13
Lord Pembroke was as good as his word. By the time the waltz had ended, with Pembroke pressing himself as close to Rosalind as he could for every turn, Ashton had pushed away from his wall and was stalking toward her, eyes blazing. But before he could speak to her, Rafe slipped in between them.
“Sorry, brother, but I am next.” Rafe flashed a wolfish smile at his brother.
Ashton attempted to take Rosalind’s other hand to pull her away. “Surely you should not be dancing after your fall.”
“Nonsense,” Rafe replied. “I’ve been resting too long. Some activity will do me good.”
Rosalind bit her lip to hide a smug smile as she walked past Ashton to follow Rafe out onto the dance floor. “I’m sorry you shan’t have what you desire, Lord Lennox.”
Ashton visibly clenched his fists.
Rafe glanc
