“Not that I have anything against the chit,” Langley droned on. “Quite fetching but not to my style. Luckily, she hasn’t arrived for the merriment yet. I haveanotherlady in mind.”
Wolfstan’s knuckles whitened as he gripped his mug.
“I am notagainsttaking a bride, but I must at least find my wife accommodating.”
Wolfstan tossed back his ale.
“You must have an abundance of accommodating ladies in your acquaintance,” Wolfstan bit out.
The barmaid sashayed over with more ale.
“None of whom I find the least bit as entertaining as Lady Rebecca.”
He choked back a curse. “You plan to court Rebecca?”
Langley sent him a thoughtful look. “Would you object if I did? I know you have been long-standing friends.”
Abso-bloody-lutely he would object. He would kidnap Rebecca and hold her prisoner in a castle in Wales before he let Langley have her. He would also never admit that to his cousin, who seemed hell-bent on drawing a reaction from him. “Your question would be better directed at Lonsdale.”
“Indeed. Lady Rebecca has grown into quite the beauty, and she possesses an amicable temper. She would make the perfect bride.”
Amicable, Wolfstan’s ass.
He took another swig of ale. The woman had the disposition of a viper when she was provoked. But would Langley know that? Of course, not. He did not know Rebecca at all. Not like Wolfstan did. Langley had never kissed her, touched her, brought her to feverish heights, and he never would.
Langley leaned in close. “Lady Rebecca will be arriving at Willoughby Castle any moment now.”
Wolfstan slammed the mug back on the table mid-swig. Ale spilled over the rim. “What did you say?”
Langley laughed. “Ah, certain gossip does appeal to you, heh?”
“You are out to provoke me.”
“Can’t seem to help myself. You did make a snowwoman out of her.”
“What of it?”
Langley’s eyes crinkled in a way that made Wolfstan want to punch his cousin.
The door of the tavern opened and a gust of wind blew in a cold breeze. Wolfstan nursed his ale, his gaze flicking dismissively over the long black cloak of the small figure who’d entered. “How did you find me anyhow?” he asked Langley.
“I do believe my eyes are deceiving me.”
Wolfstan frowned at Langley. He followed his gaze to the booth Langley seemed to be riveted upon. “What is it?”
“Do not look now, cousin, but Lady Rebecca just entered the Queen’s Arms.”
Wolfstan snorted. “Rebecca in a tavern? Not bloody likely.”
Langley turned to him. “It is not beyond the scope of possibility.”
Wolfstan cocked his head to study the woman. She sat with her back to them, her cloak still covering her head. The tavern was darkly lit, and it was impossible to be sure. Still, Rebecca had no business in a tavern.
“It is not her.” He stared at Langley. “You invited Rebecca to Willoughby Castle and she accepted?”
Langley nodded. “Quite unexpected. I believe she will be attending the Twelfth Night Ball as well.”
“Are the rumors circling true? Are you in the market for a wife?”
