to take her leave.
“Merci, Oncle.”
It was her customary closing with any of their conversations.
Thank you, Uncle. Thank you for taking me in after you murdered my parents. Thank you for allowing me breath one more day. Thank you for not committing most of the unspeakable crimes against me your soulless eyes promise you are capable of perpetrating.
Yet.
She hated him! If only her life didn’t stretch out before her as one endless act devoted to playing out the whims of that monster. Already, the sounds of despair and anger that she’d had trouble containing were threatening to escape, causing her shoulders to shake with the effort of subduing them. She closed the door to his study and turned to flee to her room. But when she turned, something solid and decidedly masculine blocked her path.
Without even looking, she knew who it was. Gray. She was always so preternaturally aware of him; every fiber of her being knew when he was near. Today he was Jean’s sentry. How had she not noticed him on her way into the study?
Strong hands came up to her waist to steady her. She slowly looked up at him, unable to so quickly hide the wetness in her eyes and the misery lurking behind them.
“Breathe.”
His voice poured over her, further igniting the prickling recognition she had no right to feel. It was an awareness that went much deeper than the simple fact that she had heard his voice many times before. Her fingers curled against his strong chest, begging to stroke him, to take some comfort from him, the man she had come to think of as her favorite.
Instinctively, her body did as he commanded. She sucked in a deep breath while allowing her gaze to trace his face and luxuriate in the rare chance to study him. He was stoic, forbidding like the rest of her uncle’s gunmen, and handsome. Her gaze touched his strong jaw, blade-straight nose and high cheekbones. Features that could have been called patrician but for the touch of bronze in his complexion and the midnight of his hair which bespoke a native heritage. It was a heart-stopping combination, and she wondered if that alone was the reason she was so fascinated by him, but then he spoke.
“Did he hurt you?” His gaze touched every part of her face, leaving her skin hot and tingling where it lingered.
In that look, she understood why she was drawn to him. The genuine concern there. He was the only one who looked at her as someone who might be in pain or need help. He gave her a glimpse of what it might be like to feel safe, even though the very idea of safe was wrong. If Jean ordered any of his men to remove her as a threat, none of them would hesitate.
Gray included. She shivered, reminding herself to never forget that. But still she couldn’t step away.
“No, he didn’t. I’m fine.” But then she shook her head because she wasn’t fine at all. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly. The back of her throat ached and she swallowed past the lump that had formed there.
“Just breathe in.” His hands began to lightly stroke up and down the length of her back. Again her body obeyed his command and she took in a deep gulp of air. “Now let it out slowly.”
His startling gray eyes held hers as he bid her repeat the process two more times. He was so confident in his soothing commands that the tension began to seep from her body. The feeling of security inexplicably made her confide her trouble to him. “I’m going to be married. I don’t…” But her voice trailed off when his eyes narrowed.
“When?” The question was a breath between them.
“In a month.”
Oh, God, only weeks away!
She bit the inside of her lip to keep it from trembling.
For a moment there was nothing, no response, nothing flickering in his eyes. There was only the sound of his breathing, slow and even. She fancied she felt it caress her cheek, but it was a ridiculous thought to savor now when her world had been pulled out from under her.
“Who’s the groom?” The muscle in
“Merci, Oncle.”
It was her customary closing with any of their conversations.
Thank you, Uncle. Thank you for taking me in after you murdered my parents. Thank you for allowing me breath one more day. Thank you for not committing most of the unspeakable crimes against me your soulless eyes promise you are capable of perpetrating.
Yet.
She hated him! If only her life didn’t stretch out before her as one endless act devoted to playing out the whims of that monster. Already, the sounds of despair and anger that she’d had trouble containing were threatening to escape, causing her shoulders to shake with the effort of subduing them. She closed the door to his study and turned to flee to her room. But when she turned, something solid and decidedly masculine blocked her path.
Without even looking, she knew who it was. Gray. She was always so preternaturally aware of him; every fiber of her being knew when he was near. Today he was Jean’s sentry. How had she not noticed him on her way into the study?
Strong hands came up to her waist to steady her. She slowly looked up at him, unable to so quickly hide the wetness in her eyes and the misery lurking behind them.
“Breathe.”
His voice poured over her, further igniting the prickling recognition she had no right to feel. It was an awareness that went much deeper than the simple fact that she had heard his voice many times before. Her fingers curled against his strong chest, begging to stroke him, to take some comfort from him, the man she had come to think of as her favorite.
Instinctively, her body did as he commanded. She sucked in a deep breath while allowing her gaze to trace his face and luxuriate in the rare chance to study him. He was stoic, forbidding like the rest of her uncle’s gunmen, and handsome. Her gaze touched his strong jaw, blade-straight nose and high cheekbones. Features that could have been called patrician but for the touch of bronze in his complexion and the midnight of his hair which bespoke a native heritage. It was a heart-stopping combination, and she wondered if that alone was the reason she was so fascinated by him, but then he spoke.
“Did he hurt you?” His gaze touched every part of her face, leaving her skin hot and tingling where it lingered.
In that look, she understood why she was drawn to him. The genuine concern there. He was the only one who looked at her as someone who might be in pain or need help. He gave her a glimpse of what it might be like to feel safe, even though the very idea of safe was wrong. If Jean ordered any of his men to remove her as a threat, none of them would hesitate.
Gray included. She shivered, reminding herself to never forget that. But still she couldn’t step away.
“No, he didn’t. I’m fine.” But then she shook her head because she wasn’t fine at all. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly. The back of her throat ached and she swallowed past the lump that had formed there.
“Just breathe in.” His hands began to lightly stroke up and down the length of her back. Again her body obeyed his command and she took in a deep gulp of air. “Now let it out slowly.”
His startling gray eyes held hers as he bid her repeat the process two more times. He was so confident in his soothing commands that the tension began to seep from her body. The feeling of security inexplicably made her confide her trouble to him. “I’m going to be married. I don’t…” But her voice trailed off when his eyes narrowed.
“When?” The question was a breath between them.
“In a month.”
Oh, God, only weeks away!
She bit the inside of her lip to keep it from trembling.
For a moment there was nothing, no response, nothing flickering in his eyes. There was only the sound of his breathing, slow and even. She fancied she felt it caress her cheek, but it was a ridiculous thought to savor now when her world had been pulled out from under her.
“Who’s the groom?” The muscle in
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