She was afraid he’d tense up, push her away. But he didn’t. It was as if he’d finally given up fighting her, fighting his own feelings for her. The feelings she’d somehow known he had, buried deep inside.
“My stepmother,” he said after a moment. “She was mad. That’s why Genevieve was brought up here. Her family didn’t want to leave her with her mother. I was no kin of theirs, so I was fair game. ” His voice was calm, emotionless.
“And your father?”
“Already dead. We were in Jamaica, but I don’t think I would have fared much better here. ” He turned his head to look at her. “Don’t cry, love. It was over long ago. ” He reached up and brushed the tears away with his thumb.
“What happened to her? Your stepmother? What finally stopped her?”
“I expect she would have killed me before she stopped, but fortunately she drowned herself one night. With no help from me, I might add. I was only twelve at the time. I would have killed her if I could, but at that point I was small for my age. No one ever fed me. ”
“Oh, Lucien,” she cried.
He moved to cover her, so quickly she didn’t realize what he was doing. “No more tears, vixen. You unman me. ”
“Well, that’s the last thing I’d want to do. ”
He laughed, then pulled himself out of bed, reaching for his clothes, and she saw for the first time that the scarring went
over his buttocks as well, down to his thigh.
“It’s not a pretty sight,” he said without turning around, knowing she was looking.
“Actually it’s a very pretty sight,” she said, doing an excellent job of keeping the tears from her voice.
“Saucy wench. Do you realize the door’s been open all this time? I don’t know if it will close again. You’ll have to move into the pink room with me. ”
She giggled, unable to help herself, and at that he turned and smiled at her. She had the oddest feeling it was as if he was saying goodbye, but she knew that was impossible. He loved her; he was no longer fighting it. There was nothing to be afraid of.
She wriggled back down in the covers. “Where are you going?”
“I have things to do. Much as I’d love to spend the entire day despoiling you I think you need to rest. I promise to wake you by dinner time. ”
“And how are you going to awaken me?”
“As wickedly as possible. ”
She smiled sleepily. There was nothing to worry about. She was simply unused to being happy. “Come back sooner,” she said in a sleepy voice. And before he could even leave the room she fell back into a sound, sated sleep.
Lucien left his pink rooms, having bathed and changed, a rueful smile on his face. She really did have an unholy nerve. He wondered if that was the god-awful moment when he’d fallen in love with her? Or had it been earlier than that, when she’d wept in his arms and then turned around and burbled cheerfully at him. Or had it been, as he suspected, the moment she kneed Gregory Panelle in his privates?
She was fearless, and he’d been a fool to try to resist her.
“You’ve got a visitor, my lord. ” One of the new footmen was waiting for him by his door, and Lucien froze. They were too remote for casual visitors, and he knew exactly who it was. He thought he’d have more time, time to admit to Miranda the wretched truth about Christopher St. John. He’d told her he was a villain. What more could she expect of him? But the thought of St. John’s vapid face in the crowd at Bromfield made him a little ill.
Author: Anne Stuart
“Where is he?” He couldn’t remember the servant’s name, but it hardly mattered.
“He’s in the green drawing room, my lord. He said to tell you his name is—”
“I know what his name is. Tell him I’ll be with him in a few moments. ” And he went back inside his room to find his pistol.
Christopher St. John had changed very little in the last years. He was still a handsome man, if one didn’t notice the weak chin, now slightly softer than before with the hint of a second one beneath it. His clothes were the sort that looked expensive at a casual glance but were made of poorer quality fabrics and inferior tailoring. He’d fallen on hard times, which pleased Lucien.
What didn’t please him was the fact St. John no longer seemed terrified of him. Perhaps he needed Leopold’s stern presence to keep him in line. He gave St. John his calm, icy smile. “Don’t rise,” he murmured as he came in the room, leaning more heavily on his cane than he needed to. “What a delight to see you, old friend. Though I’m afraid I was under the misapprehension that you were to stay out of England. In fact, I thought I paid you a very great deal of money never to return. But perhaps I’m mistaken. ”
“Money runs out, Rochdale,” he said with a faint sneer. “I find I’m in need of more. Which I’m certain you’ll be more than happy to provide, given that you’ve taken that piece of crumpet for your own. ”