Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
“This isn’t about me, Falcon. It’s about Rosamunde. She asked me to help her and if you’d seen her face when she did, you would understand how difficult it was for the question to even pass her lips. I can’t let her down.”
“You’re halfway in love with her already.”
Instead of answering, Bryn pushed up from the chair and got another drink for himself and carried the decanter over to top off Falcon’s. His friend was silent as he returned to his seat.
They drank without conversation until he couldn’t keep it in any longer.
“Who do you think would be good for her? Other than Remington or Weaver?”
“Hell no.” Falcon raised his hands. “I’m not fucking saying anything about this because you’re going to take it out on me the next time we fight. You are on your own there. I will, however, say this. There are discreet places that men go to for pleasure. There are also women who go to places like that for the same thing. Why not there? No personal connection to you and you won’t have to spend the rest of your life imagining her with one of your friends.”
“Disgusting how you sit here and speak about my friend like this,” Keely said, surprising them both.
“Damn it, Keely! Why didn’t you tell us you were here?” Bryn whipped around to glare at his sister.
She walked into view from where she’d been, apparently hiding, in the corner. “I don’t answer to you, brother. I was in here first. You should be more aware of your surroundings.” Clucking, she rounded on Falcon. “You didn’t jump on taking my brother up on his offer and I respect that. I hope you get the one you want.”
He held her gaze. “I will. Make no mistake, Keely. She’s already mine, she simply isn’t aware of that.” A pause. “Yet.”
She rolled her eyes. “Typical men. I know you may not want to hear this, especially from me, but have you thought of taking her to a courtesan?”
“She doesn’t need a woman, Keely. She wants a man to show her pleasure.”
His sister walked to the door only to pause and turn back. “Right, but if she doesn’t know what is pleasurable for herself, how will she know if a man is doing it right for her? Rosamunde is lacking confidence. The one thing they have in abundance is confidence. Help her learn to be proud of her curves, be proud of who she is as a woman.” Keely faced the door again. “Just a thought.”
Neither man spoke as Bryn’s sister exited the room and tugged the door closed behind her.
They shared a glance but continued to remain silent. Bryn hated to think it but his sister may have had a point. Sliding his gaze back to Falcon, he waited as his friend worked through what they’d heard.
“You don’t think she’s going there, do you?” Rage and something else lined the low timbre of Falcon’s question.
“It’s my sister, who knows.”
“Come on, we need to go out. White’s for us.”
Falcon rose, even though Bryn could see the reluctance in him. Hell, he felt it himself but sitting here wasn’t good for either of them.
“I’m in the mood to hurt someone.” Bryn rocked back on his heels before heading to the door.
White’s wasn’t the place for them after all. Not today.
* * * *
It neared midnight when Bryn dragged his aching body back into the townhouse. Moving quietly so as not to wake the household, he went to the kitchen and got some water to clean his injuries.
He’d just put the cloth to the first cut on his face when his father filled the doorway. He studied him before striding over and taking the cloth from his son’s hand only to settle it against the cut himself.
“You and Falcon?”
“Us against the world, Papa. Like always.”
He grunted and wiped away at the blood. “Anything I need to be worried about?”
“No. Nothing will come of this.”
A small chuckle burst from his father. “Your Mama will know, trust me, son. Something will come of it.”
“She can’t protect me forever, she has to realize that at some point.”
His father moved the cloth, rinsed it off and resumed cleaning Bryn’s face. “I wouldn’t suggest telling her that or you will have other injuries that need tending.”
“I know.” And it was true, his mother protected him with the same passion and fierceness she did when he’d been a boy.
“This have anything to do with your lovely Miss Fletcher?”
Bryn had a brief moment where he thought to deny what his father said but decided against it. “Everything.”
“Usually does have to do with a woman who ties us up in knots.” The marquess pulled up a chair and sat before cleaning off the other side of Bryn’s face.
Bryn did his best to stay still but the removal of the dried blood hurt more in some places than in others.