Page 38 of Enticing the Devil

But he did.

“I was ten when my mam married my stepfather and we moved to the farm. I learned quickly that my days would be filled with hard work. But it was still far better than the life we’d had before.”

His voice grew heavy with the last words, and though Anne was tempted to glance up at him, she didn’t want to risk disrupting his unexpected willingness to share.

“I didn’t want to like the man who’d courted my mam for years before finally convincing her to marry him,” he added with a hint of reflection in his tone. “But Cedric Thomas’s patience was endless. Even when it came to a lad with more anger than sense. I learned everything from him. Not just about farming but what it was to be a man who protected and provided for his family. I suppose it’s only natural I came to value the things he did.” He took a slow breath. “The only thing he loved more than the farm was us.”

Feeling the weight and depth in the last comment, Anne did glance up then to see him staring intently at a blade of grass pinched between his large fingers. There was a distinct air of sadness about him.

“Has he passed?”

He nodded. “Three years ago. I’m not his blood son, so he didn’t have to pass the farm to me, but the children he and my mam share are younger.” He dropped the blade of grass then brushed it from where it had landed on his thigh. “I reckon he passed it on to me because I was the only one capable of managing things.”

“Or perhaps because he knew you’d love it as he had,” Anne suggested softly.

His dark gaze met hers. By the heaviness and depth of his eyes, she could see he still mourned the man who’d raised him. And she suspected he worked hard every day to make him proud.

With a gentle clearing of her throat, she resumed her painting. “Tell me about your siblings. Do you have brothers or sisters?”

“Three brothers. Wretched scamps, every one of them,” he grumbled, but again, the warmth in his tone was undeniable. “And two sisters. One nearly grown and the youngest just four and a great trial to my patience.”

Anne smiled at the pride in his voice. “I imagine Miss Claybourne gets along with all of them quite famously.”

“Miss Claybourne has never met them,” he replied, a subtle hardness entering his tone. But then he added, “Though I reckon you’d be right.”

She knew it was absolutely none of her business, but something inside her urged her to ask anyway. “Why have they never met?”

His sigh was heavy and ragged. “I only just found out about my sire’s other bastard children a couple years ago.”

She’d wondered if that had been the case. “Was it very difficult to discover the existence of half siblings you’d previously known nothing about?”

“At first,” he replied gruffly. “But they’re a persistent bunch.”

Anne smiled. “I used to wonder what it’d be like to grow up with brothers and sisters.”

“Loud. With not a moment of peace to be found.”

She laughed then mused, “Still, it would’ve been nice to have someone.”

His expression seemed to darken at her words and she quickly glanced away. She’d never admitted as much to anyone before and it left her feeling ungrateful considering all he’d endured. She had no reason to complain—as her father had often expressed.

Forcing her attention back to her painting, she quickly became engrossed in the details of her task as she mixed the exact shade of green she wanted or carefully recreated the way light angled through the wide branches of the tree. She had no idea how much time passed while she layered pigments on the paper, ensuring just the right saturation of color with each stroke and twist of her brush.

But when she finally came to the main subject of the painting, her hand stilled.

She studied her original sketch still faintly visible beneath the transparent color she’d already applied, then lifted her gaze to the man reclining against the tree.

Something wasn’t quite right.

His pose was perfect. The angle of his head as he watched her at the easel, the way one of his forearms was propped atop his bent knee and the other hand rested on his outstretched thigh, the subtle physical mastery evident in his relaxed form... All perfect.

But something was still off.

He lowered his chin to send her a questioning look. “You appear disturbed, Lady Anne.”

“I am,” she replied then bit her lip when his brows shot up. “I’m sorry,” she continued quickly, heat rising in her cheeks. “It’s just...I wonder...would you mind removing your coat, please?”

There was a moment of hesitation, and for a second, she thought he might refuse. But then he leaned forward and shrugged the garment from his shoulders before slipping his arms free. He folded the coat and laid it on the grass beside him before reclaiming his previous position.

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