Page 66 of A Game with the Rakish Duke
“Good morning,” he said, blinking rapidly. His eyes swept over her, taking in her naked body lying beneath the sheet. “You are a sight for sore eyes.”
Catherine blushed fiercely. She felt completely tongue-tied. The things they did together last night came rushing back to her mind again. The passion between them had burned so strongly that she was almost embarrassed now. She didn’t know what to say to him at all.
“How are you feeling?” he asked in a soft voice, reaching out to caress her face. “That was quite a night.”
Catherine’s blush deepened. “Yes,” she replied in an awkward voice. “It was, indeed.”
He sat up, leaning to the side and gazing at her intently. Her heart flipped over in her chest. He looked so earnest, his eyes much greener today rather than blue, the color of the sea on a cloudy day.
“I want to talk to you about something,” he said eventually, his face solemn. “And I want to do it now… before anything else happens between us.”
Catherine could barely breathe. “What do you want to say to me?”
He reached out again, trailing a hand down her left arm. She shivered. Already she was becoming aroused again. It wasn’t just the light, teasing touch on her skin. It was the fact that he was lying naked in her bed, tousled from sleep, looking so handsome and sensual that she could barely stand it.
Desperately, she tried to ignore her arousal. He wanted to talk with her. And she knew how important it was that theydidtalk in the aftermath of what had happened between them last night. For everything was quite different now.
His hand dropped from her arm, and she shivered at the loss of his touch.
“I want you to promise me that what I am about to tell you will remain between the two of us,” he said slowly, frowning. “I want your word that it will not leave this room.”
Catherine sat up, staring at him. He had her full attention now.
“I do so promise,” she whispered. “Cross my heart.”
He smiled faintly. “Thank you.”
His frown deepened, and he lapsed into silence for a moment. Catherine could barely breathe as she waited for him to say what he needed to say.
“You know that my mother died when I was eight years old,” he began abruptly, turning to her, a sharp look on his face. “Do you not?”
She nodded slowly. “Yes. I am so sorry for your loss?—”
Thomas clicked his tongue impatiently. “No. Please, I need to keep speaking.” He took a deep, ragged breath. “The thing is, she did not die when I was eight years old. As far as I know, she is still alive.”
“What?” Catherine sat up in the bed, gaping at him, her eyes wide. “I do not understand.”
His face twisted. “No, you would not understand. How could you?” He gazed at her steadily for a moment. “My mother abandoned my father and I when I was eight years old. She ran away with a sea captain. My father, to contain the scandal, told everyone that she was dead.”
Catherine gasped. Her heart gave an almighty thud in her chest. A wave of sorrow swept over her. She almost felt ill with it.
“She abandoned you?” Her voice was high-pitched and incredulous. “To make a life with another man? She left you behind to care for yourself, and you have never seen her since?”
Thomas nodded. He had paled, looking as ill as she felt. She saw that he had started to tremble ever so slightly. This was clearly something he rarely spoke about. She could see how the emotion was draining him even now.
“Yes,” he said abruptly, his lips thinning. “That is the gist of it. My father was a broken man. I swear that it sent him to his early grave.”
“I am so sorry,” Catherine whispered, shaking her head, her heart bleeding for him and the boy he had been. “What a terrible, tragic thing to live with. Especially to be forced to pretend that she had died when you knew the truth.” She hesitated. “How old were you when you discovered the truth?”
He looked grim. “I knew almost immediately,” he replied slowly. “My father wanted me to know the truth.” He hesitated. “And there is something else, Catherine. He was so devastated, so broken, that he made me vow that I would never lose myself to love. That I would never let a woman ruin me like my mother had ruined him.”
Catherine gasped again. Her head was spinning. Now, all of it was making sense. The pieces of the puzzle were slowly falling into place.
His friend, the Duke of Dunford, had told her there were reasons why Thomas was the way he was. He had also insisted that it was Thomas’s story to tell. And now, she had been told the story.
“What a terrible thing to force on a child,” she said, feeling like she wanted to cry. She could almost picture him as a boy, his father overwhelmed with grief and betrayal, making him swear to never fall in love. “I cannot believe your father did that to you!”
“He was in extremis,” Thomas explained, managing to grin wryly. “I never blamed him for it.” He took a deep breath. “This is why I have fought so hard to keep my distance from you. I never wanted to marry at all, but my grandmother was pressuring me badly, and you seemed like the best candidate… someone I could tolerate at least.”
