Page 37 of When the Rogue Returns
That was the crux of it. She’d kept secrets from him the whole while.
“I was afraid of what you’d think of me, damn it!” she cried.
The irony was painful. He’d been afraid of the same thing—what she would think ofhimif he told her about his past.
Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I hoped I could make it all go away, and you’d never have to know what they were plotting. Never have to know that my family considered thievery an acceptable choice.”
“You were protecting them.”
“No.” She scrubbed her face. “Yes. I don’t know.” She cast him an imploring glance. “I created that parure before you even started courting me. I’d always helped Papa craft the imitation jewels to adorn his clocks, and I was good at it. They made it sound so simple—I would fashion the fake, then they could sell it and make enough money to lighten our troubles. That’s what Gerhart said.”
“And you went along with whatever he said,” he grumbled, remembering how her sister and brother-in-law had treated her.
She faced him, taking a belligerent stance. “Jacoba and I owed Gerhart our very lives. You don’t know what things were like for us after Papa died. No one would frequent a clock shop owned by two girls, and Papa hadn’t left us much money. Then Gerhart married Jacoba and gave us both a home. If not for him—”
“You and I would have had these ten years together. So don’t make excuses for him,” Victor said in a hard tone.
All the starch went out of her spine. “I’m not,” she whispered. “I’m making excuses forme. For why I agreed to make the parure in the first place.”
He saw the guilt on her face before she pivoted away, and it tore at him. He caught her arm to turn her toward him. When she just stared down at the floor, it drove a stake through his heart.
“That isn’t entirely your fault,” he said hoarsely. “Gerhart played on your feelings of indebtedness. What you don’t seem to understand is that he didn’t marry Jacoba and take you in out of the goodness of his heart. He did it because he saw that he could use both of you to his own advantage. I always thought so.”
She still wouldn’t look at him. “You never said that.”
“No, and I should have. It was just... I was coming into a new family, and I didn’t want to create trouble between you and them.” He brushed a strand of her hair out of her face. “And you seemed to think well of them.”
“I loved my sister,” she said fervently. “She was the only mother I ever knew. And I was grateful for what Gerhart had done. I owed him the clothes on my back, the food in my belly—”
“For the first few years after your father died, perhaps,” Victor said, his temper flaring. “But after that, Gerhart got what he wanted out of you. He sent you out to work at the jeweler’s when you were only fifteen. When I met you, you were already earning an excellent income while he played cards with his friends in the shop, letting it run into the ground. You did more than your part in supporting those two.”
“Not according to them,” she said in a dead voice. “According to him and my sister, I was an ungrateful little whiner who couldn’t see how lucky I was to have them looking after me. And I believed them!” Her tone grew anguished. “I never guessed that she would ever be so... cruel as to drug me and tell me the lies she did that night. How could she have betrayed me so? How could I havelether?”
She finally lifted her gaze to his. “I regret that more than you can imagine.” Her breath came in tortured gasps now, as if she fought tears. “I regret that I was such a stupid little... mouse of a girl... that I never even saw—”
“Shh,” he murmured and pulled her into his arms. “Shh,lieveke.”
The endearment seemed to do something to her, for she tensed in his arms. “I’m so sorry. So... very... sorry...”
If she’d been weeping and protesting her innocence, he might have kept his heart hardened against her. But when she was blaming herself and struggling not to cry, he couldn’t take it. He’d always been a softhearted dolt when it came to her, and apparently that hadn’t changed.
Later he would make her tell him what she and her family had done with the jewels, why she’d come here alone. But for now, he needed to comfort her. To hold her.
To kiss her.
The moment his lips met hers, she froze. Then, like snow in sunshine, she melted, her mouth just as sweet as he remembered, soft and giving and warm. While he was kissing her, he could forget the past, forget why they’d been torn apart, forget that he’d come here for vengeance and justice. He could lose himself in her and pretend that nothing had changed between them.
She jerked back, her eyes dark and startled, her lips trembling. “Wait—I have questions, and I know that you must have some, too.”
“Not yet. Not now.” He dragged her fully against him. “Let me have this first.”
He kissed her again. And again and again, savoring the mouth he’d forgotten he’d missed, smelling the violet water in her hair. It was like sinking into a hot bath after a long day.
Except that instead of relaxing him, it drove him into a frenzy. Every inch of him was already hard for her, and she made it even worse by arching up against him, grabbing his head in her hands and kissing him back, feeding on his mouth as he was feeding on hers. She still wanted him, too.
She washis. Still his.
“Oh, Victor,” she whispered against his lips, “we shouldn’t do this.”
