It was Ripley, of course. He entered the chamber and shut the door. His gaze flitted to the plate still untouched by her side. “You haven’t eaten.”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t.”
“Janie, starving yourself will only make you less able to concentrate,” he insisted. “You must be sharp for what will come next.”
She gave him a look. He was saying whatever he felt would force her to eat. And it was working. She pulled the plate closer and speared one of the roasted potatoes. As she chewed, she shook her head. “You are far too good at knowing what I need to hear.”
He took a seat across from hers and gave her a weak smile. “I’m good at knowing what you need. And you’re too clever not to recognize I’m right.”
For a while she ate and he only sat with her in silence. There was something comforting about that. His calm made her calmer, somehow. His presence kept her warm in the chill of her fears.
At last, though, she set aside her plate half-eaten and settled back in her chair with a long sigh. It was only then that he spoke again, “Tell me.”
She pinched her lips together. “Haven’t I dumped out my troubles enough? God, I have swept into your life and turned it upside down. In the end, you’ll despise me.”
“Not possible.” His voice was low and rough. He sat on the edge of his chair, draping his elbows over his knees. His focus on her was so intent that it felt like she was being speared into place. “Tell me.”
Her breath came shorter and harsher at that order. Her life had been spent hiding her feelings. They’d never been safe with her mother, she’d feared hurting her sister. In her life as a lightskirt and mistress, she’d been nothing but a doll to play with for the lovers who met her. They didn’t want her emotions, just her body. Even with Esme, who she considered herself closest to, she kept much of herself secret. Why hurt her?
But with Ripley? He made it impossible to hide. It was as if he had keys to her heart, to her soul, and he could open her up any time he liked. That was the danger of love, wasn’t it? That was why she’d avoided the attraction that had always sparked between them. She feared this. Being not just perceived, but seen. Understood. A person who could do that held a great deal of power.
And yet abuse of power wasn’t what terrified her. It was opening doors that she knew might not ever fully close again.
“I’m…” She searched herself, trying to define everything boiling inside of her. “I’m…angry.”
He nodded but didn’t interrupt.
“I’m angry at my mother for failing her daughters. I’m angry at myself for not seeing that I was making things worse with my sister.” Now that she had started, that anger burned in her chest, making itself bigger. “I’m angry at Nora.”
She bit back the rest because it didn’t seem right to be angry with someone she had harmed. But Ripley wouldn’t let her pull that punch. “Go on.” he said evenly.
“I-I’m angry at Nora for running away from safety like a petulant child. How could she bolt from security? She had choices, I worked hard so she would have choices! I didn’t want her to end up with no choices like…like me.”
Her eyes stung, but she blinked away the tears that threatened. Now that the anger was flowing, she realized there had been a dam of it, pressure increasing for years.
“I hate that I’m helpless.” She got up now and paced the room, back and forth, hands shaking at her sides. “I have built my entire life around not being helpless. Oh, it all makes me so angry! I want to…I want to…”
“Hit something,” Ripley filled in softly.
Jane stopped pacing and stared at him. While she was a raging tempest, he was calm. There was no judgment in his suggestion, but there was a great deal of understanding. Of course there would be. He’d come from a background so similar to her own. He understood what it was like to grasp for even a whisper of control in a swirling sea of chaos.
“Yes,” she admitted.
He pushed to his feet and began to unbutton his jacket. “Well, that I can help with.”
What terrified Ripley about Jane’s current state was that she didn’t argue with him. She didn’t question. After he’d suggested he could help her hit something, she had quietly done everything he’d asked. He was so accustomed to her taking a more active role in anything she did. He was so used to her asking questions.
To see her almost meek…no, that wasn’t the right word for it. Desperate was more like it. She was so desperate to make this situation change that she would do anything he asked.
And he feared he couldn’t save her. In the end, he might be just as helpless as she claimed to be.
He shook off those thoughts and focused instead on what they were about to do. He had stripped to only his trousers. She had removed her dress and slippers. Was it distracting to look at her in her short chemise, her pink stockings tied with velvet ribbon against her pale thighs?
Certainly. Was he going to do anything about it? Absolutely not. She needed a different kind of outlet at present.
“Normally I’d spend a little time explaining the basics of fighting,” he said. “But you spent so much time at the club in Esme’s corner that I think that might be sporting with your intelligence. So perhaps it would be better for you to show me what you recall.”
She immediately shifted into a fighter’s stance, her right leg slightly back, her hands fisted and up to block her face. He smiled.
