Page 68 of Wicked Rivals
Charles made a grand show of settling in to watch the scene across from him, sipping his tea.
“Of course I lied. You shot me!” Rafe growled.
“Yourobbedme, you blackguard. Did you think I wouldn’t figure out it was you that night on the road? I demand you return my money to me at once!”
“I most certainly will not! Consider it a country toll, you damned hellion!”
“Don’t call me that!” she shot back.
“Ash calls you that,” Charles noted. Both Rosalind and Rafe shot venomous glares his way.
“Well, he’s to be my husband, and I let him because he means it sweetly. Unlike you, you thieving cur!”
Rafe attempted to rise from his chair, but Rosalind struck his wounded arm again. Rafe cried out as his chair toppled over and he flew backwards onto the floor.
Charles clapped, even when Rosalind turned an icy glare at him. “I’m a pugilist. I cannot help but admire a good punch. Please, continue.”
Rafe got to his feet, cradling his bad arm and throwing daggers at her with his eyes. “I hope you drive Ashton mad. He deserves a harpy like you.” And he stalked off, leaving her and Charles alone.
“Don’t let him bother you. Rafe has always been a bit of an arse. He and Ashton are very different and rarely see eye to eye.”
Rosalind calmed and brushed a few wisps of hair back from her face.
“Did you not hear what I said before? That manrobbedme. He was the reason I had to walk here in the rain and mud.”
Charles frowned, though he still seemed somewhat amused. “Yes, Ash had warned me that might be the case. I’ll be curious to see how he deals with the man when he returns. I suspect he saw the event as some sort of lark. You’re lucky he had no intention of hurting you.”
“He’s lucky the storm blinded me, or my shot would have struck his chest, not his arm.
“Rather bloodthirsty of you. Not surprising for a lady of Scotland. Your lot are still warriors at heart. Your brothers especially.”
“My brothers? You know them?” Rosalind stilled, a little afraid. The thought of her past colliding with her present at such a point in her life sent chills through her.
Charles licked a dab of honey from his fingers before setting a piece of toast down on his plate.
“Oh yes. Godric and I had a tussle with them a year or so ago. Never saw a trio like them before in my life. Heads like boulders and fists like anvils. It didn’t matter how many times I got a punch in, didn’t seem to do anything to them.”
Rosalind’s heart leapt into her throat. “You fought them? Whatever for?”
Charles blushed. “Godric and I may have been enticing a few of the sweet little bar wenches at a tavern in Edinburgh. I believe the chits had initially promised to go home with your brothers. That was before they met us, of course. They decided we might be more fun instead. Your brothers took offense.” He grinned. “It was one of the few fights I’ve ever run from. Scary blokes, your brothers.”
“Scary indeed,” she muttered, but they weren’t the true terrors of the family. Charles had no idea what sort of monster her father was. Her brothers were good men, and for as long as she’d known them they’d never done any harm to those undeserving. But they did enjoy the fairer sex, and like her, they did have tempers. She was not too surprised to learn they’d fought Ashton’s friends over women.
“I must admit, I can’t believe you thought Ash would be a poor chess player. Whatever gave you that idea, other than foolishly trusting Rafe? It’s a game of logic. It seems natural he would excel at it.” Charles leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers, watching her.
Meeting his stare, Rosalind shrugged. “When someone is desperate, they are likely to believe in things they otherwise would not. I overestimated Rafe’s dislike of his own brother, and I underestimated his dislike ofme.”
“Well, you didshootthe man. It would make any decent fellow a bit vengeful.” Charles finished off his slice of toast.
“How many times must I say this? Herobbedme!” She slammed her teacup down on the table, making it rattle.
“Hmm, yes, so you’ve said.” Charles hummed thoughtfully. “And now you must marry Ashton.”
“Yes.” Rosalind finally ate a bit of lunch and helped herself to some marmalade.
Joanna burst into the room, a vision of loveliness in a light-blue muslin gown, her face beaming. “Rosalind! What do you think?” She performed a little twirl, and halted when she saw Charles, her cheeks turning a cherry red.
“It’s perfect,” said Rosalind.
