Page 37 of Blackwood

“Then what happened?”

Once satisfied with the bed, he shrugged. “I don’t know. I never saw him again. I went back to Alabama, taught the rest of the semester. That’s when Joan and I began our affair, so I spent most of my free time sneaking around with her.” His tone darkened. “Until it all ended, and she didn’t say a word to defend me.”

My thoughts were on fire, each flash sending off sparks that set another idea ablaze. I needed information, all I could get. But first, I needed to know if I could trust Garrett. “What happened that night when you got caught with Joan?”

His jaw tightened, and bitterness creased his brow. “I’d rigged her, tied her to the bed and”—He glanced at me—“caned her legs and stomach. She was bruised and nearly bloody when her husband walked in.” He glowered. “Of course she failed to mention how she’d begged for the cane.”

“Caned?” I conjured images of corporal punishment in other countries. “Like with a stick?”

“Just a yew rod. Thin, flexible. Leaves some vicious marks if you use it right.”

“Sounds painful.”

“Yes, but it also releases endorphins. The pain heightens the pleasure.”

It was the wrong time for a rush of blood to parts south, for anything remotely like attraction, but I couldn’t stop it. “Your pleasure, too?”

He licked his lips. “Yes.”

“You’d hit her and then…” I let my words trail away as that flicker of jealousy ignited in my heart.

“Yes. Then we’d fuck.”

I flinched at his directness. “So it was all consensual?”

“Yes.”

I chewed my lip as I searched his face for any sign of dishonesty. I found none.

He squeezed my hand. “I swear it was, Elise.”

My eyes widened. “Wow.”

“What?”

“That was the first time you’ve ever said my real name. Not Red.”

“Don’t get used to it, Red.” His familiar smirk reappeared.

“What happened next?”

“How did this turn from me asking your real reasons for being here into you interrogating me?”

A smile crept across my lips. “Just answer the question.”

“You sure you’re into archaeology and not law?” The smirk widened.

I wrinkled my nose. “I dig in the dirt. I don’t cover it up. Definitely not the traits of an attorney.”

“Noted. Tell me something first, and then I’ll tell you the rest of my sordid tale.”

I swallowed hard. “Okay.”

“Do you think your father is still alive?”

I dropped my gaze. “No. He’s not. I know it.”

“I’m sorry.” He shook his head.

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