested his shoulder against the blue damask backing of the lounge they shared. “So looks don’t matter, and I’m guessing since this is something you are keeping a secret you don’t care about his money.”

She flushed and he bit back a grin. Seriously, this woman had no idea how enchanting he found her. Her expression fell and his heart did that weird flipping, clenching thing.

“I’m not going to pretend that I know what goes on between people in the dark, but I don’t feel that I’m unreasonable to want to feel,” she shrugged again looking lost and uncertain, “I don’t know, something other than disgust.”

“It shouldn’t be in the dark with you, lioness, but daylight.”

Her flush went even deeper, and he needed more of it.

“Daylight?” A slight tremble to her word.

“Hell yes. So the sun could dance along your skin, shining on the different shades of reds hiding amongst the rich browns in your hair. So the flush of your skin could be tracked and your lover can see every. Single. Response. You give.”

Her hand trembled but she didn’t drop his gaze. She nibbled her lower lip and tipped her head to the side. “You’re trying to throw me off and keep my mind occupied.”

Bryn blinked once. “Is that what I’m trying to do?”

Rosamunde hesitated then gave a firm nod. “You think if you toss out comments like you are, I’ll get flustered and not think about how my life is less than ideal.” She finished the chocolate and put the cup down on the table near her. “And yes, you will make my skin red because these are all things I’ve been sheltered from, but I’m not going to back down. I know it’s not like you’re trying to seduce me, which means you are saying these things to shock me.”

He swallowed back his immediate comment about how wrong she was and simply smirked.

“Good, because I am looking forward to having discussions with you about fucking.”

Her eyes widened before she pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. “I will not be embarrassed. I have to learn this.” She inched closer to him and sighed. “Teach me about fucking.”

Yeah, he wasn’t going to be standing up anytime soon.

She scooted even nearer, enveloping him with the violet and mint scent he dreamed about every fucking night.

Let’s not forget how I wake. Her name on my lips and seed on the mattress.

Having her plump lips forming the words ‘fucking’ while she watched him with those big, innocent green eyes pumped more blood to his cock.

He bit the inside of his cheek until he had better grip on his control. “Not tonight.”

Her expression fell. Only briefly, but he saw it. Bryn spent far too much time studying and understanding this woman’s facial expressions.

A small upturn of her lips as she rose to her feet. “Of course, you have so many other more important things to do. Thank you, for what you did tonight.”

She walked to the door, glanced at him over her shoulder and gave a soft smile that he instinctively knew she didn’t give out to others, then walked out, leaving him alone.

Not moving until he didn’t doubt she had retreated up the stairs to the second floor, Bryn huffed out a frustrated breath.

He’d never craved anyone like he did his lioness. Falcon had been right and this was going to kill him. He was an idiot for agreeing to do this. I’m not going to be able to keep this strictly professional.

Expelling a huge sigh, he stretched out on the lounge, head on the cushion she’d been on, and in his mind he could still smell her alluring scent. The door opened but he didn’t open his eyes, simply draped his forearm over them and waited for the servants to pick up the service and leave him alone to wallow in his self-made misery.

“Will you be needing us to tend the fire, my lord?” A female voice.

“No thank you. I’m heading to bed.” He wasn’t about to engage with a maid this late in the night, or early in the morning, he wasn’t sure anymore.

He paid no attention to her response and tried to figure out his next move.

* * * *

Despite his late night, Bryn left the house early the next morning to take himself to the boxing academy, where he would be meeting her brother. At one minute till seven Lovell walked in the room.

Lovell Fletcher no longer had the same smug air surrounding him. The few guys he’d gone against in the ring had not pulled their punches. Having yet to step in the ring with him, Bryn cracked his neck, looking forward to the pleasure.

“Where’s my sister?”

Pausing in the act of unbuttoning his coat, Bryn held the watery blue gaze and slowly lifted an eyebrow.

“Excuse me?” His tone was the same he’d heard his father and grandfather use numerous times to those beneath them. Cold. Autocratic.

Lovell drew back like the tone had been unexpected and he’d forgotten whom he was speaking with.

“My sister went to your house with your sister. I don’t see her. Is she with you?”

“My lord or Lord Wetherstoft is how you may address me. I’ve not seen your sister this morning.” He finished unbuttoning then shrugged out of his coat. “Are you trying to imply something?” Disdain dripped from his words.

“Oh, God, no,” Lovell retorted with an ugly laugh-snort. “I know my sister isn’t your type. She’s not anyone’s type, given her size.”

“Get ready.”

Bryn turned and tossed his coat to the rack nearby and didn’t bother to watch it settle on the peg. It always landed there, no point to worry it wouldn’t this time. He stepped into the ring where people worked on their skills.

Even with his back turned, he knew the moment Lovell entered what Bryn considered his domain. Spinning around, he strode toward him. Lovell lifted his hands, but it wasn’t going to be enough. Bryn had far too much sexual frustration built up within him, and he was pissed at how this boy treated his sister.

One jab was all it took and the boy dropped like a stone. Standing over him, Bryn shot him a scathing look.

“Lesson one, never forget what I’ve told you.”

Lovell struggled to a seated position, wiping at the blood streaming from his nose. “I haven’t!”

With a jerk of his head to someone nearby, Bryn caught the cloth they tossed, pleased people who worked in this place knew how he liked things and he didn’t have to speak to tell them to give him a cloth. A look could do it. “You did,” he insisted. “I told you to watch how you speak to or about a lady, especially when that lady is your sister.”

Dropping the towel, he watched dispassionately as Lovell stopped the blood from falling from his nose with his shirt, as no one had given him a towel. He wasn’t as cocky when he pushed up to his feet this time.

“Lesson two, learn to read your opponent.”

Lovell shook his head. “I don’t understand.” He walked to a stack of towels by the ring and swiped one, using it to dab at his nose.

“You look at people and make an assumption. Like when you look at me, you think The Mutt.” Waving off his immediate denial, Bryn shook his head. “Don’t bother lying to me. You have it in your head that I’m less than you because of who my mother is. That’s your mistake. Because despite you thinking my mother is less worthy than other ladies here in London, you’re wrong. She’s a princess. I’m a damn prince, regardless of my skin color. Boxing isn’t like walking into White’s and demanding a table. Where they cater to your name. Here it doesn’t matter.”

Lovell looked at the towel and tossed it over his shoulder. “So there are people from all walks of life here.”

“Yes.” He walked around him. “Lesson three. Never let down your guard.”

Bryn struck again, sending him back down to the floor.