Leslie Lafoy by The Rogues Bride

Author:The Rogues Bride [Bride, The Rogues]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Tristan reversed the path he’d taken through the house earlier and emerged onto the back steps to find his horse right where he’d left him, the sky lightening, and Cyril Haywood pacing a path at the base of the steps. Not wearing a sling for his arm, Tristan noted as he made his way down and took the reins from the newel post. As I should have noticed the first time I saw him tonight.

“Haywood,” he said in acknowledgment as the other stopped and squared up to him. “Why am I not surprised to find you waiting for me?”

“His Grace can be entirely too calm and rational at times.”

An affliction Haywood apparently didn’t suffer, Tristan silently observed.

“I don’t like you, Lockwood.”

Well, at least he was an honest and plainspoken man. “With all due respect, Mr. Haywood, you don’t know me. I’d suggest that what you don’t like is my interest in Simone.”

“She’s very young.”

“In some respects,” Tristan allowed. “In others, she’s wiser than either one of us will ever be.”

Haywood considered him through narrowed eyes for a long moment and then finally said with a great deal of crispness, “She is not a whore.”

And Haywood thought he considered her one? Anger flared and seared through his veins, white and hot. “And I’ll beat bloody,” Tristan warned through clenched teeth, “any man who suggests that she is.”

“Hurt her and you’ll be the one beaten bloody.”

Said the man with one good arm? Telling himself that while going to blows over the matter might be satisfying, it wouldn’t be anywhere near a fair contest, Tristan flicked the reins over the head of his mount, saying only, “Duly noted, Mr. Haywood.”

The man stepped back and watched him swing up into the saddle. Even as Tristan was thinking that they weren’t yet done, Haywood reached out and caught the bridle.

“Simone is like a daughter to me,” he said in a tone that, while firm, eddied with angry desperation. “I care for her more than my own life. Can you say the same?”

The sense of melancholy welled up, fearsome in its sudden onslaught, wrenching in its depth. Tristan dragged in a breath and clenched his teeth until the initial swell passed. “As to placing myself between her and all danger,” he answered tightly, “yes, I can.”

Again Haywood considered him through slitted eyes. The horse shifted impatiently and Haywood released the bridle. Without another word, he turned on his heel, walked up the steps, and let himself into the house.

Tristan expelled a long breath, trying to bring the swirl of his emotions under control. His effort succeeded only in creating a hard knot low in the center of his chest. He absently rubbed the spot, shaking his head and remembering how wonderful the night had been until he and Simone had left the warehouse. If only they had stayed there, had said to hell with trying to maintain the illusions. If only there were no Lucinda, no reason to be the noblest of cads.

He blinked and frowned.

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