Page 17 of Master of Games
She didn’t resist. “It’s just…” she drew in a deep breath. “I miss her, most of all.”
“I’m sure you do.” He ached for her. For what she’d been through.
“I won’t regret the scars, they forced me from the path of being another vapid debutante.”
Vapid. It was a good word for it, and one that likely could have been used to describe himself. “How did you get them, sweetheart, tell me.”
The tears started streaking down her cheeks. “I saw the fire…”
He squeezed her hand, trying not to make a sound. But words tumbled out anyway, “You rushed in to save her.”
Tabbie gave the smallest nod. “I’m lucky to be alive. The structure was engulfed by the flames so quickly.”
Everything he thought he knew about Tabbie was confirmed. She was a person who’d give everything for someone she loved.
“Show me.”
“What?” she asked, turning toward him, looking pale.
“Show me the tea house. I want to see it.”
For a moment indecision marked her features and then, with a quick jerk of her chin, she rose from her chair, still holding his hand.
CHAPTER SIX
Tabbie trembled, gripping Ironheart’s hand.
He was last person she’d expected to be exercising her demons. But here he was, lacing his fingers through hers, his arm brushing her shoulder as he murmured soft words of encouragement.
For a moment she wondered who this man was…surely not the same rake who only wished for one thing from a woman.
She shook her head. She’d be a fool to trust him. He would say whatever was necessary to get what he wanted from her.
But what he claimed to want was her hand in marriage…
Which was ridiculous. He could have the most perfectly beautiful woman in all of England. He could not seriously want her.
But she shook those thoughts aside as they crossed the sweeping lawns to the tea house.
The workers were hard at work rebuilding the structure.
It had been too painful to repair at first and so for the past few summers, Tabbie and her father had stared at the burned-out shell.
Her father inevitably found an excuse to return to London. Tabbie couldn’t blame him. But for herself, she had to live in the remains, dwell in the past and how her life had irrevocably changed.
“What happened?” Caden asked next to her, pulling her even closer to his side.
She stopped, watching as the workers laid the tiles of slate on the roof. “Kitchen fire. My mother was lounging in the front of the tea house, watching a storm move in across the water. Of note, it was that storm that put out the flames a few hours later.” Pain closed her throat, tightened her chest. She’d never said these words out loud, though they’d echoed in her head a million times.
“Tabbie,” he whispered, using his good arm to pull her against his chest.
She wrapped her arms around his waist, drawing strength from his body. “I saw the flames from the library,” she whispered. “I knew she’d gone to the tea house for her afternoon tea.”
His arm tightened. “You weren’t there? When the fire happened?”
She shook her head. “The staff was busy attempting to put out the flames, they didn’t warn her until it was too late.”
She felt the shudder of his body against hers, but she was too lost in the memories now, the words crowding her mouth.
