She shook her head.
“Then I don’t care,” he said firmly. “I don’t care what you did before me. Because from the moment we met, you’ve been mine, Penny. I was just too stupid and angry to realize it when you first told me of your past.”
“I shouldn’t have lied to you,” she said in a small voice.
“So don’t do it now.” His eyes were soft, inviting. “If we’ve learned anything from all of this, it’s that we can trust our love to survive mistakes. Your lies, my foolish behavior. Our love can get us through anything.”
“I was raped.” The words burst from her.
In the silence that followed, her heart thundered in her ears, wings of panic beating in her breast. She saw the flames explode in Marcus’ eyes, and every fiber of her braced for the worst.
“Penny. My God.” He cupped her jaw. His hands shook, yet he touched her with such care and tenderness that her throat thickened. “When?”
“Around the time I met Octavian.”
She saw raw pain slice across her husband’s features. His eyes closed briefly. When his lashes lifted, she saw the fire had been banked in those vibrant depths. His jaw quivered, betraying the sheer strength he was employing to keep his emotions in check. And he was doing it for her.
So she gave him more. “I was out late selling flowers. A man said he wanted to buy some but had forgotten his coin purse at his lodgings. He said if I followed him he’d take the rest of the lot in my basket. I knew better, but I was tired, and that day I hadn’t sold or stolen enough to buy the night’s supper. So I went with him.”
Marcus said nothing, listening, his silence more reassuring than any words.
Strangely enough, talking about this didn’t feel as bad as she’d feared it would. As she gave voice to the details, they seemed… muted somehow. Like something she was watching happen in the distance. Or through a pane of frosted glass.
“He forced me into an alleyway. Left me there afterward.” Her throat convulsed. “That’s how Octavian found me.”
Marcus’ chest surged, his hands holding firmly onto hers. “God, Penny.” His words were rough with emotion, and to her shock, she saw that his eyes were wet. “You must have been frightened out of your wits.”
“I was, at first. But Octavian said something to me that took away the fear. He bundled me in his cloak and said,If it’s justice you want, come with me. I vow not to hurt you and to give you the weapons to avenge your honor.”
“You were a girl,” her husband said, his voice turning low and dangerous, “and a hurt and vulnerable one at that. What the hell was he thinking?”
“He’d seen me in action in Covent Garden. I’d caught his eye when he was there tracking down a Frenchman named Vincent Barone, an enemy agent notorious for his cruelty and ruthlessness, his love of inflicting pain.” Her heart thumping, she forced herself to go on. “As Fate would have it, Octavian’s enemy and mine turned out to be the same. Thus, I dedicated myself to the training he offered: the art of disguise, combat, coding—I learned everything that I could.”
In truth, she’d soaked it up like a thirsty sponge. The need for revenge had displaced helplessness, given her a sense of power. Recalling how Octavian’s approval of her progress had meant the world to her, she felt that old twinge of bitterness. But it was just a twinge, tempered now by an acceptance of who she’d been: a young girl in need of a parent, some older, wiser figure. It happened that the man she’d chosen for that role valued ambition more than anything else, including those who’d worked for him.
Still, in some ways, she owed Octavian her life.
“Three years later, in a brothel in Dieppe, I had the opportunity to mete out my justice,” she went on. “Barone didn’t recognize me in my disguise, drank the wine I served him. And when he lay there, dying, I told him exactly who I was and why his next breath would be his last. I walked out of there knowing I wasn’t powerless anymore.”
Even as the words spilled from her like water from a dam, anxiety frothed inside her. God, she sounded so… ruthless. Aggressive and cold-blooded, like no lady would ever sound. Was Marcus shocked? Had she succeeded in disgusting him at last?
“The bastard deserved to die.” Marcus’ tone was savage. “My only regret about his death is that I cannot kill him all over again. I’d like to tear the bugger from limb to limb, rip his bloody heart out.”
Her heart thudding, she saw the primal intent in Marcus’ eyes, his fierce expression. It was the look of a man who meant what he’d said: he would kill for her. He would avenge the wrong that had been done to his woman. Such brutal justice might offend the sensibilities of a well-bred lady, but to Penny it was a revelation.
Finally shefeltthe truth of what he’d told her time and again. He loved her. Lovedher.No matter what and with a ferocity that satisfied her deepest longings.
He loved her the way she loved him.
Certainty flooded her, along with a relief so great that she felt her soul let out a sigh. It made it easy to let go of the rest. To cleanse herself of the past once and for all.
“The other two men I was with were part of missions. Chenet and Martin—they were nothing but means to an end. Octavian had taught me to use every weapon available to me, including my physical charms. At the time, I thought it was a form of power. I wasn’t going to be anyone’s victim again; I was going to usethem. I thought that, in using my body,Iwas in control. Flora tried to dissuade me from that dark path, told me I was trading one devil for another. She said I deserved far better.”
“I’m adding a full bloody wing to Flora’s Abbey.”
Marcus’ grim and unexpected humor startled a gurgled laugh from her throat. She hadn’t ever imagined that she could feel lightness while talking about her past; it was yet another gift he’d given her.
Now it was her turn to take his face in her hands. His bristly jaw was quivering with what he was feeling for her, but his eyes burned with love.
