Page 37 of Dare to be Wicked

“So tell me, why is it Eliza is acting so strangely? Sweet, patient Eliza is now brittle as a Lucifer match, and about as likely to burst into flames, and then there’s Lottie….”

Jules held his gaze and Cassius felt heat crawl up the back of his neck. He could see Jules’s desire to punish him for his crimes. It burned in the young man’s eyes and Cassius could not blame him. A part of him welcomed it, felt he deserved it, but still he moved around the studio, edging towards the door. If they were going to fight—and that appeared inevitable—he’d just as soon not destroy his studio.

“I left her in the hayloft, crying,” Jules remarked lightly, though there was no doubting just how angry he was that his sister had been hurt.

“Crying?” Cassius repeated in alarm. “B-But why? What—”

“Why don’t you tell me?”

His tone darkened, the demand curt and angry. Cassius swallowed. Did Lottie regret what she’d done? Well, of course she did. It had been mad of her, mad and reckless, and would ruin her if anyone discovered it. He ought to have stopped her. He’d known that, damn it. God, Jules was right, he was an utter bastard. Had… Had she told her brother? No. No, if he knew he’d not be standing there discussing it. There would have been no prelude to violence, no chance for Cassius to explain himself.

“Jules,” he began, startled to discover he sounded a little breathless.

Not that he was afraid of a fight. He’d got himself into a few scrapes over the past years, and before that it had been a part of life, for boys at school always scrapped with each other. He could hold his own. In truth, though they were about the same height, he was heavier than Jules, who still carried the lanky frame of early adulthood. No, it wasn’t fear, it was because Jules was right. Jules was defending those he cared about, the furious desire to protect his sisters radiating from him, and how could he fight that?

“What, Cass? Are you going to tell me you didn’t meet her last night? Didn’t take any liberties?”

“No, I… I….”

Well, he might not have made love to her, but he had taken liberties. She’d been naked, for heaven’s sake.

Jules made an incoherent sound of fury and lunged at him. Cassius dodged and ran for the door.

“Come back here, you bloody coward!” Jules yelled after him.

Well, hold on now.

“I’m here,” Cassius said, standing on the lawn before the summerhouse. “And I’m not going anywhere. You can have your fight if you want it, Jules. God knows I deserve it, but I need to tell you—”

He didn’t get to say anything else as he was tackled to the floor. Jules’s shoulder hit him square in the solar plexus and he went down with such a thud the air was knocked from his lungs. Cassius hauled in a breath and had just enough wit remaining to block the fist speeding towards his nose. He twisted, dislodging Jules, but only temporarily. A fist caught him on the jaw, snapping his head sideways.

“Jules,” he shouted, trying to make himself heard, but he was short on air still and Jules was in no mood to let him catch his breath. “Jules, wait….”

In a move Cassius was not prepared for, Jules wrestled him back to the ground. Cassius broke free and struggled away, but Jules got a hold of his arm. He wrenched it up behind his back, which dashed well hurt. Aggrieved, Cassius flung his head back, not hard enough to break the fool’s nose, but enough to give them both a headache.

Jules yelled in pain and Cassius took advantage of his distraction, thrusting his free elbow into the fellow’s stomach. There was a curse, and the grip on his arm faltered. Cassius pulled free and scrambled to his feet, putting distance between them.

“Jules, wait,” he rasped, bracing his hands on his knees. “I know you’re angry, and that’s understandable….”

“How good of you to be so bloody accommodating,” Jules growled, moving in for another go.

His nose was bleeding and his clothes were awry. Cassius had fared little better; he was dirty and covered in grass stains, and the arm of his shirt had ripped at the shoulder.

“I love her!” Cassius exclaimed.

“Which one?” Jules demanded with a snort. It was a fair question.

“Both of them,” Cassius replied, before quickly realising this had been the wrong answer. He spoke quickly, trying to get the words out before Jules got serious and bloody murdered him. “But I’m in love with Lottie. I want to marry her.”

That pulled him up short, and Cassius let out a ragged breath.

“I love her,” he said again, just in case Jules hadn’t understood the first time. “I thought it was Eliza, and I do love her too, but… only as a friend, Jules. My dearest friend in the world, but… but with Lottie….”

Jules held out a hand, his expression one of disgust. “Spare me the details, old man, but if that’s true, if your intentions are honourable, why was Lottie crying?”

Cassius shrugged. He was not about to tell Jules about last night, but that would not be the only reason for Lottie’s misery. “I can’t say, but… but I think this whole situation is hurting all of us deeply. Neither of us can bear to cause Eliza any further harm, but that means we can tell no one how we feel and… and that means we are lying to everyone. Lottie is wretched about keeping secrets from you all. We both are.”

Jules stared at Cassius for a long moment, obviously weighing up how badly he still wished to break his nose. He let out a breath and raked his hands through his dark hair, which was all in disorder after their tussle.