by Lauren Smith
Rosalind had to admit that it seemed like Regina did have some understanding of being powerless, but marrying Ashton would only worsen her situation.
Regina played with the ends of her plaited hair. “May I ask a question, my dear?”
“Of course.”
“My son has never shown an interest in marrying before, and I have tried to settle him down with countless suitable young ladies. Yet the night you arrived here, he seems intent on marrying you. I know my son. I know he would not let scandal force his hand on matrimony, not unless he was genuinely interested in a woman.” Regina paused, letting her silent question float between them.
What makes me different? Rosalind shook her head, trying to erase the insane assumption that followed. Ashton’s interest was logical, removing the pressure his mother still lay upon him regarding marriage.
“Have you considered that perhaps you have more power than you realize?” Regina asked.
Was Ashton’s mother suggesting what Rosalind had intended to do since she’d left London? That she seduce Ashton to get her property and fortune back? “What do you mean, Lady Lennox?”
Regina leaned in to whisper, even though there was no one to overhear them. “What I mean is this—a woman who can seduce a man often gets her way whenever she pleases. If you were to marry him as he wishes, you might be the one with the control over your fortunes. If he’s desperately in love with you, you could demand anything you wish of him, including control of your lands and property.”
That was not unlike what Emily had suggested—seducing Ashton into getting her own way. But did it always have to come to this? She had built her business with cunning and intelligence, not her body. Still, when the male sex held the upper hand in so many parts of society, one fought with the weapons one was provided. At this moment, Ashton was convinced she would willingly play along in his marriage charade in exchange for what was rightfully hers, and his mother was suggesting Rosalind seduce Ashton to the same end.
But why limit herself to the games of others? She could have smiled at her own cunning.
I shall let Ashton woo me to please his mother, and then I shall seduce him in return to convince his mother that I am playing her game. In the end I shall get my companies and assets back on my own terms.
Regina rose from her chair. “I know he doesn’t seem the type to fall in love. Two hours ago I would not have believed him capable of it, but there was something about the way he looked at you, my dear. Yes, I think love may not be out of his reach after all.”
“But I am not the sort of woman to deceive a man,” Rosalind said, hoping to hide that she was intending to do just that. “Honor is all I have left, and I won’t use my body as a tool to deceive him.”
It was a lie, since that was exactly what she intended, but for some reason she wanted to hold on to Regina’s respect. It made little sense that she liked Lady Lennox so much while she despised Ashton, but Regina had proven herself an intelligent woman and seemed nothing like her infuriating son.
“That is why you would be such a wonderful wife for him. What a conundrum we’re in.” Her laugh was a little bittersweet. “Well, rest tonight, my dear, and don’t fret. You are quite safe in this house. We shall see that you’re well cared for. Ashton is a gentleman, and I will remind him of that as often as is needed. If you like, I shall have the servants find you a separate room.”
“I suppose, except it would be better to stay here and tempt him, wouldn’t it?” It would be akin to sleeping next to a hungry wolf, but she’d set her mind to this course of action and needed to stick to it.
Regina smiled. “You may be right. But if you change your mind, ring for me.”
Rosalind had no intention of waking Lady Lennox should Ashton choose to take things too far. She was not above kneeing a man in the bullocks to escape him if she thought he meant to do anything against her will.
Yawning, Rosalind stood and followed Regina to the door, holding it open as Ashton’s mother slipped into the hall.
“Thank you, Lady Lennox.”
Regina patted her cheek. It had been too long since Rosalind had felt a mother’s touch.
By the time Ashton had returned with a tray of food, she was almost asleep in a chair by the fire.
“I thought perhaps a light meal would be better, in case your stomach gives you fits.” He set the tray down on the table between them. A bowl of hot soup and some bread with two glasses of wine were waiting for her.
He seated himself in the chair next to her and folded his hands in his lap. It was nerve-racking to be so keenly watched while she ate her dinner, but he would not look away.
“Your maid, she is still at the inn? Should I send for her?”
Swallowing a chunk of bread soaked in soup, Rosalind shook her head. “She’s at the inn, but she’s sleeping. Please do not send for her tonight. I’d hate to have her woken up. If my coach is repaired by tomorrow afternoon, she can return here with it.”
Ashton steepled his fingers as he seemed to think things through. “I shall make sure all of that is taken care of tomorrow morning.”
They ate in silence for a few minutes, which was surprisingly pleasant with the warmth of the fire and the soft pop and crack of the logs. She used to be afraid of silence after her mother died. It meant her father could be lurking around any corner, waiting to strike her. When she’d first left Scotland, she couldn’t stand such silence and had trouble sleeping in a quiet room. But now, a truly pleasant, safe silence made her feel calm in ways she hadn’t felt in years. She even felt safe enough to ask the question she knew he wouldn’t want her to ask.
“Will we be able to return to London?” She didn’t want to ask outright if he planned to let her go back to her home and remain there. The question of her debts was still a problem.
“Rosalind, I’m not letting you go. Not until we settle this situation between us, even if that takes longer than a week.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and staring deep into her eyes. She shivered, but it had little to do with the cold. From the moment she’d first met Ashton, she’d known he was dangerous. He was a man with quiet intensity, whose observant gaze missed nothing.
What frightened her more was the thought of him seeing through her, the English title and the fancy clothes, of him glimpsing the wounded lass who was afraid to let anyone close ever again.
“How did you come to marry your first husband?”
The firelight showed the hint of gold stubble on his jaw that, if left to grow into a beard, would make him even more attractive. She blinked, took a hasty sip of her wine and tried to smile.
“I never agreed to share the secrets of my past with you.”
“Fair enough. What if I shared my secrets with you in return? Ask me anything. Personal only. There is no room for business here tonight.”
Personal secrets? The offer was too tempting to resist. “Very well, but you must go first.”
He flashed a crooked grin. “I shall hold you to that. Ask away.”
This was a moment of importance. She could ask him anything, and she didn’t want to waste her question. There was one burning issue she’d wanted to know for months.
“Your friends, the ones the papers call the League of Rogues. How did you come to be? I’ve heard rumors, but I doubt they’re true.”
“Rumors?” His eyes were frosted now with displeasure.
“Yes, that you are spies for the Crown, or that you have a club where you sacrifice the virginity of willing maidens on a bed altar while the others watch, or that—”
“Good Lord, did the Quizzing Glass say we do that?” He burst out laughing. It was clearly not the type of rumors he’d been expecting her to share.
“Oh, this was another paper, one less flattering than the Glass. I swear that author seems to sing your praises while also teasing us with your scandals. It seems everyone wishes to have a piece of your story.”
“You mean wishes to invent. I can’t say I care for the at
tention those rags give us.”
“It’s not true then?”
He waved a hand dismissively. “We avoid virgins when possible, at least I do.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his booted feet at the ankles.
“Then how did you come together?” She was nearly done with her supper, and except for her curiosity at hearing his response, she would have fallen asleep. Her head seemed to weigh too much for her shoulders.
“The story is long and complicated, but I shall explain as briefly as I can. Charles Lonsdale had a history with a man at our school. This man dragged him from his chamber in the middle of the night. They quarreled and fought. In the end, he intended to drown Charles in the river.”
Rosalind covered her mouth in shock.
“Lucien and I were crossing the school grounds, returning from a night on the town, when we saw the struggle. Godric and Cedric came upon the river at the same time. The four of us worked together to get Charles safely out of the river. After that night, the five of us became inseparable.”
There were shadows in his eyes now, and Rosalind, although fatigued, did not miss that. There was more to the tale, much more, but she had a feeling he would not reveal those last few details for any reason.
“Your turn. How did you come to marry your husband?”
“I fled my father’s home. I came to a tavern, exhausted. Henry saw the state I was in and took me to the nearest blacksmith and we married over the anvil. Then he brought me to London so I did not have to return to Scotland ever again.”
She didn’t tell him everything, not about the home she’d left or the abuse she’d suffered before escaping her father. Those were not stories she would share with anyone unless she trusted the person completely.
“Do you miss it? Your home, I mean?”
She shrugged. The castle had never been a welcoming place, but the truth was she missed her brothers. But while her father still lived, she would not go back to see them.
“And your brothers? What of them?”
“I love them all, but as long as they remain in Scotland, I cannot see them.” She pulled the dressing robe tight and sighed. “My lord, could I trouble you for a glass of water?”
“Of course.” He rose from his chair and walked into the dressing room.
Rosalind rested her head against the back of the chair.
If I close my eyes for a brief moment, I won’t fall asleep…
Chapter Nine
Poor creature.
Ashton paused in the doorway between his bedchamber and the dressing room, a full jug of water in his hand. From where he stood, he could see Rosalind fast asleep in the chair by the fire.
After tonight’s events, she was worn out. It was a miracle she’d held out as long as she had. He set the jug of water down on the dresser and walked over to her chair. She did not stir as he cradled her in his arms and carried her to his bed. He set her down long enough to pull back the covers on one side, then picked her up again and placed her under them.
When he tried to tuck her hands under to keep them warm, she grasped his fingers and wouldn’t let go. The connection sent soft warmth through his chest. He didn’t want to let go of her hand. He pulled off his boots, then scooted her over in the bed so he could lie down beside her, still holding her hand in his. He lay there, watching the firelight play across her face and the shadows under her eyes.
He had learned much about his darling rival tonight, things that made him respect her that much more. The idea that she’d lived under the heavy hand of an abusive father vexed him, however. Godric had also lived such a life. He’d learned that the people he loved could hurt him, a lesson he had carried with him for far too long. It had taken the words and wisdom of Emily Parr to break down the duke’s defenses and prove to him that love could be gentle and kind, not full of pain.
Ashton brushed a lock of dark silky hair back from Rosalind’s face and tucked it behind one of her ears. She had such dainty little ears, ones he’d fantasized about nibbling as he slid into her over and over again.
He stifled a groan. It had been months since he’d taken a lover. He’d been so caught up in the League’s silent war with Hugo Waverly that he’d not bedded a woman in ages. He had too many people he cared about who needed his protection, and satisfying his own desires had taken secondary importance to his duty. Until this moment, finding measures to keep Waverly from destroying everything he held dear had been his main concern.
If only I knew what Waverly was dreaming up next…
Rosalind curled deeper into the pillows and released his hand so she could tuck it up against his chest, like a child. She had survived so much harshness. Ashton could let her have this sweet weakness here in bed, let her sleep deeply and without fear.
“I’ll watch over you.”
A soft knock on his bedchamber pulled away his attention. Jonathan and Charles both appeared in the doorway.
Ashton pressed a finger to his lips. They waited for him to carefully exit the bed without disrupting the sleeping Highland lass.
Once he was away from the bed, he joined his friends at the door.
“How is she?” Jonathan asked.
“Exhausted. She had quite an adventure trying to reach my house.”
“I imagine so, given the way she looked when you found her.” Charles started to laugh, but Ashton shot him a disapproving scowl.
“What? I thought that was your grand plan. To make her come to heel.”
Ashton gritted his teeth. “My plan was to remind her who was the better businessperson. I had no intention of her getting robbed, or having to spend the night waiting tables like a common bar wench, or sleeping on sacks of grain before walking here through a storm.”
Charles and Jonathan looked toward the woman in shock.
Jonathan shook his head. “Good God. That would be a hard night for any of us.”
“Remind me to place all my bets on that woman in any fight,” said Charles.
“I think, given the late hour, that I shall retire and keep watch over her. You both should rest as well. We have our hands full tomorrow clearing away the burned farmhouses.”
“Right.” Jonathan paused, then turned at Ashton. “Ash, I meant to tell you, your brother came in from London after you went upstairs. It seems he took a nasty fall and hurt himself during the storms. Your mother sent for the doctor, but he won’t be here until morning. If Lady Melbourne feels ill tomorrow, the doctor could look in on her as well.”
As always, Jonathan surprised Ashton with his thoughtfulness. He had many of his older brother’s wicked ways, but the same tenderness as well. He was a fine addition to the League.
“Thank you, Jon. I appreciate that. I’ll see you both in a few hours.” He bid them good night, but stopped them as they left. “Jonathan? What sort of injuries did he suffer? Is it serious?”
“Just his arm, I believe. He said he landed on his shoulder.”
Ashton nodded and quietly closed the door. He was halfway back in his bed next to Rosalind when a thought struck him.
Rafe riding out in the storm…with an injured arm.
His gaze shot to Rosalind, and he recalled what she had said about a highwayman who’d looked like him. The one she’d shot in the arm.
Hellfire and damnation!
If Rafe had done something so daft and foolish to pad his pockets for the gambling hells…
I’ll bloody kill him!
Ashton was temporarily lost in thoughts of getting his hands on his wayward brother until a soft little sound from her caught his attention. Strangling Rafe would have to wait until morning. He had more important matters to attend to.
He eased back onto his bed, lying close to Rosalind, but unable to justify taking her hand again, not when she was burrowed so deep beneath the warmth of the blankets.
“Sleep well, my wicked rival, so we might fight again tomorrow.”
*****
Rosalind had the most peculiar dream.
She was lyi
ng in bed with a man, held close against his long, lean muscled body, his warm breath stirring her hair as he breathed deep and slow. It was a strange and wondrous feeling to lie so close to a man she’d been battling in business for months and feel so protected.
Her husband had always kept a separate chamber for sleeping and only visited her bed once a week; then after a sweet kiss goodnight, he’d leave her to sleep alone. It was an older custom, one more suited to noble classes, but she understood that Henry wished to let her have her privacy when they weren’t together. It had been sweet, but then again, Henry had been a wonderful man. A safe harbor from the storms of her past.
But this…this was a lovely dream. She’d heard Emily and her friends speak about the joys of sleeping so close to a man for the entire night.
I mustn’t let such stories fill my mind before sleep.
Sure enough, when she opened her eyes, there was no man beside her. Morning light cut through the half-closed curtains. Just beyond the windowpanes she caught a glimpse of flowering trees with white blooms. She smiled. Springtime was always full of magic with the warm sun, the heady scent of flowers and green everywhere. It was as though the world could go on forever, with days that never ended and dreams that seemed tangible enough to touch.
Birds chattered in the leafy branches, wild and excited the way birds usually did following a harsh storm. Storm… The memory of the previous night jolted her awake, her heart pounding.
“Good heavens!”
This was not her bed. This was not her room.
She fell back against the pillows as she recalled the wild series of events that had left her in Ashton’s bed wearing a borrowed nightgown.
The door to the dressing room opened a moment later, and Ashton strode in, fully dressed and looking far too pleased with himself. His valet trailed behind, carrying a recently pressed cravat.
