Page 61 of How to Tempt an Earl

“You fight like a boy, Brooks.”

Their athletic dance continued, each throwing punches—some blocked, some making contact. Sweat beaded on Ian’s brow and on his bare chest. He relished the physical exertion, but instead of feeling exhilarated, Ian felt frustration.

The muscles in Ian’s arm bunched as he surged forward, hitting Brooks squarely in the gut. Brooks grunted but didn’t double over from the hit.

Ian’s mind returned to the wedding breakfast, to when Grace had stepped from her hiding place, shock and anger reflected in her lovely eyes.

He’d hurt her. He shouldn’t be surprised. He’d hurt most of those who loved him. If he’d been able to stop Matthew from racing on the treacherous track that day, his brother would be alive. His sisters would have a proper male role model, and his mother would need not worry about the succession of the earldom.

He’d never intended for Grace to learn of his intentions regarding the club in such a devastating manner. He’d lost his temper with the dowager, and Grace had overheard their heated argument hours after they’d exchanged vows before all who cared about them.

He was not marriage material. He’d lived a life of a rake and libertine for far too long to become reformed. Inheriting an unwanted earldom could not change him overnight, and he had no desire to become a better man.

For a decade, since his father’s dictates had forced Ian out of the family home, his lifestyle had served him well. The club had saved him financially and had given him purpose.

Nothing could change the fact that he’d hurt Grace. She’d held herself with pride, but he’d seen the misery in her blue eyes. The rigid set of her shoulders. The trembling of her fists at her sides. He’d wanted to soothe away her pain, be the husband she deserved.

But he wasn’t that man. Could never be.

Their marriage was not to be a real one. She didn’t want him in her bed, didn’t want to consummate the marriage.

Hell.

Distracted by his thoughts, Ian was slow to see Brooks’s fist strike. Ian raised his arm to block the blow, but he was late. Brooks took advantage of the split-second delay to land a solid uppercut to Ian’s jaw.

Pain exploded in Ian’s brain as his head snapped back. His vision darkened at the corners, and he fell to his knees. He blinked, perversely relishing the pain, knowing he deserved it, deserved much more.

“I’m done for tonight,” Brooks said, staring down at him.

“No.” Ian’s voice sounded guttural. He tried to get to his feet and ended up on one knee.

Brooks extended a hand and hauled Ian up. He dipped a metal cup into a bucket of water and handed it to his friend.

“Damn, Ian. She’s gotten to you good.”

Ian drank, then tossed the cup back into the bucket. “I can handle her.”

“If this is your way of handling the situation with your bride, you’ll end up bloodied and bruised. You lost focus.”

Ian started to shake his head, then stopped. The motion hurt like the devil. “She refuses to share my bed. She’s being unreasonable.”

Brooks choked on a laugh. “Seems to me she’s not the unreasonable one.”

“You think I should sell the club?”

Brooks hesitated, then reached for a cotton towel and wiped the sweat from his brow. “What I think doesn’t matter. It’s how she feels about it.”

“She despises gambling and blames it for all her father’s problems.”

“Then it’s up to you to explain what the Raven Club means to you, to all of us. The club saved you and took care of many others in your employ.”

He gritted his teeth. “It’s not just the club. She wants a husband who will love her.”

“So? Why can’t you be that man?”

Ian clenched his mouth tighter. “I cannot. It’s not in me.”

“Why? Is it because you didn’t know love from your father?”