Page 26 of Wicked Rivals
“Come now, Rosalind, you’ve struck me twice now in my own home. You were expecting something. A reaction. What for?”
Her gray eyes flashed. “My maid and I were robbed by a highwayman this evening after a wheel fractured on my coach. The man was blond…and he had your eyes.”
“Myeyes? Don’t tell me that you’re seeing me as a phantom in the night.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!”
“Then you hit me because…?” He watched her closely, half amused and half concerned.
She raised her chin. “As that wretched man rode off with my purse, I fired a shot and hit his right shoulder. If it had been you, then I daresay you wouldn’t have been able to hold back your pain.”
A highwayman? There weren’t any in these parts of Hampshire, at least none he’d heard of.
“So you were robbed and thought this fool was me?”
“I considered the possibility, yes.” She closed her eyes, as though utterly humiliated.
He was infuriated at the thought of anyone aiming a pistol at Rosalind. And he was even more put out that she’d thought it was him.
Of course, after orchestrating her destitution, even if was only temporary, could he blame her? Suddenly his scheme was not the wonderful victory he’d hoped for. Greater good aside, it left him feeling hollow and petty, and there was a stirring of nervousness inside his chest.
“And then?” he prompted.
She didn’t continue right away. She kept her eyes closed, her head resting on the back of the tub.
“Our driver went to see about repairing the coach. He dropped us off at an inn.”
Ashton sensed she still wasn’t telling him everything. “But you couldn’t stay the night because you had no money?”
“We were able to obtain a place to sleep and a meal.”
He snorted. “No doubt you assured her you would make me pay for everything once you’d visited me and demanded your assets back.” It was exactly the sort of thing she would do.
Rosalind’s eyes narrowed to angry slits. “I did nothing of the sort. My maid and I earned our food and place to sleep.”
“Earned?” He couldn’t picture Rosalind earning a meal. “How the devil did you do that?”
The look she shot him could have frozen a lake. “The innkeeper let my maid help in the kitchens while I waited on the tables. The rooms were full, but they allowed us to stay in the storeroom on sacks of grain.”
She’d slept on sacks of grain in a storage room? Rather than make him laugh, the image cut him deep—sleeping on lumpy bags of grain, how it would knot her muscles and leave her sore the next morning. Enemy or not, a woman like her deserved to lie on a downy feather bed with a mountain of blankets to keep her warm.
“If you were supposed to be sleeping there, how did you end up here?”
“A boy gave me a ride halfway to your house before the storm started up again. Iwalkedthe rest of the way.” She raised one delicate foot out of the water. Red and angry blisters dotted her ankles. She sighed and lowered her foot back beneath the surface.
This should have been his moment of triumph, the fall of his greatest rival. Yet finding her half-dead on his doorstep, the fear in her eyes upon waking, and now witnessing her blistered feet…it tore at his heart. His little Scottish hellion was a brave and worthy opponent. There was no pleasure to be had in her suffering, and he wanted her back on her feet.
Ashton stood abruptly; the sudden press of self-loathing for what his actions had caused had made him too uncomfortable to face her. He needed a minute to breathe, to remember that he was in control, and he wouldn’t let his emotions get in the way.
“I’ll send a messenger to the inn tomorrow to pay for your maid’s stay and have your coach repaired and brought here as soon as it is ready. Please take your time in the bath. I’ll have food sent up. My sister, Joanna, will have spare clothes to lend you. If you require anything, you need only ask.”
She snorted. “Because youownme, correct?”
His words thrown back at him stung. His first impulse was to challenge her, declare shedidbelong to him. Then he remembered another young woman, one who’d taught him last year that a lady in distress was well within her rights to lash out. And when she did, she needed a gentleman to respond, not a possessive brute. Emily had taught him much in the last few months.
“You may not believe this, but once upon a time, I was a gentleman. You are in need of food, shelter and clothes. It is my duty to provide that, seeing as how my actions caused your situation.” He left her to bathe and went back into his room.
The sounds of her light splashing echoed through the partially closed door. He sighed and leaned one arm against the back of a chair and watched the fire make shadows across the floor.
