Page 88 of Wicked Rivals
“I do not wish to see Ash hurt by this marriage scheme.” He set the glass down and waited.
“As much as the man infuriates me, I do not wish to hurt him either. Especially not at the expense of my own happiness.”
“Then you’ll accept my offer?”
Rosalind weighed his offer against everything else that had happened in the last few days. The survivor in her wanted to leap at the chance to be free of Ashton’s control. But she would also no longer have him in her life.
She was a woman of honor. She had promised to abide by the terms of their wager. If she walked away and later tried to resurrect the passion that was beginning to burn between them, it wouldn’t happen. Pride and distrust would keep Ashton from opening himself up to her, and she would feel like a lowly cheat.
And if she was being entirely honest with herself, she didn’twantto walk away. Ashton was proving to be a far better man than she’d assumed him to be. He could be sweet and playful, not simply dominating and seductive. Aside from her property, he had no desire to crush her or destroy who she was.
This might be my last chance at love.
Yes, he would own her, but if she in turn owned his heart, what would the rest matter? She, after all, could tell him no, could turn him away if she didn’t wish to be with him. He’d made that clear, that he would never take anything from her that she wasn’t willing to give. It was what made him so dangerously seductive. He promised to give her everything she desired, and it turned out what she wanted most of all was him.
“Well, what’s it to be, Lady Melbourne?” Charles asked. A smug smile hovered about his lips.
She stood, walked up to him and took his glass of brandy, and with a confident smile, she tipped his glass back and finished the drink before setting it back in his startled hands. “I’m afraid I cannot accept. I’m honor bound by my promise. Unless he wishes to cry off, I’m to marry him at a date of our choosing.”
Charles’s hands curled into fists, his knuckles white as he got to his feet. “Are you certain? I could pay above your debts. Whatever else you desire. Name it and it shall be yours.”
“I’m sorry, but there is nothing you could give me.” The things she once wanted—love, a happy life, children—those had always been phantoms of the past, castles made of clouds. Yet if she stayed with Ashton, she may have one more chance to chase those dreams—and perhaps even catch them.
“You would condemn yourself to a loveless marriage?” Charles asked softly.
She nodded. “You seem so certain that love is impossible between us. I believe that we might come to love, if we are lucky.”And perhaps I have already.
Charles frowned. “I won’t let you go through with this. Ashton deserves someone better. A woman who loves him.”
“Everyone deserves love,” she agreed. “But he has made this choice, and we are bound by his decision. Goodnight, my lord.” She brushed past him and exited the room, thankful when he didn’t try to stop her.
Once outside, she clutched her stomach, trying to catch her breath. She had not realized that during the entire discussion her body had tensed, to the point where she now bordered on exhaustion.
There was something frightening about Charles. Not that she was afraid he’d harm her, but it was as though he was haunted by his past. That pain lingered in his eyes, secrets that drove a man to desperate ends. A man like that would do anything to protect the people he loved. Like a hungry wolf among sheep, he required constant watching.
I must tread carefully.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Brock Kincade stood at the edge of the cemetery, staring out at the freshly upturned dirt of his father’s grave. Moonlight washed the cemetery in pale cream and opalescent white. The carved headstones formed shadows almost as black as the night itself. But Brock was no longer afraid. The creature that had frightened him since he was a child was gone. Forever.
His horse gave an impatient huff and stamped his hooves, no doubt anxious to be back in the stables with a blanket on his back and fresh oats in his bucket.
“All right, you lazy beast,” Brock muttered and stroked a palm over the animal’s neck as he mounted up.
He departed the quiet churchyard and trotted back up the winding hill to Castle Kincade, the shallow moat filled with rainwater and the ancient wooden bridge lowered to allow passage into the keep.
It had been more than a hundred years since the castle had demanded defense, but like an old wolf, it was crouched and ready to do so at a moment’s notice. Soon it would be a happy place again, one of joy and life. The crumbling towers would be restored, and Rosalind could come home.
As Brock trotted over the bridge, Aiden rushed out to meet him.
“Thank God! We’ve been waiting for you. You must come!” Aiden waved a groom over to take the horse.
“What’s the matter?” He dismounted and followed Aiden inside the castle. His younger brother was paler than the night their father died.
“We have a visitor. Rosalind’s in trouble—”
“Trouble?” Brock growled. They’d had enough trouble as it was and didn’t need more, but he would do whatever was needed to help his sister.
