Three Kisses Before Christmas by Wilde, Tanya (good novels to read .txt) 📗

core to her belly even as the blood drained from her face. He did not look happy at all. Jaw clenched and lips stretched tight.

And still the unbidden thought wrenched into her mind. Had he always been this handsome?

She watched as his gaze flicked to Mr. Lance, lips set in a hard line. “Send me the sum. I do not care how much she owes, I will settle the debt. But if you ever approach her again, I will end your existence.”

“Wicke!” Rebecca hissed, unsure what to say.

Blazing eyes settled on her.

“Lady Rebecca has no debt to settle,” Mr. Lance drawled, seemingly unimpressed by Wicke’s possessive display of arrogance. “All has been seen to.”

Lord Above.

Mr. Lance made it sound as though he had settled Rebecca’s debt. She had no debt! She was entirely debt free. Wicke’s face had turned purple at the announcement, or at least a shade thereof. Quite remarkable, since Rebecca had never seen that particular hue embellish his skin nor had she ever glimpsed him this affected.

Rebecca’s eyes widened when Langley appeared at Wicke’s left flank. He was here as well? How was she going to explain her meeting with Mr. Lance?

A hand appeared before her nose. “Come.”

Rebecca placed her hand in Wicke’s. She did not see any other way out.

She gave Mr. Lance a telling look, and he nodded. They would revisit their conversation later, though she had no idea how she was going to wriggle her way out of this conundrum with Wicke. It was clear he knew Mr. Lance was connected with Knightley’s. Not good. Not good indeed.

Wicke practically yanked her from her seat.

Mr. Lance rose, face hard as stone. “I would tread carefully if I were you, sir. I take offense at men who manhandle women.”

“Manhandle?” Wicke’s voice vibrated with menace.

“It’s all right, Mr. Lance.” She shot Wicke a disapproving glance. “I shall be fine.”

Wicke said nothing and Rebecca sighed. Every muscle in his body appeared locked into place as he guided her stiffly from the Queen’s Arms. Regret carved her to the bone. If this was Wicke’s reaction to Mr. Lance, what would his reaction be if he ever discovered she owned Knightley’s?

She could not say she was terribly surprised. Wicke had so addled her wits with his confession, his kisses that Rebecca had allowed herself to momentarily forget her priorities. Indeed, Rebecca was more frazzled that she had permitted herself the excitement of exploring the passion between them in the first place.

Rebecca had come to her senses in the nick of time, it seemed.

Why then, did she feel as though she had been flung from a horse at thundering speed?

Chapter 11

Wolfstan all but dragged Rebecca from the tavern.

Langley followed in their wake, a peculiar glint in his cousin’s eyes, as though amused by the entire interlude. Which, Wolfstan concluded, he probably was. Just as he was now certain his cousin had meant to provoke him. Just as Wolfstan knew Lonsdale had decided to meddle in his life. It was too coincidental, Lonsdale asking him to call on Westbridge Park. Langley’s behavior.

Their foolery aside, they were not the ones that set his pulse racing.

“Unhand me,” Rebecca demanded once they stepped outside.

He tightened his grip. “Where is your carriage?”

She jabbed her finger across the street, and Wolfstan veered her in that direction. “Take Sergeant home,” he directed at Langley, who nodded and strode off with nothing but a chuckle.

Wolfstan ignored his cousin and ushered Rebecca into the carriage.

“Willoughby Castle,” he ordered the driver.

“Perhaps it is better that I return to Westbridge Park.”

“I cannot believe you gamble!” Wolfstan exploded in response. “Christ, Rebecca, does Lonsdale know? How much debt have you racked up? Did Lance settle it? Why did he settle it?” His eyes narrowed on her. “If he laid one hand on you I will kill him.”

“I have never gambled in my life. Mr. Lance is a friend.”

“A friend?” Wolfstan could not be more astonished by her answer. “Do you meet all your friends cloaked in taverns?”

“Not always cloaked, no.”

Wolfstan was sure he had popped a vein somewhere in his temple. He fought deuced hard to gain control over his temper, his fear for her. Silence stretched across a frozen plateau of inner battles wrestling for domination. He needed to get to the bottom of this without slamming a fist into the velvet padding of the carriage. Which meant he had to remain composed, everything he was not feeling at that moment. Jealousy burned in the pit of his gut. Rebecca had seemed too bloody familiar with Lance.

“You expect me to believe that? How does a lady form a friendship with the manager of a gaming house?”

“How are you acquainted with Mr. Lance?”

“I am not. But every man in London is aware Lance was Knightley’s right-hand man before Knightley foolishly dueled with the best shot in England. He now serves the current owner of the club. He certainly is not a man who spends his time in the presence of ladies.”

“No, I do not imagine he does.”

“Are you going to answer my question? How did you and Lance become friends? What does this friendship of yours include?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Include? What do you mean by that?”

Hell if he knew. “What the devil have you gotten yourself into, Rebecca?”

Her eyes met his. “Mr. Lance and I met when his carriage wheel broke near Westbridge Park two winters back. His sister resides in the area.”

“You have been acquainted with Lance that long and never told anyone?”

“I see no reason why I should.”

“And yet you meet with the man all cloak and dagger in a tavern?”

She shrugged. “I keep in touch with his sister if you must know. She is a reclusive character, keeps to herself. I promised to look out for her. Now can you please let the matter go?”

She still hadn’t answered his question. But Wolfstan let the matter go. And only because he had already decided to seek out Lance the moment he deposited Rebecca at Willoughby Castle. However deep