Page 6 of The Good Girl's Guide to Rakes
Something tightened along his limbs, and it was only as he headed out of the small, devastated chamber and toward where his sister awaited a wedding that was not going to take place, that he could name the feeling: dread.
Chapter 2
Two weeks later
Steps approached the door, and the handle rattled as the person on the other side fitted their key into the lock. From his position flanking the door, Kieran exchanged a nod with Finn, who stood on the other side of the entrance to the rooms they shared with Dom. Out of readiness, Kieran had deliberately worn some of his older clothing, lest one of his favorite garments be torn in the scuffle. His allowance as a third son was generous, but he’d rather not dip into it in order to repair an extant coat.
The door swung open, and though the light was low, there was no mistaking the size and shape of the man who crossed the threshold.
“Now!” Finn commanded.
Kieran flung himself at the man, and Finn did the same. Both he and his brother spent several days a week at a pugilism academy, yet even after extensive work maintaining their strength and physicalcondition, it took both of them to wrestle the newcomer to the ground.
“What the fuck is this?” Dom snarled. “Get off me.”
“We’ll stop,” Finn panted, “if you agree to come quietly.”
“Come quietlywhere?” Dom demanded. “What the blazes is going on?”
“The honor of your presence is requested.” It wasn’t easy to attempt an explanation when busy trying to avoid a behemoth’s massive fists in significant parts of one’s anatomy.
“If you agree to be docile,” Finn added, evading an elbow to the windpipe, “we’ll get up. And afterward, we’ll all go to the Eagle for some pints, and everything will be rosy.”
“Afterwhat?” Dom’s struggles didn’t cease.
“Can’t tell you that,” Kieran said. “But it’s going to be quite simple and easy and utterly painless.”
After a few more futile attempts to throw Kieran and Finn from him, Dom stopped struggling. “You could’ve justaskedme to accompany you somewhere.”
“Given that no one has seen you in a fortnight,” Kieran said, his words breathless, “and the last time we did, you were running like hell away from the altar, we weren’t certain what your response might be.”
“An ambush in our shared rooms seemed the most sensible option,” Finn noted, also winded.
“Entirely sensible,” Dom echoed sardonically.
The fire popped in the grate as the three of them lay on the floor, valiantly attempting to regain their breaths. A moment passed, and then another. Finally, they staggered to their feet.
Briefly, Kieran debated whether or not to make his friend change his rumpled garments before they headed off on their errand, but now that he and Finn had managed to capture Dom, it was best not to dally. Already, Finn was scribbling a note, presumably to send ahead to the interested parties. The sooner Kieran and his brother delivered Dom to the destination, the sooner they could resume normal life.
“Best we move along,” Finn said, heading to the door.
When they reached the pavement outside their rooms on Henrietta Street, Finn gave the note and a coin to a waiting boy, who raced off to deliver it, while Kieran hailed a cab.
“Don’t think about it,” he warned Dom as his friend eyed the stretch of road, clearly considering flight.
“I’m bigger,” Dom said on a sigh, “but you two are faster.”
A cab pulled up, and Finn called to the driver, “Cavendish Square.”
Dom’s brows climbed. “We’re going to your family home? Won’tshebe there?”
“Willa’s abroad,” Kieran answered. “She left the day after the wedding.”
Seemingly resigned, Dom got into the cab, with Kieran and Finn following. Silence reigned in the vehicle for a long while. It was early evening, and the lamplight cast flickering patches of illumination into the interior of the cab, giving Kieran more of an opportunity to study his friend. Dom truly did look like he’d been to hell, and had yet to makethe return journey. Dark circles ringed his eyes. Within the span of a fortnight, he appeared to have dropped half a stone, his face haggard and gaunt, the image of a man who had loved and lost.
Watching others tumble into that morass of emotion was the closest Kieran had ever come to it. Truthfully, it wasn’t that he couldn’t feel it himself, but there was always a new person, a new sensation and adventure, and tethering himself to anyone for any extended period of time simply didn’t make sense. Better to remain unencumbered, open and ready to experience anything that came his way, and whatever and whomever he sought out.
Love also had a disastrous habit of turning rancid, as he’d seen with his parents, and now with Willa and Dom. While the initial pleasure might be great, in the aftermath love cooled and congealed like spilled blood. The stronger one loved, the greater the despair that followed its inevitable retreat.
