Page 66 of When the Rogue Returns
“I didn’t want to think it. But I hardly knew you anymore. When you first came here, you were so angry. And you had good reason. You still do. I took your child from you. My family took your reputation from you, and who knows what else. Any man would want revenge after that.”
He hated that he perfectly understood her reasoning. “Not againstyou,” he protested. “Am I angry that I lost ten years with you, and nearly that many with our daughter? Yes. Am I furious that it was because of your family’s greed? Certainly. But not at you.”
“But I’m the one who trusted them. I’m the one who chose to believe my family when I should have believed in my husband. I know you blame me for that, as well you should. My only defense is that I barely knew you then.”
“And I barely knew you. Otherwise, I would have realized at once that you could never have deserted me. So we were both at fault in how we handled their lies. But now that ten years have passed—”
“I know you even less now!” she cried. “Can you blame me for being cautious when you’re practically a stranger to me?”
“Is that the real reason you won’t bring me to my daughter?” he ground out. “Because you don’t trust me to be a good father to her?”
“Of course not. I just want to protect her from Jacoba and Gerhart.” Her gaze met his, softly pleading. “But you must give me time to ease her into it. Please, Victor.”
He stared at her, his heart thundering in his chest. “I can wait until we root out Gerhart. But know this, Isa: I want my family back. Youandher. You told Jacoba that you and I are together now. I hope you meant it.”
“I do.” Her gaze softened. “I want you back, too. You cannot know how much.”
At the look of hope on her face, his throat tightened. “You called me a stranger. But I’m the same man I was then—the husband who could never hurt you, the lover who never forgot you. Not for one second. You can trust me,lieveke.”
When her breath quickened and her eyes filled with longing, he murmured huskily, “So you know me better than you think.”
Then he covered her mouth with his.
15
LOOPING HER ARMSabout Victor’s neck, Isa lost herself in his kiss. In this, at least, he wasn’t a stranger to her. He could always make her burn, always make her desire him. She’d spent half the day reliving every velvet touch and hot caress from last night, wanting him all over again.
But was such volatile passion good for a marriage? Or as dangerous as cheese in a trap to a mouse?
He broke the kiss to murmur, “I knowyoubetter than you think, too.” His hands roamed her, untying and unbuttoning and unfastening. He nuzzled her ear, then breathed deeply. “I know that you rinse your hair in violet water, and prefer satin to silk.”
She couldn’t believe he remembered that. “That’s because satin is shiny,” she whispered. “Like diamonds.”
“Or stars.” His hand skimmed her cheek. “You used to know all the constellations.”
“I still do.” She caught his hand to press a kiss to his palm. “And you used to know the name of every regiment that fought at Waterloo. I remember your reciting them for me.”
His eyes darkened. “Now,thatis something I prefer to forget.” He drew off her gloves, then lifted one of her hands so he could run his tongue along her index finger. “I would much rather remember how you licked your fingers whenever you finished pressing the almond paste into thebanketstaaf.”
She blushed. “I would rather youdidn’tremember that. I was very unrefined.”
“You were refined enough for me. I miss yourbanketstaaf. I hope you’ll make some for me soon.” A teasing note entered his voice. “But don’t make your tea. You used to put far too much honey in it.” Catching her by the hand, he pulled her toward the sofa.
“That’s because you didn’t like tea. You always preferred coffee, black and very strong.”
“Ah, you remember that, do you?” he said with a grin. “It was a taste I acquired in Spain as a lad.”
She gaped at him. “I didn’t knowthat!”
When he hesitated, she feared he would brush past his childhood again. To her surprise, he admitted, “Although my mother was Belgian, my father was an English soldier. I spent most of my childhood in regimental camps across the Continent. One of those was in Spain.”
Tears stung her eyes. It was more than he’d ever told her about his family. She opened her mouth to ply him with questions, thirsty to know everything, but he cut her off with a long, passionate kiss that left her thirsty for something else entirely.
Next thing she knew, he’d dropped onto the sofa and pulled her astride his lap. He’d already opened her clothes enough to free her breasts, and as he filled his hand with one and his mouth with the other, she cried, “Victor... oh heavens,Victor...”
“I know what excites you,” he murmured, tonguing and teasing her nipple so enticingly that she clutched his head to her breast, wanting more. Always more.
After lavishing both breasts with attention, he pulled back to flash her a knowing smile and slipped his hand deep beneath her skirts until he found the slit in her drawers. When he fondled her there, she gave a low moan.
