Dukes By the Dozen

He brushed off her concern. “It didn’t exactly happen last year. At any rate, it’s old news that no one need talk about any longer.” He lifted up the gauzy white bandage the Bursbury’s had provided.

She cradled her arm to her chest, keeping it from him. “Frustrated or angry?”

He studied her. “I beg your pardon?”

“Are you frustrated with me for asking these questions?” She tilted her head in genuine curiosity. “Or are you angry?”

“It isn’t my topic of choice, but I’m not angry with you.” He ran a hand over his jaw and paused, possibly detecting a rough patch. A second pass over the area reassured him there was indeed not a section of his face missed in his last shave. “I’m not frustrated with you, either.”

She held her arm out to him to wrap. “I believe it is well within my right to declare myself the winner of snapdragon.”

He eyed her arm. Balm glistened over the tender skin. “Are you so sure?”

“Yes.” She unfurled her fist to reveal a fat, brandy-soaked raisin at the center of her palm. “And since I am the winner, I have a prize to claim.”

Oh, yes. He slowly, tenderly eased the linen over her skin and tried to ignore how his body went instantly hot at the idea of what she wanted. She had made it clear from the beginning what she would request. And while he had been reluctant at first, his own damnable teasing had stretched his control to the limit and made him nearly shake with the idea of touching her. Loving her.

“Yes, you do have a prize to claim.” He tucked the edge of her binding against her upper arm where the skin was uninjured. He leaned toward her and framed her lovely jaw with his fingertips, his mouth easing closer to hers. “Dare I ask what you’ll request?”

“I want…” Her brow furrowed slightly, and she studied him for a long moment, casting her gaze from his eyes to his lips and back again. “I want…”

She was having a hard time saying it, but he would not have a hard time giving it. He waited patiently, knowing exactly what she would say.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

CHAPTER 8

JULIA KNEW what she ought to ask for. It was what she’d been after since the beginning.

And yet, things had changed.

Her prior curiosity that had spurred her conversation with Hodges now tipped to concern. She desired William, yes. Especially after what he’d done to her body only hours before. Especially when his mouth hovered so close to her own, the spicy scent of him making her arc toward him with yearning.

But there was so much more. She needed to know not just the man, but also the boy who had made this man who he was.

It was her solitary win and she knew exactly what she would ask for.

She lifted her hand to his face, where the grain of his whiskered jaw had been meticulously scraped to softness. “I want to know about your childhood, about your parents, about the fire, and Maribel.”

He blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“Forgive me, I know you thought that I would request, you know.” A blush flared over her cheeks. “But I would like to know what happened. It’s part of discovering you, William, and to do that I need to truly understand you.”

He leaned back, putting a more breathable, less heart-catching distance between them. He cleared his throat, then rattled his history off with a swift, detached efficiency. “The country estate caught on fire when I was a boy. My parents died because of me. I would have perished too, were it not for Hodges. I was passed around from house to house because no one wants an orphan. Maribel was my father’s favorite horse. She’s very sick and will soon die.”

The casual lift of his shoulders indicated the end.

But even in that brief tale, there was so, so much.

“Because of you?” Julia repeated. “How could you have possibly caused your parents’ deaths?”

He stared down at his hands. “I was in the study, where I wasn’t supposed to be. I knew there was a fire and I froze.” He rubbed his fingers together, and then balled his hand in a fist. “I was so afraid I would get in trouble for being in the study that I remained there too long trying to decide what best to do to get out of the situation. My parents were calling me and when I finally emerged, they were on the other side of the split-level stairs. Their side collapsed. The one I was on began to sway and Hodges grabbed me. When I awoke, I’d lost my parents. My family.”

Julia’s heart contracted for the boy who spent a lifetime thinking his parents’ deaths were his fault. She reached out and took his hands in hers. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I don’t know that I’ll ever believe that.” He lowered his head. “My guilt made me a terror. I misbehaved badly and was sent from the first three homes before I realized I needed to improve my behavior. The better I was, the more invisible I became, the longer I lasted. I stayed with my father’s cousin for two years, though most of that time I was away at school.”

“That’s why you try so hard to be perfect,” Julia surmised.

He lifted his head and gave a mirthless smile.