The Duke Identity (Game of Dukes #1)(35)

“I was intrigued by the markings. It’s unusual jewelry for a lady.”

“Oh…I suppose it is.” After a moment’s hesitation, she held it up, showing it to him. “This is the crest for the House of Black. Grandfather modeled it after a medieval device. See the crossed swords? One represents protection, the other vengeance.” She tapped her fingernail against the small ruby embedded at the tip of one of the blades. “The blood is what binds our kin and warns our enemies not to cross us.”

“The medallion is a calling card to your enemies?” There was a harshness to his voice that she didn’t understand. “If they receive it, they know vengeance has come calling?”

“No.” Frowning, she tried to explain it better. “Grandfather doesn’t give the medallion to foes, only family members, loyal retainers, and those to whom he wishes to grant a boon. The medallions are meant to protect the wearers from anyone who might do us harm.”

Something passed through Bennett’s eyes. She didn’t know what he was thinking, but she felt the shift in his emotion. It invaded the room, as heavy and ripe as the air before a storm.

Uncertainty pelted her. “Um, ready for the next shot?”

The long case clock counted the moments as he studied her. Just like that, the storm seemed to pass. His expression cleared, and he nodded.

Relieved, she said, “Let’s play a winning hazard. You go first this time.”

He set up the balls. After executing a flawless shot, he stepped aside for her to go.

I can still tie. Gripping her mace, she visually lined her cue ball up with the red object ball. As she prepared to make her shot, however, awareness prickled through her. She could feel Bennett’s intent focus upon her. He didn’t look at her the way the duke had; Ransom’s flirtation had been casual, meaningless, his interest in her no deeper than the challenge of the moment. She was a diversion for his tedium, a way to refill his coffers so he could resume his rakehell ways.

Bennett, however, gave her his full attention. As if she were a creature he’d never encountered before and he wanted to understand her inner workings. No man had ever looked at her that way.

She forced herself to concentrate. But her arms were trembling, and when she shoved her mace, her ball veered off-course.

Annoyed at herself, she watched as her cue ball missed the red one completely. “You win again. What’s your question?”

Her plan wasn’t going well. At this rate, she’d never get to ask him if he did, indeed, rig that fountain and why. With an inward sigh, she wondered what mundane thing he would ask her now.

“Will you forgive me, Tessa?”

Her heart punched against her ribs. Bennett’s expression was stark, yet the tautness of his large frame conveyed that her answer mattered to him.

“For what?” she whispered.

“My treatment of you yesterday was unforgiveable. I was at fault. I lost control, and I blamed you for it.” A muscled ticked along his jaw. He gripped the upright cue in one hand, the ropey muscles of his forearm shifting. “I was no gentleman, and I ask for your forgiveness.”

“It was my fault,” she blurted. “I shouldn’t have thrown myself at you.”

“It was a good stratagem,” he said quietly. “But you caught me off-guard, and I don’t like being surprised.”

She took a few steps closer. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m the one who took my anger out on you.” He set his cue down on the table, shoved his hands in his pockets. “If I could take back those words,” he said gruffly, “I would.”

His apology flooded her with warmth. And wonder. No one had ever taken such care with her feelings—had taken such care with her.

“It’s all right,” she said softly…because now it was.

“No, it isn’t.” His gaze was steady, earnest. “What I called you—it’s not true.”

“I did assault you in a brothel,” she said with sudden humor. “Many might agree with your assessment.”

“You’re not a trollop.” His fierce rebuttal made her strangely giddy. “What I said reflects on me, not you. I spoke out of anger…because of something that happened in my past. But that has nothing to do with you. And I won’t have you calling yourself a trollop or making a joke of it. Or even thinking it.”

“What happened in your past?” she said.

“I don’t talk about it.” The steel shield slid over his expression. “I mention it only to prove a point: what happened was not your fault but mine. Now will you accept my apology or not?”

His brusque tone told her not to push…for now. Besides, she’d never shared such aching honesty with anyone before. She wasn’t ready for the intimacy to end.

You wanted to win Bennett’s affections. ’Tis now or never. Be brave.

In that moment, she realized that honesty—exposing one’s true desire—required more courage than any contrived stratagem.

Drawing a breath, she closed the remaining space between them. He stilled, tension tightening his broad shoulders. Tipping her head back, she looked into his guarded gaze.

“I’ll accept your apology,” she said, “if you’ll accept mine.”

His brows drew together. “You’ve naught to apologize for.”