While the Duke Was Sleeping (The Rogue Files #1)(60)

Instead of sinking between a pair of willing thighs, however, he found himself walking the corridor at the middle of the night. His feet moved, without conscious thought. Before he quite realized where he was going, he ended up in his brother’s chamber. A groom sat in the corner, nodding to sleep.

“I’ll sit with him,” he spoke, his words jerking the servant awake. “Give us a moment.”

The groom nodded and hastily left the room, no doubt sensing some of his dangerous mood.

Struan sank down in the chair beside the bed, gazing dispassionately at his slumbering half brother.

After some time, he spoke. “I know you hate me.”

He waited a long moment as though he expected a response. “I suffered a great deal as a result of our father. You will never know how much.” He shrugged. Specifics didn’t matter. “He gave you everything and me nothing. Even so, I never blamed you. I never hated you or wanted anything that was yours.”

Until now.

He didn’t say the words. He simply let them hang in his mind, hovering like a great toxic cloud. Perhaps Poppy had the right of it and he needed to give her a wide berth. For the both of them.

“Funny thing. I actually admire you. I never thought I could feel like that about you, but choosing someone as special as Poppy. Hell, you’re a lot more than I ever gave you credit for.”

He released a shuddering breath and then jerked up from the chair. He stalked out of the room and found a groom waiting outside. One glance at his face and the groom scurried back into the room as though he feared Struan would level him with his wrath. He didn’t have anything to worry about. Right now the only person he was angry with was himself.

He strode down the corridor, deliberately not glancing at the door to her room. He passed it without looking. If he was determined to banish her from his mind, he needed to stop giving her so much power over him.

As though the thought of her conjured her, he stopped hard. She stood ahead of him wearing nothing more than her nightwear. Her bare feet peeked out from beneath the hem of her nightgown and robe.

She hadn’t noticed him yet. She knocked softly yet persistently at a bedchamber door. “Bryony? Please let me inside. I want to talk to you.”

There was no response that he could hear. Apparently she heard nothing either. Her profile scrunched up in frustration. “Please, Bry. I don’t want to fight with you.”

“Go away! Ruin someone else’s life and leave me alone.”

He flinched and then wondered at that reaction. It wasn’t as though the girl was attacking him. This had nothing to do with him. Poppy had made it clear they should have nothing to do with each other. He should turn and walk in the opposite direction as though he hadn’t seen her.

Walk away, Mackenzie. Just walk away.

Poppy’s shoulders slumped. She flattened her hand against the door and dropped her head, looking so forlorn that he couldn’t move. “Don’t be like that, Bry,” she said so softly he could barely hear her.

More silence greeted her.

She waited as though hoping her sister would change her mind and open the door to her. Nothing.

She turned, wiping at her eyes. The fact that she was moved to tears made something shift inside him. Hellfire. He didn’t like it.

She caught sight of him and froze. “What are you doing?” Accusation bit into each word.

“Returning to my room.”

Her chin went up and she wiped at her eyes as though trying to hide the evidence of her tears. “I was just checking on my sister.”

He advanced on her. “How is she doing?” An innocuous enough question.

She squared her shoulders. “Fine. Tired.”

He stopped before her. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Those tear-soaked eyes widened. “Very well. She’s upset with me.”

“Why?”

She shook her head and turned, striding away from him with quick, little steps, her bare feet a whisper on the plush runner.

He followed. “What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I assume it has to do with today in the stables. With me.”

She spun around. “Because everything is about you with your stupid handsome face and your stupid brogue and your stupid . . . body.” She gestured to him furiously. Tears clogged her voice and glistened in her eyes.

“I take it you had words with her about her boldness.”

She sniffed back a sob. “Indeed. I had words with her about her boldness.”

“And?”

“She didn’t take it kindly. She had a few choice words for me in turn.” She shrugged as though it didn’t sting. “She’s fifteen. The world revolves around her.”

“Except it doesn’t and you should make her aware of that.”

She released a short laugh. “And you have a great deal of experience dealing with young, overwrought girls?”

“I don’t,” he admitted. “But maybe you’re too soft on her.”

“She’s all I have.”

Her words struck him right in the chest with a pang. Until he remembered. “You have Marcus.”

She glanced away, avoiding his gaze. “Yes. That’s right,” she remembered. “How could I forget that?”

Why did she sound so unconvincing?