Hunted(40)

Anyone but Patrick.

Patrick, the boy who’d beaten him, or nearly beaten him, at almost every competitive structure in class.

His father relayed the news to Patrick.

He’d taken it much differently than Lyle. Lyle had felt…a betrayal at his father, angry at his indiscretion to his mother and to the family. Lyle looked unsurprised, even distant. How could he be so cool about it? When Lyle wanted to scream and shout at his father for what he’d done.

The rest evening hadn’t gone well. Lyle didn’t know what his father had expected to get out of revealing the truth to them. Had he wanted forgiveness? Acceptance? Reprieve from guilt? To create even more chaos before he left this world?

Brice Hargrowe, King of Tarlè, at sixty-three years of age, received no consolation from either of his sons before he took his last shuttering breath.

Lyle pushed the unwanted memories of the past away. They had no place here in the now.

“Lionel,” Patrick said in way of greeting.

“I’d thank you for coming to see me, but neither of us are happy about it.”

“Could you tell your sentinel to cool it?” he asked, nodding at Reece who hovered against the wall at his back.

Lyle contemplated it, then relinquished Reece from duty.

Reece hesitated, before stating, “I’ll be right outside the door.”

He could use some privacy with the duke.

“Shoo, doggy, shoo,” Patrick taunted.

Reece stiffened, but remained quiet. The door shut quietly behind him.

“Do try not to antagonize my guardsmen,” Lyle advised. “Reece has been known to stab visiting guests.” Those had technically been because of assassination attempts, but he wouldn’t mind seeing Patrick skewered like a kebab.

“Pray tell, what this meeting is about? I have many things to do. As you know, the company’s been occupied since the attack at the mine. And I’m not exactly at my best health,” he said with a pointed look at his leg.

“Ah, yes. And how is business over at the mine going?” After Richard Gaines died, he’d passed on his company to Patrick. Owning the mine, and thus Tarlè’s greatest resource—silver—kept the Gaines’ fat with wealth.

“They didn’t infiltrate it, if that’s what you’re asking. Aside from some debris cleanup, we should have the miners back to work in a week.”

Sitting across from his half-brother tried Lyle’s patience. He lit a cigar and puffed on it.

“Those are terrible for your health,” Patrick commented.

“Want to warn me about the risks?”

Patrick smirked. Always the smirk. “Actually, I was going to say—smoke two.”

That did make Lyle laugh. Damn. He quelled it, not liking his brother’s sense of humor. Or maybe he did like it. No, he quickly shut down that line of thinking. He refused to admire anything about the man.

“In that case, here.” Lyle handed over two cigars. Patrick cracked a smile before suppressing it. They both had that in common. His brother joined him and soon clouds of clove-scented smoke filled the air.

Lyle exhaled in satisfaction. Nothing like the heat of smoke down his lungs to make him feel good. In a bad way.

“We need to discuss Lysse.”

That garnered Patrick’s attention. The way his hand froze poised in mid-air to smoke the cigar, was almost comical. A second passed, and he resumed putting the cigar in his mouth. Puff. Puff.

“What about her?” he asked after several moments.

“What do you know about her?”

Calculating, always thinking critically, Patrick met Lyle’s stare confidently. “I know we’ve both fucked her.” A muscle jumped over Lyle’s eye. Patrick saw it, his eyes twinkling with merriment. “I believe she was with me when you met her and stole her, was I not?” he asked innocently.

“That’s not how I remember it. As if I would waste time chasing after a skirt just because you’re into her.”

“Humph. Funny,” Patrick said without a hint of smile. “I would have thought that’s exactly why you targeted Lysse. It’s not difficult convincing a woman into your bed when you’re the king and she’s from poor stock.”

“That’s your problem right there. I never cared what stock she came from. I suppose it might be difficult getting women in your bed being only the duke, though.”

Snap, crackle!

Angry tensions whizzed through the room like bolts of electricity. His damn heart was starting to race. Talking to Patrick always did raise his blood pressure, but this was worse than usual. He wanted to punch that smug look off his face—with a hammer.

“You think I went after her to steal her from you?” Lyle’s first thought, first instinct, was to squash this stupid idea.