Page 76 of Brave New Earl (The Way to a Lord's Heart 1)

“Obligatory?” Had there ever been such a marvelous woman?

“And only the first time, I believe.”

“Practice makes perfect. I’ll be only too happy to demonstrate the truth of that adage. You’ll see when we’re married.”

She moved away from him. “We’re not talking of marriage.”

“I am. I have, several times.”

“And I said no.”

He rose on one elbow to look down at her. “And then you came to my bed.”

“The two things have nothing to do with each other.”

“Nothing!” Benjamin sat up in one lithe movement, startling her into a gasp. He found the tinderbox and lit his bedside candle. He had to see her expression.

But he found no clue on her face. She looked the same as ever as she gazed up at him from the pillows. Her hair had escaped its bonds and curled wildly over the white linen. She was delectable, and incomprehensible. “Really, Jean, what more do you want? Why won’t you marry me?” he asked plaintively.

“I don’t have to!”

“That’s not the issue. We are discussing wanting to. Why don’t youwant to?”

She was silent briefly. Then she said, “There’s no going back from marriage. You give your word of honor. You’re trapped for life.”

“Or bonded, mated, even loved.” He dared the word.

She moved farther away from him. He hated it. “Tell me why you’re this way,” he said.

“Whatway?”

“Stubborn and adorable and prickly and so very…stimulating. Tell me.”

She pulled the coverlet higher on her chest. Benjamin leaned back against the headboard like the most patient of men and waited.

She’d vowed never to tell anyone, Jean thought. The very idea was dreadful. The past couldn’t be mended. What could anyone offer her but pity and contempt? Which she rejected with every fiber of her being!

He was looking at her. She could feel his gaze even though she didn’t meet it. She’d been closer to this man tonight than she’d ever come to anyone. She hadn’t imagined such tenderness. Her spirit trembled at the memory. If there was to be any future with him…which there probably wasn’t, a quick inner voice declared. The idea was very unlikely. But if there was to be any chance, she had to admit that the past sometimes hovered over her like a vengeful ghost. Perhaps there was a softer way to tell it.

But even as she searched for gentler words, the truth tumbled from her mouth. “I ruined my mother’s life,” she said. “She could have been happy, if not for me.”

“Happy how?”

He didn’t argue that she was mistaken, which somehow made it easier to speak. “Free,” Jean replied. “Able to go about in society and enjoy herself. Married, eventually, to someone who adored her. Unlike my father, who never cared a whit for either of us.” The last came out bitter; she couldn’t help it.

“An ideal existence, in short.”

Was that sarcasm? Beset by turbulent memories, Jean wasn’t sure. She pushed on. “So of course she got angry. Having lost all that.”

“At you?” There was no doubt this time; he sounded judgmental.

Heart sinking, Jean considered stopping. But the story was rising in her now, jostling to get out. “She didn’t wish to beat me. She always said that. Over and over. She hated violence in all its forms. So she locked me away until she felt better.”

“Away? Where?”

“There was a cupboard.” A childish tone had crept into her voice on that hateful word, Jean realized. “A small, dark place, waiting for me as long as I can remember. And even before that, I think.”

“When you were an infant?” He sounded outraged. Jean cringed a little at the anger in his tone.

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