A Lady by Midnight (Spindle Cove #3)(76)

“Floggings,” he said. “A hundred lashes, for my countless offenses. They laid open my flesh to the muscle, and I swear to you, I didn’t feel a stroke. Because I’d learned how to deaden myself. To pain, to sorrow, to sentiment. To everything.”

Tears stung at the corners of her eyes. She couldn’t decide whether he deliberately told her falsehoods or had convinced himself of these untruths, but she hated hearing him speak this way.

This man felt, and he felt deeply.

“Samuel . . .”

“No. I know what you’re thinking. Today, you’ve remembered some boy you once knew. He was fond of you and kind to you, and he did you a good turn, once. That boy doesn’t exist anymore. The man I am . . . well, you can read for yourself.” He pointed out the marks on his skin, one by one. “Thief. Prisoner. Drunken soldier. Bad character, through and through. I went dead inside long ago. And I feel nothing now.”

She approached him slowly, in small increments, just as she would approach a cornered wild animal she didn’t want to frighten away.

“Do you feel this?” She tilted her head and leaned in to kiss his neck. The scent of him made her pulse with longing.

“Katie . . .”

“What of this?” She stretched to kiss his cheek, allowing her lips to linger on the hard edge of his jaw. “Or—”

He seized her by the arms, pushing her back. “Stop.”

She dropped her gaze to his chest, surveying all the marks and scars he’d collected since they parted in her childhood—all of them incurred, in part, for her. The enormity of what those marks represented eclipsed any fear or sorrow she’d ever known. She could scarcely comprehend the magnitude of his suffering, but she forced her mind to stretch, to try. He’d sacrificed everything, including the only home he ever had. He’d bought her a bright, shiny future at the cost of his own freedom.

How could she not love him? How could he deny loving her?

“My whole life,” she began, her voice faltering, “I clung to just a few scraps of memory. No matter how bleak my surroundings, those vague recollections gave me hope that someone, somewhere, had cared for me, once. And I always believed, to the very center of my being, that one day someone would love me again.”

“Well now you’ve found the Gramercys. They will—”

“You. I found you.” She put her hands on his chest. “The Gramercys are wonderful people. I’m so fond of them now, and they’re fond of me. But they never knew I existed. My poor mother . . . she seems to have been too preoccupied, and then too sick to give me much love. None of them were that force I carried all along, that hope that sustained me for years. That was you. All you.”

A tear spilled down her cheek. “ ‘Be brave, my Katie.’ I remembered you saying that. You can never know what those words meant to me, and it was your voice, all along. And if—”

He closed his eyes and pressed his brow to hers. “Katie, I beg you. For your own good, stop this.”

“And if you deny it now . . .” She worked her hands high enough to frame his face. “If you deny that you care for me, you’ll make my whole life a lie.”

He shook his head. “You’re dreaming. Or confused. Overwrought by the day, perhaps. You can’t mean to suggest you’d give up everything here. The Gramercys, the wealth, all your friendships.”

“To be with the man I love? Absolutely.”

“Don’t.” His arm whipped around her and he turned, pressing her against the wall. “Don’t say it. You can’t love me.”

“Are you doubting my sincerity? Or are you forbidding me to love you?”

“Both.”

He pinned her with a glare that was stern and fierce and ice-cold blue. So blue it made her heart sing. At last she knew why she’d carried that memory of blue in her heart.

It was him. It had always been him.

His jaw tightened. “I have nothing to offer you. Nothing.”

“If that’s true, it’s only because you’ve already given me everything a man could give. You saved me, Samuel. Not just the once, but so many times. You stepped in front of a horse whip. You took a melon to the head. You caught an adder in your bare hand, you dear, foolish man.”

“I did that for the dog.”

“My dog. Which you let me keep, even though you prized him yourself.” She stroked his cheek, trying to soften his expression. “I know you care. And I know you want me.”

He didn’t try to deny that part. The desire in his eyes was knee-melting.

“When you look at me that way, I feel so beautiful.”

“You are beautiful.” He sighed deep in his chest. His hands slid up and down her arms, caressing her roughly. “So damned beautiful.”

“So are you.” She put a hand to his bare chest, tracing the defined ridges of his musculature. “Like a diamond. Hard and gleaming, and cut with all these exquisite facets. Inside . . . pure, brilliant fire.”

She slid her hands to the back of his neck, plunging her fingers through the velvety nap of his short hair. The clipped ends teased the webs between her fingers, setting off sparks of sensation throughout her body. She drew his head down to hers until his lips—so strong, so sensual—filled her vision. And then she closed her eyes and explored those lips with her own. Pressing slight, tender kisses to each corner of his mouth. Capturing his top lip between both of hers, and then giving the lower its due.