Page 43 of Daring the Forbidden Earl
“You might have shouted to me, to put me out of my misery,” he teased. “I did not even know if you would be at home, or if your housekeeper had departed.”
She arched an amused eyebrow. “I am pleased you are here. I did not know when we might see one another next.” There was an anxiety in her voice that Mark did not quite understand.
“Are you well? You seem distracted?” He brushed his thumb across her cheek, desperate to taste her lips.
“I am perfectly well,” Johanna replied, though she could not look him in the eyes. It puzzled him, but he decided it was merely nerves about having him here in her apartments once more. She did like to act coy at times, and he rather liked when she did.
He grinned. “Well then, perhaps I can make you feel even better.”
He scooped her up into his arms and carried her down the hallway toward her bedchamber. Knowing he did not need to fear the housekeeper, as long as he vacated the apartments before early morning, he reveled in the knowledge that he had an entire night to show her just how grateful he was to be near to her once more.
Kicking open the bedchamber door, he carried her across to the bed and lay her down upon the coverlet. She giggled excitedly as her arms looped around his neck, tugging his head down toward her so she could catch his lips with hers. He did not need any persuasion, as their mouths met in a passionate frenzy, devouring one another as though they had been starved of each other.
“Which suggestion should we partake in tonight, my darling?” Johanna murmured against his lips, bringing his ardor to a sudden halt.
“Whichever you please, Sweeting,” he growled in reply, dipping his head to kiss along the curve of her neck.
Her eyes twinkled mischievously. “There is something I have been keen to try.” To punctuate her words, her hand slid along his abdomen and over the hardening length of his manhood, which strained against the fabric of his trousers.
His teeth grazed his lower lip. “I am the one trying to make you feel remarkable, Sweeting, not the other way around.”
“Nevertheless, I want to know what it is like to bring you pleasure.” She smiled up at him. “But… there is something I must ask you before we continue. It has been playing upon my mind, and I do not know if I can be at peace until I know.”
He arched a curious eyebrow. “What is it, Sweeting?”
“What did Peter do to you, to make you despise him so much? I keep thinking you will tell me, and then you do not, and I cannot stand the not knowing any longer.” Her mouth set in a grim line, and the lusty shine dimmed in her eyes. “I shared everything about my past with you, but you have not returned the favor.”
Mark did not know what had just happened. One moment, she was tracing her hand across his member, and the next… she appeared to be interrogating him. But he could not reveal this secret to Johanna. He could not reveal it to anyone.
“That is because you do not know what I have endured, and I do not wish you to,” he shot back, pulling away from her and setting himself on the edge of the bed. “I never speak of it, and that will not change.”
Tell her… Tell her or you may lose her.
His voice clamored in his head, but he ignored it.
“Did he beat you?” Johanna sat up and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Was he cruel to you? Did he try to steal your inheritance, or your father’s position? I cannot think of any other reason why you would despise him so violently.”
He twisted his head to look at her. “And I am glad you do not know the reason. It is not yours to know.” Already, the memories were bombarding his mind. “Please, do not ask me again. Know that it was unpleasant and be at peace with that.”
In his mind’s eye, he saw his younger self ascending the staircase of his country manor. He could not remember why he had wanted to go upstairs, but he recalled having a poetry book in his hand. Perhaps he had wanted to show his mother a particular passage, so he might see her smile. If he had known, then, that he would hear her crying out in pain, and see his uncle’s vile body pinning her down against her will, perhaps he would not have ascended those stairs. Or, perhaps, he would have mounted the steps with a pistol in his hand instead of a poetry book.
“I am not asking for marriage, for I know we cannot have it,” Johanna urged, “but how can I share everything that I am with you, if you do not do the same? How can I understand you if I do not know everything about you?”
Mark wished he could turn back the clock to the moment before she had opened the door to him. The second she had pulled him into her apartments, he would have wrapped her up in his arms and kissed her until she had no breath to ask such painful questions. He would have lain her down upon the floor and lavished his attentions upon her, kissing every inch of her skin, and plundering her secret bud with his tongue until her gasps of pleasure were the only things he could hear. If he could do that, maybe he would not be having this heart wrenching conversation.
You do not understand how much it hurts, Sweeting. I realize that could be resolved if I told you everything, but I would not put that pain upon you, too.
After all, she had spent seven years with the cretin, not knowing of his true, monstrous nature. And while that was something of a blessing, for it meant Johanna had never suffered, reliving that bygone agony would only remind him that he had not been able to save his mother from her fate.
“I am tougher than I appear,” Johanna continued. “Whatever it is, I can contend with it.”
Mark shook his head. “Do not press me on this matter.”
“Should I not know what I evaded? You call your uncle evil, yet I saw no evil in him. What am I missing, Mark? What could he have done to me that you so clearly feared, until I spoke with you the other night?” Johanna seemed determined not to let go of her inquiry.
She had a point. Maybe she did deserve to know what she had avoided suffering. In truth, Mark still could not fathom why his uncle had hurt his mother but had not laid a finger upon Johanna. Again, it was a twisted blessing of sorts, yet it still served to confuse him. Surely a despicable man such as Peter Carlton could not have changed so much.
“Please, Mark,” Johanna murmured. “I just want to understand. Have you always hated him, or was there a time when you did not?”
