Such a tempting invitation. The most tempting invitation she had ever received, in fact.
“I wish I could.” Mirabel cupped his cheek, savoring their closeness, tucking these moments into her heart so she could remember them. She loved the dark prickle of whiskers on his sharp jaw and his warmth. “How I wish I could.”
He turned his head on the pillow, pressing a kiss to the center of her palm. “But you have your children. They would miss their mother, I expect.”
“I would miss them as well.”
“Will you tell me about them?”
His request took her by surprise and made the ice her previous husband had cast around her heart melt further. “What would you like to know?”
“Anything you want to tell me. They are a part of you, Mira. I find myself longing to know everything there is to know about every part of you.” He smiled tenderly, then caught her hand in his and pressed a kiss to the tips of her fingers, stroking them with his thumb.
“There is Percy,” she began. “He is the eldest and the most like me, I suppose. He is quiet and sometimes burdened with a sense of duty, but he loves to paint and sketch, and I have encouraged his talents. His father would not have approved.”
“Why not?”
“According to St—my husband, his heir would have no need to embrace his talents. Indeed, he quite ruthlessly suppressed any interests in our sons which did not align with his notion of what proper young lords should know and do. He wanted them to ride, hunt, and know their Latin. That was all.”
“I spent my youth learning the family trade of robbing fancy gents and swindling ladies,” Damian said, his tone bitter and wry. “Hell of a difference.”
The reminder of the vast disparities in their classes settled in her heart like a barb. “Did your mother not keep you from the streets?”
“My mother tossed me into them.” He kissed her inner wrist. “From the time I was old enough to walk, she used me as part of her game. She’d distract her victim, and I’d filch a purse or anything I could. It was the only talent that made me worth filling my belly and keeping me under her roof.”
“Oh, Damian.” How she ached for him, to have been so ill-treated by his own mother, the woman who should have been protecting him. “I am sorry.”
“Don’t be, love.” He kissed the top of her hand. “I learned a great many lessons from my mother, and when I was old enough to leave, I took those lessons and the coin I’d been hiding from her, and I ran. Now tell me about the rest of your family. I fancy the notion of a mother who cares for her children. It makes me happy to hear the love in your voice when you speak of them.”
And it saddened her to think he had never heard that same love in the voice of his own mother. That he had been treated as a burden and made to steal on behalf of her. He was a prideful man, however, and she knew he would not appreciate her pity.
“There is also Joanna,” she said, continuing with her children by age. “She loves to read, and she is quite intrepid. She has my penchant for adventure, which is often a source of consternation for me. One of her recent scrapes involved falling out of a tree she had been climbing in the gardens. Gideon is the youngest and the most inquisitive. He is inordinately fond of birds. He also acquired a rather unusual bit of speech from your young Master Davy.”
That was putting it politely.
Damian grimaced. “My apologies. However, you did insist on taking the lad into your home.”
Indeed, she had.
“And so suffer my reward.” She smiled. “Actually, I like the scamp.”
“As do I,” he admitted. “I see myself in him, when I was a lad that age.”
“You have a good heart, Damian Winter,” she said softly.
His countenance grew serious and intent. “If you keep looking at me that way, I’m going to have to roll you to your back and make love to you again.”
She refused to look away. If this was to be their last night, she was going to be greedy. She did not want to waste a second of it.
“Do you promise?”
He grinned and rolled them as one until she was on her back and he was settled atop her, between her thighs. “I most certainly do.”
* * *
They are a part of you,Mira.
Damian’s words haunted her the entirety of her journey back to Tarlington House. He had asked after her children. By the time she reached the imposing façade, her cheeks were wet with tears.
