Author: Tammy Andresen
Category: Historical
Go to read content：https://readnovelfree.com/p/32825_9
Her insides shivered again. But she didn’t wish to think about herself or her past.
She wanted to continue to talk about him. Without thought, she lifted her hand and ran the tips of her gloved fingers across the jagged skin. “It adds to your look of danger and power. For that reason, the scar is dashing, but it also looks as though it caused you a great deal of pain.”
He covered her hand with his, pressing the palm to the cheek. “It did indeed hurt very much. But it wasn’t the damaged skin that caused the real pain.”
She gasped in a breath. What did that mean?
* * *
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Why had he just shared that painful detail about his past?
Damian never shared with others the pain he’d experienced that day he’d been scarred for life or the dark ones that followed. How someone he loved could so cruelly hurt him, scar him completely, inside and out.
“What was the real pain?” Her words were so low, he might have missed them but her fingers flexed against his cheek.
He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. What did you mean, you thought you were a good person?”
She slid her fingers down his cheek and along his jaw. “We’ve hardly talked about you at all.”
“It’s my turn to ask.”
He watched as indecision tightened her face. “To be a man’s mistress…”
He supposed he understood. But her fingers fluttered and she shifted as though the answer made her uncomfortable or she wasn’t being truthful. “A duke’s paramour holds more sway than being Mrs. Winterset.”
She took another swallow of wine and didn’t answer. But he saw it again. The way her face twinged. Did she do that every time he used her married name?
“Dinner is served,” the butler called from the door.
He held out his elbow. “You know,” he started, “if we’re going to get to know one another, we might as well be honest.” She jolted, the shudder reverberating through his coat.
They followed to the dining room, silence settling about them until they’d been seated. Her gaze had cast down at the table and he itched to lift her chin again. Instead, he cleared his throat. “The scar is from a red-hot poker. Wielded during a fight with my former fiancée.”
She gasped, one of her hands clunking against the table. “A woman did that to you?”
He quirked a brow. “Any man worth his salt is at a woman’s mercy.”
“How so?”
He waved a hand in the air. “Even with my face on fire, I’d never strike back.”
A little something in her melted. He held an air of danger but those words…they put her at ease. “So, what happened with this woman?”
A muscle in his jaw ticced. That was a story he’d not delve into. “We parted ways shortly after.” But he’d hoped he’d accomplished his mission. He’d wanted to share so that she might. He’d like to know exactly what held her back from accepting his terms. And from life in general. He knew, of course. Despite the financial freedom he offered, a woman’s very security, her identity was tied into the match she made. But, somehow, he sensed something else also held her back. “Now it’s your turn. You married to be a good person.”
The soup was served and he watched as she stared into beef broth. “My husband. He was ill when I married him. He never seemed able to breathe right. Every winter it got worse until the last…”
His brow drew together. His chest tightened both in admiration and, honestly, regret. It was a difficult choice she’d made and one that had lasting ramifications. She wanted to be a good person so she’d married a sick man. “You married him to be his nurse.”
One of her shoulders raised. “That was part of the reason, to be certain.”
He grimaced. He’d sensed that she was kind. And he had his evidence but now he wondered, would a woman who married a sick man consent to being a temporary fixture in his life? Was he a complete cad for even asking? He didn’t want to feel remorse. He’d help her. Make her life better and ultimately give her choices. With the money he’d provide, any number of men would wish to wed her. But a woman with that sort of moral compass…
His gut clenched when he thought of her refusal. He wanted her more than he’d wanted anything in quite some time.
He cocked his head. Surprisingly, she’d make a good duchess. She had a quiet calm presence about her. And she possessed an inner dignity and reserve suited to become one. Not to mention her sweet and alluring beauty.
But he’d never marry a woman to whom he was so attracted. After what had happened to him years ago, a relationship filled with this sort of passion would need an exit strategy.