“It's not like you to be so noisy, Barrett. I did not ask for your company. I wished to be alone.”
Sebastian moved out into the open. “I'm not Barrett.”
Her stiffened spine was the only sign he’d surprised her. “What do you want?”
“You.”
She scoffed. “Well, I don’t want you.”
He sidled up next to her. “No?” he said softly. He took her hand. For once it was gloveless. He ran his fingertip lightly over the newly scabbed wound. He lifted it to his lips. “I’m sure you’ve wondered on occasion why I’m so…”
“Domineering? Overly cautious? Driven to perfection?”
“As horrid as that, am I?” He lowered her hand but retained possession. At least this way, she couldn’t affect one of her timely exits. He looked out over the churning water. “I was twelve when my friend fell from the rooftop at school.”
Rebecca’s gasp barely registered. “How did he fall?”
“We were on the battlement, exactly where we were explicitly told not to go.”
“You couldn’t keep him from going and you followed, didn’t you? I knew it. Even at the age of twelve, you acted the hero.”
“Quite perceptive of you.” He smiled a grim smile and breathed the salt air in deeply. “Not quite. A dare was issued.”
“Ah, I see. It was a matter of honor.”
“Yes. The dare was to go up and not get caught by the headmaster. Only Damian Bellamy took a notion to walk on the edge and fell to his death.” Squeezing his eyes tight did not keep the image of Damian’s broken body out.
“How terrible for you,” she said softly.
But she hadn’t heard the worst of it.
“I was devastated, of course. My father was sent for. Not a single word was uttered the entire ride home to Dorchester.” He swallowed hard. “I was sent to my chamber. My sisters were not allowed to visit me. There were only two at that time: Rose and Claire.”
“They kept your siblings from you? As punishment?” Her hand turned up and was clutching his.
“When my father finally sent for me, my mother was there, crying into her handkerchief. Just quiet tears of disappointment. They blamed me, and rightly so—”
“That’s not true. They had no right to blame you. Damian Bellamy was responsible for his own actions. Just like Gabby was responsible for hers.” She spoke firmly. Earnestly. Harshly enough to jar his attention from the past. “We cannot control the actions of others, Sebastian.” She’d turned, facing him, and was gripping his hands with both of hers. “It was not your fault. I suspect you couldn’t keep him from the dare and wanted to keep him safe.”
Sebastian dragged his gaze from the water. Despite her shadowed features, her voice was fierce
This is what came over her when those she vowed to protect went up against much stronger forces. In that instant, she was seeing him as the child he’d been: one less powerful than his father. A ruthless father to use Sebastian’s sisters and others he cared for as punishment. Rebecca would see it that way, when she hadn’t any of her own. This was an egregious crime in her eyes.
“Oh, Sebastian.”
“Am I so unfixable, Lady Rebecca?”
Bitter laughter erupted from her as she removed her hands from him and turned her own gaze out to sea. “About as unfixable as me,” she said.
“That’s not possible.” He wanted nothing more than to take her back into his arms. Go back to that night in the inn when he’d taken her in every way but the traditional one.
“I’m much like you, I fear.”
“Controlling, perhaps. Overly cautious? Not in the least. I would call it daring and impulsive. Perhaps driven to fits, but not to perfection. You are driven to protecting those who need your strength.” He wanted to take her hand, but he restrained himself. “Were you always that way? I heard you talking to Percy—Owen.”
The tension around her mouth eased. She was smiling, inside he believed. “You heard me telling him about Miss Velinda?”
“That’s right. That was her name. Miss Velinda.”
