“The remoteness from Societyisits alluring charm, darling. I find it all terribly dramatic here and good for the soul beleaguered by the demands of cosmopolitan civilization. You and your friends will love it here. I promise,” Rose said gaily, as if Sinclair and she both hadn’t been steeped in seriousness only moments before.
Pain ripped through Sinclair akin to a vicious backhand from Mar. He even physically stumbled, but both Rose and Percy were so focused on each other that neither noticed.
Rose’s demeanor had changed around this nob, reminding Sinclair of when she’d first arrived on the island. There was flippancy to each word—as if everything were simply a grand lark for her private amusement. Aye, Sinclair knew she used blitheness as a shield, but it jarred him. It reminded him too much of the earl’s cruel cavalierism. He felt like a boy again, trapped within these walls, every inch of him bleeding.
“You have changed, darling,” the Newsberry look-alike said. Sinclair agreed with the man’s observation but likely not for the same reasons. He’d thought he’d seen the real Rose. Hell, he’d even begun totrusther, a toff, not to lie and manipulate. But she was a chimera—nay, not that—a selkie sent to tempt him but always destined to return to her ilk.
“I’m not the one who went and became a stuffy oldduke.” Rose lightly flicked the man’s arm, the gesture both familiar and intimate. A new slimy, sickly emotion slipped through Sinclair’s innards, ripping away at his calm rationality.
“My change in station is merely the consequence of my uncle failing to do his duty and beget an heir before he thoroughly pickled himself in liquor. I may be the new Duke of Newsberry, but I’m still the same ole Percy.”
Newsberry.Hewasthe fucking duke, just the new generation come to wreak pain and misery like the legendary finmen in their fast watercraft—only this one had arrived by plane.
Rose laughed, the sound nearly shredding Sinclair. “An irrepressible rakehell?”
“No one uses that word anymore, but I find a title does lend a man instant polish.” Percy suddenly lifted Rose’s hand. Bowing over it, he pressed his mouth to her knuckles. Sinclair’s hand fisted, and he had to remind himself that Rose wasn’t his mother. This man’s touchwasn’tbeing forced upon her, but the past and present seemed to blend so thoroughly he couldn’t tell where the old pains ended and the new ones began.
Still in the courtier position, Percy glanced up at Rose. “Do you think your parents will approve of me now that I am a genuine peer of the realm?”
Rose chuckled again, removing her hand. “You were the heir apparent to a dukedom. My parents were always ecstatic over you. And when Mother is happy in social matters, Daddy is as pleased as punch.”
Sinclair breathed in and out, trying to separate himself from the tableau playing out before him. He needed to walk away. He needed to leave, but the duke’s next words seared Sinclair to the ground, and he felt like a charred smudge on the floor.
“Then why are we not married, Rose Petal?”
Rose lightly bopped one finger against the golden crown of the toff’s head, as if everything were a silly pantomime. “Because neither of us is the marrying type, Percy.”
Rose’s words shouldn’t have shocked Sinclair, yet they seemed to vibrate throughout his very core, reaching through all the otherdarkness churning inside him. He had purposely refused to contemplate the future of his relationship with Rose—because it was obvious there would be none between a sophisticated society woman and a provincial crofter from Orkney. But part of Sinclair—a very foolish, reckless part of him—must have had unrealized hopes, for he felt them being dashed now. He was indeed the daft mortal who had succumbed to the charms of a selkie.
“Unfortunately, my change in circumstances necessitates that I settle down—eventually, of course. There is no need for me to instantly get fitted for a ball and chain.” Percy finally straightened and no longer looked as if he was about to pledge his troth, but the pressure inside Sinclair did not release. The man was the same heartless cad that his uncle had been, and this rotter was the type of guest that Rose wished to infest Hamarray and Frest with.
“Not when there are so many pretty young ladies yet to meet?” Rose lifted an eyebrow, and that cavalier arch gutted Sinclair. Did she not understand the pain that dukes and their brethren inflicted on lasses who didn’t have fortunes and powerful families to safeguard them?
“Precisely, my dear.” Percy’s lips curved into a devilish smile. “I must thank you for arranging to have the delectable Miss Flett show me the glories of avian life here on your fair isle. I have never been so enamored of feathered creatures.”
Protective rage ripped through the very last vestige of Sinclair’s frayed control. He could tolerate his own pain but not that of someone he loved.
Sinclair forgot his manners. He forgot his audience. And most of all, he forgot his place. But he didnotforget the past.
“You introducedhimto Astrid?” Sinclair advanced a step toward Rose, betrayal scourging him. He’d trusted her. Trusted her not to be like the earl, like the others. He’d even started to listen to her claims that once again turning Hamarray into a retreat for the wealthy would help the islanders, not bring them a return of old griefs.
Rose turned in his direction, clearly startled. “Why, yes. I mentioned it earlier. Percy is very well connected in sportsmen circles and adventurer clubs. A good word from him is sure to bring a number of bird-watchers to Hamarray, and if we start the ho—”
Sinclair barely heard her explanation. Instead, he turned to Percy, who was watching him with his mouth agape. Clearly the man did not expect a mere peasant to voice any opinion.
“Astrid is under my protection.” Sinclair stepped toward the slighter man. Although Percy possessed an athletic build, it was a lithe one that hardly compared with Sinclair’s bulk.
“I didn’t know Astrid was spoken for.” Percy gave Sinclair a congenial smile. “My apologies.”
Heat flared through Sinclair as he realized whatunder protectionmeant in the upper circles of London Society.
“Astrid is my cousin,” Sinclair said. “She is like a sister to me. She is not without those ready to defend her honor.”
“Sinclair, no one is threatening Astrid’s honor.” Rose touched his arm, but he shook her off.
Guilt pelted him. He’d done this. He’d allowed the vipers to once again nest on Hamarray.
Bloody hell, he’dhelpedthem dig their dark den.
