Page 18 of A Second Chance for Carys
They hurried away, muttering amongst themselves.
James turned to Carys, who looked more forlorn than he had ever seen her. Damn the women for making her feel this way! She was the happiest, most carefree, loving woman he knew and she’d been made to feel a monster for coming to a child’s rescue. That was bad enough, but their unwarranted attack had wiped the glow from her face, the one he’d been so proud to see only a moment ago.
Now when she remembered her first outing to the sea, she might not think of the water lapping at her toes, or the waves of pleasure crashing through her body when he had devoured her. She might think back to the vile women who’d treated her like dirt. He almost ran to them to ram their words back into their throats.
“Carys, I’m?—”
“Shall we?” she cut in, her voice but a whisper. “I would like to reach Sheridan Manor before nightfall.”
Chapter Five
“Why did you take my defense?”
It was only when they reached the cover of the trees that Carys found the courage to ask the question. She had been grateful to see him spring to her aid so promptly, but surprised nonetheless.
James stared at her, looking more than a little bit offended. “Do I really need to explain? Weren’t my reasons clear enough?”
“Yes, they were.” The women had been awful toward her, and might well have turned violent, safe in the knowledge no one could see them on the deserted beach. “But I think there’s something else.”
There had been an unusual intent in his eyes. It could have been due to what had just happened between them on the blanket, of course, but she suspected he was hiding something from her. There had been something possessive, almost feral in his attitude. It would have been hard to justify coming from anyone else. Coming from a man as controlled and quiet as he was, it was almost worrying. So what was it? Did he know the women? Did he have a score to settle with them? Say what hemight, there had been more to his reaction than mere outrage on her behalf.
Though he didn’t answer, Carys didn’t insist. She knew him well enough to guess he would talk when he was ready, since her question was a reasonable one.
“You’re right,” he sighed eventually, proving her right. “I guess I cannot stand by and watch anyone being mocked because of their origins when I have suffered from the same prejudice myself.”
This was the last thing she had expected to hear. Who had dared mock a man like him? “You? But you’re not Welsh, are you?”
“No. I think we have safely established that by now.” He gave a small smile. Indeed they had. “But you will have noticed I am darker than most.”
She had, but stupidly she had attributed it to the fact that he was English, and therefore different to the men she was used to. Now she felt rather silly because, come to think of it, the people she had met here were indistinguishable from the ones she had left behind in Wales. Except James Mortimer. She had focused so much on how unsettled she felt in his presence that she had failed to see that the effect was not simply due to his dour countenance and black clothing. He was, just as he’d said, darker than most. His eyes, his hair, his skin.
Hedidstand out. Like a foreigner.
“What are you then? You sound very English to me, just like Matthew.”
“Oh, I am English, only…my father wasn’t. My real father, I mean. Not the one I visited in the winter, who lives with my mother, as her husband. I owe my coloring to the man who sired me. Not many people would dare raise the issue now that I’m a grown man, but as a child, I suffered my share of insults because of it. It was obvious when one saw me next to my older, blondsiblings that, not only was I not of my fair father’s getting, but also from a different origin. It made for an easy target.”
He stared into the distance, as if lost in unpleasant memories of that time. Carys’ chest tightened at the idea of James being taunted and perhaps hurt as a young boy. It was hard to imagine such a forbidding, confident, strong man being chosen as a victim but perhaps his body had developed belatedly.
Besides, she knew children could be cruel. Her daughter, Eirwen, being slower than most, had suffered her share of jibes as a young girl. More often than she cared to remember, Carys had had to intervene to chase her tormentors away. Even now, most people didn’t know how to handle her, even if they didn’t mock her openly. So she could well believe the boys in James’ village would have taken pleasure in taunting him for something he had no control over. There was safety in numbers, and one didn’t have to be brave to assault a lonely boy when it was ten against one.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “That must have been hard.” Perhaps it had contributed to the forging of his stern personality. It would make sense if it had.
He nodded, his gaze still on the road ahead. “My parents were successful merchants, with ambitions of furthering their lot in life. One day, when my mother was nearing her fourth decade and their five children were no longer babes, they decided it was time to try and fulfil their dream. They went to a distant city on the continent called Venezia to trade with merchants from the Levant. Upon arrival, they met with silk traders from an even farther land called Egypt.”
Now Carys thought she knew where he might be going with it. Presumably people from that mysterious land were possessed of black eyes, black eyes, and dark skin.
Just like he was.
“One of them, whose name my mother has always refused to tell me, agreed to look after her and teach her all he knew about precious fabrics while my father went on to visit the neighboring islands in search of rare objects. Blown glass vases, mirrors and other luxury items they meant to take home. When they set left Venezia a month later, having been separated all this time, my mother was with child.”
Though she had already guessed as much, Carys knew her shock would show on her face. Fortunately, James was still staring straight ahead.
“What did your father say?”
He shook his head slightly. “Even if he’d had doubts about who the father of this child was, it wouldn’t have taken him long to see that the babe born nine months after my mother’s sojourn in Venezia bore no resemblance to his other children but instead shared his coloring with their Egyptian host. It is not hard to imagine he would have felt the betrayal keenly, but I am proud to say he did not make me suffer for my mother’s lapse.”
Lapse…Had his mother gone to her lover willingly then, rather than been forced? She didn’t dare ask. The confession was painful enough for James.
