Paying the Virgin's Price (Regency Silk & Scandal #2)(25)

He thought on it for a moment, and a strange expression crossed his face. 'I suppose that is true. I must tell you about myself. Although, I am afraid that the story will not be pleasant.' And his arm tightened against hers, tucking her hand close to his side. 'I hardly know where to begin.'

She gave an encouraging squeeze to his arm. 'Begin with your family, then. Are they living? Or are you alone?' Like me. She had almost added the words, but did not wish it to seem that she was searching for more similarities.

'My father is...dead. He died when I was just a boy.' That seemed a difficult admission, and she wondered: had they been so close that it still grieved him?

'And what of your mother?'

'I have not seen her for many years, nor my sisters.'

'You are estranged from them?'

'Not by my doing, I assure you. I pray daily for their welfare.' It touched her heart that he looked so distressed that she might think him capable of abandoning them. It was just another example of his tender heart.

His eyes fell. 'After Father's death, there were difficulties. Our finances were strained. We children took employment, and each contributed to the family's welfare as best we could. But one night, when I was returning from...work. I was set upon by a press gang.'

'You were in the Navy, then?' It explained the commanding way he stood, as though the earth could move under him and he would not stagger.

He gave a sad smile. 'You make it sound very heroic. I was there against my will. Off the coast of France, and then the Americas. I spent the first months--sick as a dog from the motion of the water--trying desperately to contact my family, to explain why I could not come home to them. But I do not think the letters found them, for there was no response.'

'It must have been horrible, not knowing.'

His mouth made a bitter line. 'Six years of my life, wasted.' And then he looked at her, his eyes sombre. 'And this is where you will see me for the sort of man I truly am. For when I finally got the opportunity, I jumped ship.'

'You are a deserter?' She almost released his arm. For it was most shocking, and not at all in keeping with the man she was convinced that he was.

'Do you blame me? The law that took me was for trained seamen. It was never meant to drag inexperienced men to sea against their will so that they could lose the King's ration of bread and grog over the side whenever the ship crested a wave. I was a terrible sailor, from the day they took me to the day I ran.' He opened his hands, staring into the palms. 'Look here. See the scars? This is where I lost my grip on the sheets, and the rope near skinned my hands. I could show you the marks of the flogging I got for that, as well. And the places where the sun burned my skin to blisters. It was a hard life, and I was glad to be rid of it.'

'But to run away...' It was so different from what she expected from him that she hardly knew what to think.

'They had no right to take me, and their callous stupidity jeopardized the safety of my family. God only knows what happened to them, without my protection.' He frowned. 'I tell myself that my sisters are most likely married, with families of their own by now. But I know that is probably a lie. And it is a shame. For over the years my fortunes have changed much. If I could but find them, I could support them in luxury and quite make up for the hardship I left them in.'

And knowing the sort of things that might happen to a woman alone, or even through the carelessness of one such as her father, she had to agree. 'You were right to worry, and I can understand your actions in trying to get back to them. But to live under the stigma of desertion cannot be easy. Perhaps if you appealed to the Admiralty, they would give you a proper discharge.'

'Perhaps. My claim is legitimate. But I have, shall we say, a certain lack of faith in the English courts. They have never been a friend to my family. And while the law clearly states that I am in the right, it would be scant comfort to have that as an epitaph, should they decide to execute me for desertion. Once I earned enough money in Boston to pay for a passage home, it seemed easier just to start anew. And mask my identity.'

The pause now was a long one, until he was sure that she understood. 'I am not at all the sort of man you might think me, Miss Price. Not in behaviour. Not even in name.'

Perhaps she did not know him as well as she thought. Yet, when she looked into his eyes, and felt his hand on hers, she was sure she did. 'It does not matter.' She reached out with her other hand, and laid it upon his sleeve, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze that seemed to startle him.

He put his other hand on her shoulder. 'I did not wish for my story to sound like a morbid attempt to garner your sympathy.'

'I did not think you did. But it is a tragic story, all the same. It is all right. Your life has been difficult. You have done the best you could with it. I understand.'

He pulled free of her grasp and slipped his arm around her waist. 'You do not know how much your words mean to me, Miss Price. They are like a balm upon the old wounds. And I had never thought to hear them from your lips.' And with that, he pulled her close and kissed her.

The moment seemed to go on forever. But perhaps it was because she closed her eyes and held her breath, as if she could keep very still and hold time in place. She had spent much of the recent years interrupting such attempts by Honoria's suitors and thwarting their few successes. But at some point, years ago, she had quite given up the dream that a moment like this would ever come to her. And now that it had, she felt quite remorseful for depriving Honoria of the joy of it. For to feel the rough of his cheek brushing against hers, and the firm warmth of his hand, his breath upon her face, the softness of his mouth and the barest touch of his tongue against her lips was pure heaven.