Page 13 of The Taming of a Wicked Rogue

Rebecca drew up her shoulders and tried to swallow the painful web of emotions in her throat. “If I am such a pain in the rear, why did you offer me a bed at Eastwick? And why oh why are you following me?”

“Perhaps because I want answers.”

“Answers? I already told you I am visiting the house.”

“After much persuasion,” he said dryly.

“Leo, I do not have time for this.” She marched on but this time he stepped in front of her, blocking her path. She tried to step around, but he moved again. “Leo!” she said, frustration tinging her voice.

“I want answers, Rebecca, and you are going nowhere until I have them.”

She met his serious gaze and frowned. “You can hardly keep me captive.”

He shrugged. “I probably could if I wished.”

Eyeing his folded arms, she suspected he was right. He could easily scoop her up and do whatever he wished with her. A tiny swirl of anticipation coiled around her stomach, and she inhaled deeply to remove the foolish sensation.

“Very well. What do you wish to know?”

He uncrossed his arms. “What happened that night?”

“I do not know why you—” He fixed her with a look, and she sighed. “Very well, you know what happened. My father’s creditors caught up with him and we left, fleeing to Italy so they could not catch us.” She waved a dismissive hand. “But you should know this. It has been widely written about since his death.”

“I did not know it at the time. You vanished, Rebecca. Gone. Like you were never even here.”

Pain etched furrows in his brow, and it made Rebecca’s breath catch. “I am sorry, but my father gave us no chance to send word or scarcely even pack. He had us leave under the cover of darkness before either my mother or I knew what his intent was.”

“And you settled in Florence?”

She nodded. “My mother is still there. I will return to her once my business here is complete.”

“Which is?”

“Private,” she said tightly and tried to step swiftly around him.

Leo shifted and put both hands to her arms. “One more question then...why did you never write? Why not one single word?”

She glanced away. “Why should you wish to hear from me? My father left owing money to the people of this town. Even your father!”

“You did nothing wrong, Rebecca.” He released her arms and ran a hand over his face. “Hell, I was in ignorance as to your whereabouts for years. One letter would have sufficed.”

“I really did not think—”

“You thought wrong, Rebecca. Gravely wrong. Of course I would wish to hear from the girl I loved.”

The word rang in her ears and swirled around her like a violent tempest. Her eyes began to burn with unshed tears, and she swallowed hard. “I...I was wrong,” she managed to say huskily. “I’m sorry.”

“Damn right,” he muttered.

She stared at the polished tips of his boots, marred slightly by a few errant blades of grass. Of course, she’d known she caused him pain, but she did not realize any of it still lingered like it did with her. As far as she was concerned, Leo Moncrieff had moved on from her a long time ago.

“I’m trying to make things right,” she confessed, keeping her gaze to the ground. “That is why I am here. To heal some of the hurt my father caused.”

Chapter Six

If Rebecca thought he was going to be satisfied with the minimal answers she’d given him, then she truly did not know him anymore. She called it stubbornness, he called it tenacity. Usually he used it in swaying some beautiful widow into his bed for one night only, but today he would use it to get more information from Rebecca.

Though, in doing so, he would have to be careful. He’d already stolen far too many glances at her rear or wondered how it would feel to tangle his fingers in her hair.

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