Page 26 of Brigand

“I’m so sorry.”

“Your father was a bastard.”

Violet could not respond. She knew it was the truth. Her fatherhad been—and died—a less than honorable man. She brushed the tears from hercheeks. She did it surreptitiously because she didn’t want him to notice.“Where did you go? Did you have family?”

“No one.” He stalked to the fire and checked the temperatureof the water in the bucket, swishing it with his fingers. “Her people tossedher out when she turned up pregnant with me. She never spoke of them. We nearlystarved that winter…” He broke off and stared into the flames. He recoveredhimself with a sharp shake of his head. He picked up the bucket, a sponge and acloth and knelt before her. “You don’t want to hear the rest of this story,Violet. And frankly, I’m weary of telling it.” He dipped the sponge into thebucket and picked up her foot, scrubbing harshly.

She allowed it. He needed something. Needed this.

By the time he’d finished the first and toweled it dry, hehad calmed, at least a bit. He was gentler with the other. When he finished hedropped the sponge in the bucket and started to stand but she forestalled himwith a palm to his cheek. He froze at her touch. Closed his eyes. Leaned intoit perhaps.

“I am so sorry, Ewan. But I swear to you, I never told.”

“Then how did he know?”

“I don’t know. Maybe someone saw us.”

She could tell by his reaction he had never considered thepossibility. Granted, they’d been in the woods, in a shadowy copse. But theycould have been seen. It broke her heart he’d simply assumed she had been sosilly, so feckless. That she’d blabbed about something as sweet and sacred asthat kiss had been to her.

“I’ve never told a soul.”

“No one?”

“No one.”

Their gazes tangled. “I blamed you.” His voice broke. “Iblamed you for years.”

She straightened his hair, fixing the damage he had wrought.“It’s all right.”

“No. It’s not. I should have known.”

She silenced him with a finger to his lips. “It’s done. Letit go.”

Let it go.

Something he had not been able to do for sixteen years. Theprospect of releasing this burden, being free of its weight, tantalized him.

She tantalized him.

God. He wanted her.

He shouldn’t kiss her now. Even though she stroked his cheekin an enticing caress. Even though she looked at him as though she was willingto forgive him all. Even though her pink tongue darted out to dab at rosy lips.

He was betrothed to Kaitlin.

He was supposed to marry Kaitlin. He needed to marryKaitlin. To buy the cachet, the entrée into the ton he needed tosecure Sophia’s future.

Seducing his bride’s best friend was hardly good form.

He shouldn’t kiss her…

He rose up on his knees and leaned into her. Wrapped hisarms around her and tugged her closer. Her eyes flared. A light he knew welland coveted. Adoration, trust, arousal.

He shouldn’t kiss her. He shouldn’t…

But she kissed him. She dipped her head and brushed hersoft, sweet lips over his, suckling, nibbling his lower lip, enflaming him. Andhe was lost.

He yanked her fully into his arms and seated his palm at theback of her head and sealed his mouth on hers. He twisted to the side, pullingher from the chair and settling her on the thick Aubusson carpet before thefire.