Page 33 of Wicked Rivals
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 theQuizzing Glasssay 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 theGlass. 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 attention 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.
