The Wild Child Read Online Free Page B

were only there because we tricked him.”
    The two of them rolled across the grass, kicking and hitting in one of the swift, violent conflicts that sometimes flared up between them. The fight ended when a shove sent Kyle’s head against a stone step, and he went limp.
    Panicked, Dominic dropped to his knees beside his brother. Blood was flowing from a gash above Kyle’s ear. Dominic yanked out a handkerchief and pressed the folded fabric to the bloodstained dark hair. “Kyle, are you all right? ”
    His twin blinked dazedly. “I’m still ten minutes older than you, Dom.”
    Dominic sank back on his heels, relieved. Holding the pad to the gash, he said, “Older isn’t better.”
    “Ten minutes better, but because of that, I get beaten more often.” A glimmer of smile faded swiftly.
    “Maybe we should run away.”
    It was Dominic’s turn to be reasonable. “He can send us to different schools, but he can’t separate us, not really. We’re two halves of the same whole.”
    Kyle gave Dominic a fierce one-armed hug. “And best friends. Always.”
    At the age often, neither of them could imagine an end to their closeness. Dominic came awake, heart pounding. It had been years since he’d dreamed of that day when everything changed. Kyle’s sudden reappearance in his life had triggered the memories again. That summer before they started school had been the last good time before life went wrong. Not wrong, he reminded himself forcefully. That had been the beginning of his freedom to be himself, rather than a useless appendage of the Renbourne family. Despite Kyle’s wealth and great expectations, Dominic wouldn’t want to change places, not really. Living under Wrexham’s thumb was enough to make anyone bad-tempered. Bad-tempered, and damned arrogant.
    Now Dominic would have to imitate that stiffness. Wonderful. With a sigh, he got up from the bed. Dawn was showing in the east, and soon Morrison would arrive with Kyle’s carriage for the trip to Shropshire, north and west by the Welsh border. A trunk was packed with Kyle’s clothing, though not his boots. Dominic’s feet, like his face, were a fraction narrower, so he preferred his own footwear. He washed and shaved himself—did Kyle know how to shave, or did the estimable Morrison always do it for him?— then dressed. He was just finishing a hasty breakfast of bread, cheese, and ale when his brother’s valet arrived.
    Slight of build and of indeterminate age, Morrison said, “I trust you are ready for departure, my lord.”
    He had the schoolmaster’s trick of making every remark sound vaguely censorious. A good thing Kyle’s favorite horse was tethered behind the carriage, so Dominic could ride when the mood struck him. Using Kyle’s clipped inflections, he replied, “Quite ready, Morrison.”
    The valet blinked, startled, as Dominic caught up his brother’s dark cloak and led the way into the common passageway that served four floors’ worth of “rooms for gentlemen.” As he locked his door behind him, he was struck by the sense that he was locking away the Honorable Dominic Renbourne. From this moment, he was Lord Maxwell, arrogant viscount, a man utterly sure of his place in the world. The thought was surprisingly upsetting. He had a sudden crazy desire to say, “Sorry, I’ve changed my mind. Kyle will have to court his own bride.” After which he’d toss the cloak over Morrison’s disapproving face and go back into his rooms. They might be cluttered, but they were his. But if there was one thing the Renbourne sons had in common, it was that they were both men of their word. Dominic became very still, consciously making the subtle adjustments that would produce Kyle’s harder step and less expressive face. It wasn’t enough to use his brother’s voice; he must learn to think his brother’s thoughts.
    Then, when he had become Lord Maxwell, he went down the steps ready to deceive. Chapter 3
    Late May was the richest, most fertile time of