Her face flamed at his words. She tried to formulate an apology for her wanton behavior the night before but could not. She wasn’t sorry for the attempt, only for the results of it.
“I—I had a nightmare. I wanted comfort.”
“I’m honored you think of me that way. I’m honored you wanted to make love to me.”
Her face and neck got hotter than she believed possible.They must be flaming red.She studied the pleasant little watercolor of the valley behind him, unable to meet his eyes.
“But I don’t think that’s why you came,” he said.
Her attention flew back to his face. “It is exactly why.”
“I think you came to prove something to yourself.”
Her mouth opened and closed while her heart beat a rapid tattoo in her throat.
“Were you using me, Maddy?” he asked, reaching out to gently touch her cheek and keep her vision on him.
“Oh God, Brynn, no. Never that.”
“I think you better tell me all of it. Tell me about Glenmoor—the rotter who was your husband. You told me you weren’t quite seventeen and he wasn’t your choice. You agreed in order to escape this mausoleum.”
“It didn’t matter. They’d have forced me in the end. I didn’t expect to find someone as cruel and cutting as my mother, however.”
“Did he beat you?”
She shook her head. “Not often. Not severely. The occasional smack.”
His black expression darkened. “Tell me about the marriage bed,” he growled, his voice harsh.
“I can’t talk about that! Not to anyone.”
*
“I’m not justanyone, Maddy. After last night, I think I’m entitled to ask. I already know you shrink from intimacy. Did he ignore your needs and force himself on you?”
Her silent horror spoke volumes. Instinct drove Brynn to press the issue. She had been young and innocent. Worse, like most young women, she had been ignorant. She didn’t even know what she ought to have demanded or defended. Ignorance could destroy.
He cupped her elbow and urged her to a chair, tipping another so he could sit facing her. “Start at the beginning. Did you share a room?”
She shook her head.
“Did he ask if he might come to yours?”
She choked on a laugh. “Randolph asked for nothing. He took. In my room. Whenever. Wherever.”
Brynn cringed at the visions she engendered. He reminded himself she had used the letter as blackmail to escape the animal’s attention and chose his next words carefully. “How did he prepare you?”
She blinked at him. “I don’t understand.”
“Did you cuddle? Did you kiss?”
Again, the bitter laugh. “Never. That’s one blessing. I couldn’t bear his touch.”
“But you welcome mine. How do you feel when we cuddle? When we kiss? When I touch you?”
“I—I like it. I feel safe, and good. Not like…”
“What else do you feel?” he asked.
