Page 62 of Why Do Earls Fall in Love?
“What happened?” she asked.
“It was a fierce battle. Tensions had been brewing and I believe they both relished the chance to vent them. They were relentless, each in his own way, but Hurley began to tire first. I think he saw both victories slipping away from him. He grabbed a fishing gaff and tried to gut my brother.”
Her gaze flew up to his face. “You intervened?”
“Of course I did. I had to.” He tugged his shirt off over his head.
She went pink and made a sound of surprise. Almost, he could feel the weight of her gaze roaming over him.
“So, it’s a habit.” She flushed a little as her voice squeaked.
“Excuse me?”
“Your habit—of rushing in. To the rescue.”
He scowled. “It’s not a habit.”
She made a noncommittal, completely dubious sound. “Go on.”
He held up his arm. “Look. This is what I am trying to say. Hurley has a sharp temper and a short fuse. This is what you get when you stand in his way.”
She gasped when she saw the thick, jagged scar on his upper arm. Stepping closer, she grasped his arm and peered closely at it. “He did this with a fishing gaff?” she asked, horrified.
“It sunk in here.” He pointed to the spot. “And then he ripped it out.”
“Good heavens. You were lucky you didn’t lose your arm.”
“I nearly lost the use of it, but I’m stubborn. I wasn’t having it. I worked ceaselessly to build the muscle back, after it healed. Even so, I still sometimes drop things, if I am tired.”
“Why?” she demanded. “Why have such a man in your house?”
“Because he did apologize, long ago. And I accepted. But it left him with a sort of debt to me—and he hates that. And so, I keep him close, as you should, with your enemies.”
“It didn’t work with Harriett,” she said wryly.
“Well, Hurley is living here, happily pocketing my household money each month and reporting on me to my father. It’s a minor sort of trouble, but it keeps him from causing worse. And I can keep an eye on him.”
Her hands were still wrapped around his arm. Moving closer, she laid her cheek against the old wound, looking up at him with concern in her blue eyes. “I’m sorry such a horrid thing happened to you.”
Her skin felt soft and silky smooth against his. The rhythm of her breathing had slowed. He could feel each breath pressing her curves against his bare chest. He waited, agonizing, for each one.
“You did the same for me. You came to my rescue. I’m so grateful.”
Were those tears in her eyes?
“I would console myself with the thought that at least you didn’t come away with a scar, except I know the sacrifice you made for me was much greater.”
He hadn’t. Not really. Not yet.
And therein lay the danger. Hunger surged inside of him. It came from the places she’d touched with her small gestures and large smiles.
“I never want to be a burden to you,” she whispered. Letting go, she started to move away.
Instinctively, he reached out to stop her. He had to forcefully remind himself not to tighten his hold on her soft flesh.
She tried to move away again. He should let her.
Her mouth opened.
