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11
Bram was a fool.
Desire had a way of making idiots out of the most intelligent of men. He’d tried to keep it from happening, yet here he was, allowing himself to be beaten senseless as a way of banishing Rosalind from his thoughts. It hadn’t worked over the last week since Rosalind’s visit. Still, he kept trying.
The punch from his opponent, an enormous man built like an ox, hit him square in the jaw, making Bram’s head snap around.
Christ, that hurt.
“You might wish to pay attention, my lord.” Hagerty, the owner of this fine establishment, stood at the edge of the ropes, watching Bram take his beating with great interest.
Bram wiped the blood from his lip and put his fists back up. This was his fourth time in the ring today, the second with the Irish butcher named O’Leary, who was now circling him with a nasty grin on his thin lips. O’Leary had taken it easy on Bram during their first go-around. Not so, this time.
When Rosalind had arrived at his house, with no corset and lacking her underthings—
So brazen. I adore that about her.
—Bram had thought things would soon be settled between them. Whatever objections she’d been harboring against Bram and marriage had been set aside. Because coming to his house, alone, with no underthings, meant she wished to be seduced. Ruining her would result in a marriage. Sheknewthat.
A left jab from O’Leary caught Bram along his left side, and he staggered back.
Instead, Rosalind had thought him an unprincipled bastard. She’d expected them to be lovers, and only that, while he continued to toss obscure French dessert recipes at her. The only thing worse was Bram’s own stupidity in thinking Rosalind wanted something else.
Him.
“Milord, perhaps you should call it a day.”
“I’m fine,” Bram snarled, staggering just slightly.
Actually, he wasn’t fine. There was a terrible pain in his chest. But it wasn’t due to O’Leary and his meaty fists. No, the insistent ache which never seemed to fade was because of Rosalind and the fact she wanted a tart recipe more than Bram. He’d thought—
Another brutal blow caught him in the ribs, pushing all the air out of his lungs. Bram fell back against the ropes and Hagerty started toward him, but he waved the man away.
Obtuse.A perfect description of Rosalind. Couldn’t she see howincredibly suitablethey were for each other? Not only sexually but in every other way that mattered?
He danced away from O’Leary, who was strong but lacked agility.
No underthings. No corset.Friends who understood each other.
Bram threw a right hook at O’Leary, who stumbled back and snarled.
Rosalind was fully prepared to take him as a lover, but nothing more. He’d as much as told her that a husband could support her ambitions. Encourage them. Who the hell had she thought he was speaking of if not himself? He’d be a much better partner than Pennyfoil, in and out of the bakery. How could Rosalind not see that?
Well, even if she didn’t, Bram wasn’t about to allow her to go about kneading bread and baking pastries with fucking Pennyfoil.
O’Leary hit him again, sending Bram to his knees.
“Hold,” Hagerty yelled from the edge of the ring.
“Just need to catch my breath,” Bram mumbled through a mouthful of blood.
He’d lost his temper, a rare occurrence. He’d said terrible things to Rosalind to get her to leave. After she was gone, Bram had sat on the floor with a spoon and eaten the bowl of whipped cream with Bijou at his side. Thepain au chocolathad burned. He’d nearly sent a note to Lady Richardson that he’d changed his mind about her inconvenient daughter.
“I probably should have,” he said, standing.
Bram’s ribs ached. His physician, Dr. Graw, would prescribe bed rest if he suspected more than a bruise. It hadn’t been required after his bout a few weeks ago when his entire side had been one long welt of purple, but today might prove worse. He’d brought Rosalind the custard recipe shortly after that first injury. Her slender fingers had slid up his ribs—a bloody marvelous feeling but one which would be much more appreciated if they were both naked—and inadvertently touched a painful spot. He’d winced and pulled away from her without thinking. It had been amusing, at the time, the idea that Rosalind didn’t think he desired her. Especially because Bram had spent most of his visit that day making sure the length of his coat had hidden his mounting erection.
Perhaps it was time to end this. No other gentleman would have been so patient with Rosalind. She was bound to be angry no matter what he did.
