“Yes. It is just better that way.”
“Because you should not have been out there alone in such a place?”
She made a hissing sound like a pot expelling steam.
“It matters not why I was there, or that I was. It matters that you tell no one what transpired.”
He hadn’t planned to, but the fact that she was so determined he did not intrigued him.
“Why were you there?”
“It matters not.” She looked over his shoulder.
The top of her head came to his nose, and when they moved, he leaned in and inhaled her scent.
“Considering you wish for my secrecy, I think you should tell me.”
She looked up at him. Her green eyes were fringed by dark lashes, her brows an elegant arch above them. Her cheeks were now brushed with color. Ash thought perhaps that was anger.
“Is that a threat?”
“Curiosity.”
“I believe you have a love of ancient languages and Roman mythology, Mr. Charlton?”
“Ash, and who told you that?”
“Your brother, of course.”
It shocked him that Gus had spoken of him at all.
“Your brother loves you, so he spoke of you,” she said, her tone gentle. How had she known what he was thinking?
“He should feel nothing for me.” The words came out harsh, but she didn’t flinch.
“We all make mistakes, Mr. Charlton.”
He snorted. “You speak of the childish mistakes of youth, Miss Dorset. I’m speaking of mistakes that have the power to destroy a life.”
“And you believe I have never had harm befall me, Mr. Charlton? That I have been cosseted for the entirety of my life?”
He didn’t speak, just looked around the room. Of course she’d had a cosseted life. One glance at the people in this room told him that.
“Your silence tells me enough. So let me enlighten you on some of our family history.”
“There is no need.”
“There is every need, it would seem, seeing as clearly you believe we have always had wealth and happiness, which I assure you could not be further from the truth.”
Her words had a chilly snap to them now.
“I did not intend my words to be an insult, Miss Sinclair, merely fact.”
“Of course they were. You would not have said my mistakes were the childish ones of my youth had you not meant to insult.”
He wished now he’d guarded his tongue.
“My sister Eden was poisoned. My brother Dev was shot. Cambridge was kidnapped. Max, my brother-in-law, was chained to a post so he could drown when the water rose. Somer was rescued by your brother while a man had her in his rowboat taking her to be sold into slavery. I could go on, as the list is a long one, so I’ll finish with, I was shot by an arrow last year and only by my family’s quick thinking did I live.” She’d spoken the words like she’d been reading poetry.
