Page 41 of A Rogue's Rules for Seduction
Dom glowered at the vessel as it neared. But then—
“It’s turning away,” Lakshmi said. “I suppose it’s a fishing boat.”
“I imagine so.” To her own ears, Willa’s voice was faint, and she hoped it wasn’t relief that made her words soft.
Yet Dom’s glower had vanished and he appeared... satisfied.
Neither of them seemed to want off the island, but she didn’t care to examine what that meant. Only a few days ago, she’d been so certain what she had required. Yet minute by minute, with each moment around him, she realized she didn’t knowwhatshe truly desired.
Chapter 13
Once the guests had returned from the beach, Kieran and Finn proposed an activity just for themselves and Dom.
Now he found himself with the brothers on one of the estate’s sprawling lawns. After loading and cocking his pistol, Dom took careful aim, training his sight on his target. He was more familiar with the feel of a cargo hook or blade in his hand—firearms were too dear for a dockworker to own—but he’d been given instruction to know the best way to hold a fine gun, such as the prime ones provided by his host. The smooth wood of the grip fit nicely in his large hand, and he held it comfortably, neither too tightly so that the recoil would snap his arm, nor too loosely that he might lose his hold when the gunpowder went off.
“Are you going to fire or are we all contemplating the best ways to wipe our arses?” Kieran called from his place on the sideline.
“This coming from the bloke who was sixteen before he learned how to clean his own arse,” Dom answered levelly without looking away from his target.
“How dare you impugn my brother,” Finn said dryly. “He wasfourteenwhen he learned how to clean his arse.”
“Fuck off, Finn,” Kieran answered affably.
“Both of you,” Dom growled. “Shut it. Or I’ll get so distracted I’ll forget where I’m supposed to aim and shoot off someone’s bollocks. That is,ifeither of you overbred aristoshavebollocks, and not silk bags filled with custard hanging between your legs.”
The threat of having their testicles “accidentally” shot was enough to silence the Ransome brothers, leaving Dom free to fire.
He drew in a breath and held it as he squeezed the trigger. There was a flash and a puff of smoke as the flintlock fired. The apple perched atop a low stone wall burst apart in an explosion of pulp.
“Go frig yourself with a chain mail glove,” a genial Kieran said as he reluctantly applauded Dom’s shot.
“Go write a sonnet about your waistcoat collection.” Dom handed Finn the pistol.
As Finn loaded the flintlock, Kieran threw a rude hand gesture at Dom. In response, Dom made an even ruder noise with his mouth. Kieran grinned at him, and Dom felt the beginnings of a smile tug at the corners of his lips.
It was almost like old times. When the three of them tore through London, caring for no one and nothing, determined to wreak as much havoc as possible in both sanctioned and unsanctioned places throughout the city. Back then, Dom had learned that he didn’t give a rat’s arse about anyone’s opinion of him. He’d dwelt in a paradise of selfishness, and the Ransome brothers were exactly the two men to help feed that egotism, since they were also fueled entirely by thoughtlessness.
“All my sonnets are love poems now,” Kieran answered with a smirk.
“Odes to your life as a slut?” Dom asked dryly.
“All dedicated to Celeste” was Kieran’s answer. “Those indiscriminately lascivious years are behind me, and I thank God that I’ll never need to return to them. She’s all I want now.”
Much as he was glad his friend and sister had found their domestic bliss, heaviness settled in Dom’s chest. There’d never been a shortage of women in his bed. They were fascinated by his origins, his size, so lovers had been plentiful. He’d had rules for how to seduce all those highborn ladies, perfected over years of cleaving a path through ballrooms and bedchambers. Never go after a woman who wasn’t interested. Always be clear that he wasn’t in the market for anything serious. Give his lover pleasure, and then go about his business, on to the next.
All that had come to an end when he’d met Willa.He’d stopped taking paramours long before they began courting. It hadn’t been on purpose. But every other pleasure and pursuit hardly seemed worth it whenshewas in the world.
When she’d accepted his proposal, he had hardly believed he heard her correctly. Surely this brilliant blaze of a fine lady wouldn’t want a baseborn churl such as him. Yet she had, and he’d never known such triumph as he’d pressed his lips to hers.
But then had come that day, that godawful day when his past crimes had risen up again. No matter how fine his clothes or how much French brandy he swilled after a sumptuous dinner, he was still a gutter-dweller with blood on his hands. It shamed him. And he hadn’t been able to let her see his shame.
He’d pulled away from her without any explanation. Then fled like a coward.
The smile that had just started to curve his mouth withered and died, and he turned away from the Ransome brothers.
A strained silence fell between himself and the brothers. By this point, Kieran and Finn seemed used to his changeable moods, and they murmured quietly to each other as he gazed off toward one of the craggy mountains jutting up from the island. Maybe someone had first come to this place in search of solitude, away from the struggles of the world, but then one of Longbridge’s more social ancestors had decided to build a sprawling manorhouse that hosted scores of guests, including Dom. And Willa.
“Shoot again, Dom,” Kieran said cajolingly. “We’ve a bucket full of apples and I’m certain they’re all perfectly happy to be turned into applesauce.”
