“My father was not a... good man. He was not good to me, nor to her. When he died, we left, set up here in London. I promised to take care of her, so that she would never have to endure a life like that ever again.”
“It’s amazing how you tell a story with absolutely no particulars,” Prudence teased.
When Leo’s gaze flicked up at her, his eyes were nothing but steel. “There are things I will not share with anyone. Anyone, Prudence. Not you. Not anyone.”
It felt a bit like a slap. She’d shared so much of her past. Why would he not share his? Other than what was clearly a horrible situation. Leo intimated some kind of horridness, but that was tragically not uncommon. There must have been something more to it. But she willed her mind to stop picking apart the puzzle that was Leo Moon. It wasn’t her place. It wasn’t what she wanted from him anyway. There was no point. So she put her curiosity aside.
“Fine, if you won’t talk about your mother, how about your schoolmates? Tell me something specific. A recounting of something not sordid, so that I cannot pity your upbringing as you have pitied mine.”
His expression softened. “Fine.” He was quiet, then looked around the room, as if he might find something hidden up in a corner.
“Having trouble thinking of something?”
“Frankly, yes. None of my stories that are happy cast me in a terribly respectable light. Most of them entail swindling my betters. Of course, my motivation was retribution for beatings they’d given me years before.”
“Ah. So you hold a grudge, do you?”
“Tragically, yes. It might be what I do best, actually.” He leaned forward, bracing himself on his knees. “I know it isn’t my place, and despite your protest, I will always hold a grudge against your husband, even though he is dead and cannot defend himself. You were too young to know what you needed, and he clearly didn’t let you learn how to be you. He only continued what you had already known: how to care for others. How to be of service. And I cannot forgive him that.”
She hadn’t thought of it in that way before. That she had existed in service to others. It had been her obligation, her joy, to take care of her family and then her husband. It had never occurred to her to protest or see inequity there. There had simply been a need, and she filled it. Yes, it had been at the expense of herself, but now she’d gotten the chance to do what she wanted. And look at what she was doing! She had a lover and a plan to climb the Matterhorn! How could she complain? “He got me to where I am today. So I will always be grateful to him.”
Leo looked up. “Yougot you to where you are today. The American war bankrupted most everyone. Yet, you came through smelling like a rose. That was you. You did that.”
“With his name and his money,” she amended.
“His name only mattered because men are twats.”
Her laughter rang out like a burst bubble. “I’ve never heard you speak like that.”
He shrugged, another layer of armor shedding. “I’m not wrong.”
She shook her head. “No, you’re not wrong at all.”
He put down his glass and rose, finding a new seat on her couch beside her. “I want you to know that I admire you, and not just desire you.”
“That rhymes, so you know it’s true.”
Leo chuckled and played with one of the tendrils of hair she’d so carefully curled earlier that evening. “I hope you feel the same about me.”
“I do.” Her mind went fuzzy. His nearness triggered some kind of drug in her body, and she felt the sensation flood her entire body. She was almost drowsy with desire.
He smiled at her, a real one, not a polite grimace. “Good.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it. Then turned her hand over, palm up, and kissed the sensitive spot on the inside of her wrist.
The fire that was already ignited between her legs surged. She swallowed hard. “I’m glad we talked,” she managed.
“May I kiss you now?” he asked.
She nodded, and he began slowly, as if playing with her. But she wasn’t in the mood for playing. The anticipation for this had been too stressful, the need now too big. He moved to her neck, as he’d done the day before. “I have a French letter,” she whispered.
“Excellent,” he said between kisses. “I didn’t want to be presumptuous.”
“I invited you to my private suite at night, after a discussion of becoming lovers. After what happened yesterday at your office, how could you not presume this?”
“You talk too much,” he said, taking her mouth with his.
She didn’t mind at all.
*
