Thorfinn’s undamaged eye fluttered closed. When he reopened it, the sheer pain and turmoil in his gaze tore at Rose.
“It was the day that the Earl of Mar blinded me.”
“The earl!” Pinpricks of cold dotted Rose’s skin. His own father had maimed him?
“I don’t think he intended to inflict the extent of the damage that he ultimately did, but the fact that he’d almost killed me didn’t much bother him.” Thorfinn’s voice was hollow, mechanical. “He wasn’t just laird here on Hamarray or even a mere peer of the realm. He was a god—leading the hunt, the excess, the merriment, the ruination.”
“A Dionysus.” Rose had never thought about the term from the other side—those who did not command the party but were forced to make it happen. Guilt awoke inside her again as she thought of the frivolous life that she’d led.
Thorfinn swallowed. “Aye. But he was a cruel one, Rose. You are not. But three days ago when I said those awful things about you in theservants’ hall—you and the earl blended in my mind. It was likely the shock of seeing the duke.”
“Percy?” Rose asked in disbelief. Percy was no candidate for moral propriety, but she could not imagine him associating with the type of debauchery Thorfinn was hinting at. Besides, Percy would have been a child himself. “Had you met him before?”
“Nay, but physically he is remarkably like his late uncle, who was a frequent visitor to Hamarray. He was ... especially fond of my mother.”
Rose had no trouble understanding his meaning. She felt as if someone had dunked her into an ice bath as the horror spread through her.
“When the Earl of Mar first took notice of my mother, he considered her just his. He said pretty things, gave her a trinket or two—nothing that a real mistress would receive, but my mother grew up with nothing, so it meant a great deal to her. He—as he would boast—groomed her. He was not particularly happy when I was born, but he allowed her to keep me, provided I would be a quiet presence and that I would work when I was old enough.”
Pain for Thorfinn blistered inside Rose.
“Mar ...” Thorfinn swallowed. “He—he grew bored with my mother ... or perhaps less jealous of her. It amused him to share her. With the duke. With the others. They liked suffering. All of them. They had illegal cockfights all the time. I hated those. Hated the sounds. The dogfights were even worse. Sometimes ... sometimes they’d pay the footmen to box or, if they wanted a laugh, us younger boys. They found it a grand lark.”
“Oh, Thorfinn.” Rose, who always had a quip at the ready, had nothing to say in the face of such brutality. She reached for him once more, and he accepted the embrace, pulling her close against him.
“When I got older, I would try to bar the gentlemen from seeing her, but I was still a slight lad. The earl would knock me about for my insolence, but it never stopped me from trying. Then one night—that night—he pushed me into the fire grate.”
Rose tried to stop her gasp, but she could not manage it. She had witnessed the horrors of war—the damage that humans could wreak on each other. She’d heard the cries, the screams, the moans, the silence. But a father treating his own child in such a manner ...
And this wasThorfinn. Steady, strong, good-hearted Thorfinn—the one who eschewed war to care for his siblings. The one who fought for his neighbors’ livelihoods. The one who’d dug through rubble to bring Rose into the starlight.
“Mar passed out from drink, and another servant came to investigate. Not knowing who could help, she woke Reggie. He was only twelve at the time, but he was already more of a laird than the misbegotten earl—even if Reggie could never stand up to his da. My brother managed to secrete my mother and me away from the house. He rowed us to Frest and knocked on my stepda’s door. He knew Sigurd hated the earl for ordering the sheep off Hamarray to turn the isle into game lands. My stepfather was also the only one on either island willing to stand up to Mar. Sigurd fell in love with my mum, and eventually she with him. It was a relationship born of necessity, but it made their feelings for each other no less real or strong.”
“No wonder you responded the way you did when Percy mentioned Astrid.” Hurt ripped through Rose, but with it came a greater understanding of Thorfinn. “I promise you that Percy is not his uncle. He is a shameful flirt, but he would never pressure any woman or take advantage of her situation in life. I wouldn’t allow him anywhere near Frest or Hamarray if that was the case.”
“I know that,” Thorfinn said, turning in her arms so that they faced each other now. “I just ... just couldn’t bloody well think. I was already uneasy at being in Muckle Skaill, and then the new duke popped up like a congealed ghost talking about Astrid, and I lost all reason. From how your friend was talking, it sounded to me like you’d decided that the plan for a retreat was a foregone fact, although looking back, I realize I’d foolishly jumped to conclusions.”
Rose cupped Thorfinn’s dear face as his reaction made painful sense to her. “I promise you that no definitive decision on the hotel has or will be made until the people of Frest finalize it. Just as importantly, you don’t have to ever come into this house if you don’t wish it. We can conduct estate business at your cottage.”
“I’m still the land agent, then?”
“I couldn’t find a better one, Thorfinn. Your devotion to these isles, these people—it ... it humbles me.”
“Your tough kindness humbles me, Rose.” Now it was he who framed her face.
The observation startled her. “Any toughness is mostly bravado, I’m afraid. And I am not known for my sentimentality.”
“That’s because you do not allow the people to witness the real you.”
His simple statement made her feel more vulnerable than any physical nakedness ever could. Rose responded as she always did when real emotion threatened. “And you think you’ve actually seen the authentic me, do you, buster?”
“I know that you have more heart in you than your two parents combined. The compassion you have, I doubt they taught it to you. In fact, I suspect they’re the reason you hide it. It’s clear that they have no clue what to do with the brightness inside you, Rose. I imagine that hurt, and it was easier to shut it off than show it. I know a thing or two about burying pain and sweeping over rejection.”
Tears Rose didn’t know she had in her smarted the backs of her eyes. How had he detected the loneliness when no one ever had? She’d thought that she never wanted anyone to realize the emptiness in her ... or maybe she’d really been waiting for someone to acknowledge it, to acknowledgeher.
“You do know I’m considered terribly spoiled.”
To Rose’s surprise, he pretended to sniff her. “Nay. You don’t seem rotten to me. In fact, you seem just about perfect.”
