Bianca stopped. Why hadn’t she asked her father for help? “You’re busy and you’ve large problems at work. Isn’t that why we’ve never made it to London for a proper season? It seemed ridiculous to bother you for something so small.”
Her father grimaced. “I’m never too busy for something like this, my girl.”
She looked down at her hands, appreciating his words, but truly still wanting to be alone.
“Don’t worry, Papa.” Juliet started again. “Lord Craven had it all in hand.”
“Lord Craven?” Rathmore said before her father could. “You were with him?”
“What’s wrong with him?” her father asked. “And how much time have you spent with that man?”
Before Bianca could respond, Rathmore inserted, “He’s just not cut from good cloth. Not any of them. They’re rogues.”
“Don’t say that.” Bianca took a step toward him. “Lord Craven is a perfectly good man. He’s just misunderstood.”
Rathmore’s eyebrows went up, but his mouth closed.
Juliet came to stand next to her sister. “I agree. He both protected and defended Bianca when she needed it most. And dare I say, you’re more confident after your outing with him?”
Bianca shrugged. “Perhaps.” She didn’t feel confident right now, just confused and tired. The truth was, what she most wanted to do, was curl into Chris’s large frame and close her eyes.
“That’s well and good,” her father stepped up to her side. “But His Grace has issued a warning and I don’t think it should be ignored. Just how involved with this fellow are you?”
“He only helped us find Mittens yesterday, Papa, and then agreed to escort us to the match. Bianca hadn’t spent any time with him before that. Right, Bianca?”
Relief and gratitude made Bianca’s shoulders slump. Sometimes Juliet’s meddling was a godsend. “She’s absolutely right. I only really met him yesterday. And he was very kind at the match.” She drew in a deep breath as she rubbed her forehead. “May I go now?”
Her father gave a stiff nod. “Of course. Sleep well, Bianca. We’ll talk on this topic further tomorrow.”
She nodded as she turned to leave. She wondered if she’d sleep at all.
Chapter Ten
Chris lay in bed, his eye throbbing and his ribs sore. He doubted he’d get much sleep. So, he got up and sneaked out of the cottage to head to the beach for a run and, before he knew it, he’d reached the path leading up to the Moorish house. The climb was more difficult in the dark, which made his progress slower, but he made his way to the top without incident. Before him stood the large manor, lit by soft candlelight. He wasn’t certain why he’d come here other than he had a vague hope of catching sight of Bianca.
He shouldn’t. Despite what he’d said to William today, he didn’t intend to marry. Of course, he nearly forgot his decision every time he touched Bianca.
Candlelight filled several of the windows. He could see what had to be the music room where several people gathered. On the third floor, a lone room was also lit and he watched as a woman stepped onto the balcony through a double set of doors. She leaned on the rail, her chin propping on her hand.
He held his breath. Was that Bianca? It looked like her, but then again, it could be any one of her sisters. It was difficult to tell from this distance in the dark.
He approached the house, slipping through the night even as the woman returned inside leaving the door still open.
For a split second he hesitated. If it wasn’t Bianca’s room, he was about to make a grave error, but then, he pushed his thoughts aside. He did best when he just reacted, and with that, he started climbing from balcony to balcony until he found himself standing on the one with the open door. Craning his neck, he peeked in to see Bianca sitting in front of her vanity, with her head on her folded arms.
She wore a thin and gauzy night rail, which floated about her body. Her hair had been fashioned in a loose braid and he watched a few tendrils dance in the light breeze that entered the room. She stole his breath.
He pushed the curtain open, then stepped inside and heard her soft sob. He winced at the sound.
“Bianca,” he said, quietly moving all the way into the room.
She jumped up, spinning about, her feet catching with one another and then she was falling. Quickly, he crossed the room, catching her in his arms. “Steady, beautiful.”
She grasped his biceps, her fingers digging into him. “What are you doing?”
“Keeping you from falling?” he asked, pulling her upright.
Bianca didn’t resist his touch but she looked up at him frowning. “Thank you for that, but what I meant is what are you doing here in my room?”
“I… I saw you and…” He didn’t have a good answer. He searched his mind but all he could land on was the truth. “I missed you.”
She softened against him, her soft curves melting into his hard edges. “I missed you too.” Then she took a partial step back. “But I can’t have you here. Please try and understand. My reputation is at stake if we’re caught together.”
He grimaced, still holding her close. He understood. No one had ever loved him and she wasn’t going to be the first. “It likely isn’t good for me either. I know how the story ends, which means I should leave well enough alone, but I can’t seem to do it.”
“How does it end?” she asked, sliding her hands up his arms and resting them on either side of his neck. Her fingers were achingly tender, like silk moving along his skin.
He ran his fingers over her creamy cheek, his chest tightening with feelings he didn’t dare examine. He didn’t answer immediately. “Never good.”
She shook her head. “Just to be clear. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy. You dictated from the very first that you weren’t my hero and we had no future.” Her fingernails dug into the flesh of his neck. “You wrote this ending yourself.”
His eyes grew wide. “I suppose I did. But you have to understand, everything in my life before this has taught me how this will go.”
“Tell me,” she said and then slid her fingers into his hair. “Tell me about what’s happened to you that you can’t trust in your own future.”
Chris held his breath. Did he dare? If he told her, wouldn’t she just know what was ugly and unlovable about him?
She stood on tiptoe and placed a soft kiss at the base of his neck. “I can’t be your hero. But I can give this to you. A chance to share your pain. I’ll help you if you let me.”
He fisted his hands in the silky fabric of her night rail, noting how tiny her waist was, even without her corset. “I was teased as a child.”
She leaned back, her brow crinkled. “You?”
“Me.” He squeezed his eyes shut.
“But Chris. You’re strong, athletic, unapologetically courageous.”
“All things I developed to defend myself,” he answered honestly, noting the confusion clouding her eyes.
“Defend from what?”
He drew in a breath. “I…I stutter sometimes. As a child, I did so a great deal.” It had become a secret in his adult life. One he always tried to hide and never admitted to. He remained quiet, especially when nervous to ensure that his speech impediment didn’t rear its ugly head. “Other children would tease me terribly and I had to fight in order to—”
She kissed him then. Pulling his head down to meet hers, her lips crashed onto his, long and hard, it was a full-on kiss that filled him not only with passion but with an emotion he couldn’t name. Rather than pushing him away, she’d learned his secret and drawn him closer.
He crushed her to his chest, holding her so tight, he thought he might never let her go. He didn’t want to and the more he tried to remember why he’d have to leave eventually, he couldn’t recall. She’d accepted his biggest flaw and had comforted him rather than judged.
At this rate, he might never let her go. Then he squeezed his eyes shut. He had to leave. He was a fighter, a bull. And she was a delicate little fl
ower that he’d trample if he weren’t careful. He’d seen it play out before with his mother and his father.
As he’d said, he knew how this story ended.
* * *
Bianca held Chris tight, her heart squeezing. Hurt practically radiated off this strong man, and she tried to wrap herself completely around him, to cushion that pain.
He stiffened, backing up a bit. “So you see why we can’t be together.”
Her eyebrows furrowed. Not one moment before they’d been completely joined. And now he pulled away, putting distance—physical and emotional—between them again. “No. Actually. I don’t see at all.”
He gave his head a shake as he took a step back. “Bianca.” Something in the way he said her name rang with warning. Perhaps it was the way his voice dropped low. Or maybe it was the frown that graced his lips or the fact that he kept sliding away from her. “You should find a good man with a nice family and no obvious deficiencies. He’ll make you happy in ways I never could.”
“Who?” she choked out, grabbing his hand as he tried to move further away. “Who is this man you speak of?”
“I don’t know,” he said, giving his hand a bit of a tug. “Some man who isn’t broken like me.”
She shook her head, letting his fingers go. “So you want me to find someone else?” Liar. The single words screamed in her mind. No man who truly cared for a woman sent her off to find another man. Her father would have never allowed another fellow anywhere near her mother.
“Yes,” he answered, his face tightening. “That’s exactly what I am saying.”
Her own breath caught. “Why are you here?”
“I…” He stopped, his fists clenching. “As I said. I know I should stay away. I know what’s best, but I can’t seem to.”
“Get out.” She spun away from him. “Leave.”
“Just a minute. Now you’re angry and that wasn’t my intention. I just wanted you to understand that no matter how I feel, I can’t give you the future you wish for.”
“You’ve explained.” Pain radiated through her body, her chest aching with the hurt of it. “I don’t want to hear any more.”
“Bianca,” he said and touched her shoulder but she shrugged it off. “It isn’t you.”
“Horse shit,” she said, spinning back and giving him a useless shove. He barely moved.
But his mouth dropped open. “Did you just push me?”
“Yes. I’ve asked you to leave. You should go.”
“I will,” he answered. “Once you understand.” And then removed his shirt.
Her breath nearly stopped as the hard, rippling muscles of his chest appeared. Dear lord in heaven, he was built like a Greek statue. For all his dark and shaggy hair on his head, his chest only had a tiny bit of hair sprinkled about the rippling muscle. His shoulders were so broad and his waist narrow. Her mouth dried as she looked at him. “What are you doing?”
He turned his back to her and even in the candlelight, she could see the scars that crisscrossed his back. She gasped, her insides jolting to see such damage to otherwise beautiful skin. Reaching out a hand and running her fingertip along one particularly deep line. “What is this? Who did this to you?”
“My father’s cure for my stutter.”
Chapter Eleven
Chris heard her gasp as her palms spread out on his back, tracing every line left by the crop. His father’s preferred method of discipline. Not that he hadn’t also used his fists.
“There was a time, before I didn’t stutter. When I was little my speech was perfectly clear.”
“What happened?” Her hands spread down his back and he was glad he couldn’t see her face. But her hands, they soothed his soul.
“I broke my father’s ship model. One he’d built himself.” He swallowed still remembering the vicious beating his father gave him. The way he’d wet himself and how he’d stuttered out pleas for forgiveness and relief.
She stroked her hands to his front, her fingers spread wide on his abdomen as she continued to caress his skin. “And he hurt you for it?”
“Viciously.” A shiver ran down his back.
“How old were you?” Her cheek pressed to his back, her breath warm on his skin.
“Five.”
“And that’s when the stutter started?”
Chris felt something wet against his back and craned his neck, as he tried to look down at her. One of her hands left his stomach to swipe at her eyes.
He turned in her arms and wrapped his arms about her back, resting his cheek on the top of her head. “Yes. That’s when it started.”
She looked up at him. “Did he hit your mother too?”
He closed his eyes. “Yes.” He swallowed hard. “As I got older, I used to put myself in front of her to take her blows. Or bait him to divert his attention.”
“Protecting women since childhood,” she murmured, reaching up to stroke his cheek.
He shook his head. “I don’t know about that. My father, he once told me that his father had been the meanest man alive. It struck me that this was a legacy that had been passed down.”
If he weren’t careful, he could end up being the same man. The thought of hurting Bianca, it stole the air from his lungs.
She sighed. “So you won’t marry and you won’t have children.”
“That’s right,” he answered, rubbing his cheek on the top of her head. “But just so we’re clear. You shouldn’t marry William either. That man in a piece of dung.”
She laughed softly, though a hiccup interrupted the middle and he looked down to realize her face was completely tear-stained. Using his thumb, he brushed all the tears away. “Don’t cry, my beautiful Bianca. You’ll find a wonderful man who is far more whole than I could ever be.”
She pressed her lips together. “I am sad for you currently. That’s no way for a little boy to grow up.”
He looked down into her delicate features, her eyes brimming with tears, her lips puffy and damp. He wanted to kiss her again. He wished to hold her tight and never let her go. Every protective instinct in him welled in his lungs, filling him with a powerful need to touch her, hold her close. Damn, he realized that he loved her.
He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her mouth, wishing to drink this moment in and hold on to it forever. No woman had ever made him feel so full, so whole as she did. No wonder he’d been drawn to her. He was like a moth to a fire.
She stepped out of his embrace but grabbed his hand and started pulling him toward the bed. “What are you doing?” he asked, planting his feet. She jerked to a stop as she turned back to look at him.
“I’ve understood everything you’ve said. I know we can’t get married, we’re not starting a family, and we don’t have a future. It likely wasn’t fair of me to get angry at all. You were honest from the first. I only got upset because,” she stopped, her cheeks filling with color, “I didn’t realize that touching you would make me so emotional.”
“Oh sweetheart.” He’d forgotten that might happen too. He’d touched so many women and felt so little she’d caught him completely unaware. “I understand.”
She drew in a breath. “I wanted you to touch me. Don’t misunderstand. I felt more confident, more knowledgeable, but then I started to feel connected to you and I don’t know how to make myself stop.”
“Please,” he said. He’d never in his life wished harder to be someone else. He’d give anything to be the man who gave her the life she deserved.
She shook her head. “Listen. You’ve given me a gift. You helped me to see myself differently and I want to give that back to you. I can’t give myself to you. You know I have to save myself for another, but I can still hold you close. Soothe just a bit of that hurt.”
He drew in a shuddering breath as he watched her cross to the bed and peel back the covers. She sat down and then slipped her bare feet under the blankets, sliding over to the far side so to make room for him.
He stared at her, indecision making him still
as a statue. He desperately wanted to climb in next to her, hold her close, feel her pressed against him. But he also knew that each of these intimate steps they took made it harder to disengage. She was right. They were both growing attached.
He closed his eyes. At least she understood. He’d take tonight. Hold her in his arms and then tomorrow, he’d have to let her go. Difficult since he was attending a dinner here. “Just for tonight?”
She gave a tentative nod. “Tonight.”
“Tomorrow, we have to stop touching and holding one another.”
“Tomorrow,” she repeated. Then she patted the bed next to her. He crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed to take off his boots. She began tracing the scars again. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Yes.” He kicked off the second shoe and slid between the covers. He didn’t fancy sleeping with his pants on, but then again, he wouldn’t join her without them. Rolling over, he settled Bianca against his body, cradling her head in the crook of his shoulder.
“Have you ever hurt a woman?” Her voice trembled as she stroked a hand down his bare chest.
He swallowed hard. “No.”
“Have you ever wanted to?” She lifted her head to look in his eyes. “We’ve already established we don’t have a future. You’ll leave soon and then we might never see each other again. You can tell me the truth.”
That made him ache. Not because of what he was about to say was a lie but because he appreciated her kindness and caring so much. “No. I’ve never considered it.”
She nodded, settling her head back on his shoulder. “I didn’t think so.” Then she snuggled deeper into his side. “You’re quite comfortable.”
He chuckled at that as he brushed a few strands of her hair back. He wasn’t certain how long passed but eventually she fell asleep. He leaned down and brushed featherlike kisses on her temple and cheeks. He’d fight sleep for as long as he could just to lie here and gaze at her. “I love you,” he softly whispered. “Which is why I have to let you go. I hope someday you understand.”
Where to Woo a Bawdy Baron: Romancing the Rake Book 3 Page 7
