“What happened?”
“My father sent for a specialist who concluded that I…” Her gaze skittered away, and she took another drink. The tips of her ears turned pink. “He said I was feebleminded and morally deficient. I needed to be removed from the home for my own benefit and the safety of others. At least that’s what I was told later.”
He swallowed a thousand curses, battled back the sudden, burning urge to hit something,anything. “You arenot—”
“Fourteen minus ten,” she cut in. “That’s what she’d been asking. Not forty.Fourteen. I’d been wrong all along. It took me years to figure that out.”
“You didn’t hear her correctly.” And for that she had been labeled feebleminded. It was grossly unjust.
“I often don’t hear things properly. I confuse words that sound similar. Occasionally some words, or even whole sentences, sound entirely nonsensical to me, and I can’t understand what’s being said no matter how many times it’s repeated. There are times noises seem too loud, even small ones like a bee in a window, or the breeze in the pines. When that happens I can’t hear anything else. I can’t even think about anything else. Loud noise is even worse. And sometimes—”
He took her free hand and gently unwound the stiff fingers from her skirts. She was breathing too fast again, her agitation all but palpable. “You don’t have to tell me everything at once.”
“I think it might be easier if I do.”
He brushed his thumb along her knuckles. “All right. But before you continue, let me be clear about something.” Bringing her hand to his lips, he pressed a kiss to her palm. “Nothing you’ve told me leads me to believe you are now, or have ever been, mad, feebleminded, or morally deficient.”
Her father, on the other hand, had obviously been all three. And a bastard to boot. Who could do that to his own child? Any child? Who could do that toJane?
She gave him a look that somehow managed to be both sheepish and angry. “We have had entire conversations in which I’ve had no idea what you were saying.”
That gave him pause. “Entire conversations?”
“Maybe not entire,” she admitted. “But parts. Important parts. I don’t remember telling you I can’t ride. When you asked I must not have understood, so I just…pretended otherwise.”
“Ah. So your mind hasn’t been wandering to a lost husband or a dead man in your garden.” Her lips trembled briefly at the small joke. It wasn’t much, but he’d take it. “Is that what happened today? Is that why you went to the tavern? You didn’t hear me?”
“Not exactly. I did hear you, and I understood what you were saying at the time. It’s just…” She winced, and her voice grew soft again. “It was so loud downstairs and… Sometimes I concentrate so hard on hearing and understanding what’s being said that I…I forget to remember it. I know that sounds mad, but—”
He squeezed her hand. “You’re not mad.”
“I couldn’t remember if you’d said the first door on the second floor or the second door on the first floor. I listened, but I wasn’t sure afterward. I tried to ask a man in the tavern to show me to my room, but then he asked me something in return that I couldn’t understand, and everything just sort of spun out of control. If I had just written it down, or even repeated it once or twice to help me remember, everything would have been fine, but—”
“It’s all right.”
“It’s not. It’s…” She let out a short breath, finished the last of her drink and set the empty glass on the mattress beside her. “Earlier, at Twillins, you said I should relocate somewhere I wasn’t welcome. Thatanimosity was liberating?”
“I’m certain I didn’t.”
“Well, of course you didn’t,” she said, throwing up a hand. “That’s the point. But it’s what I heard. Animosity. I don’t know what you meant by that.”
“I don’t either. I… Oh, yes. I remember.Anonymity can be liberating.” He shook his head. “I don’t know about the welcomed bit.”
She closed her eyes and sighed again. “Anonymity. That makes more sense.”
“If you didn’t understand me, why not ask me to repeat myself?”
“Because repeating the same thing doesn’t help me to hear it. I did try, you’ll recall. All I heard was animosity.”
“But you heard me correctly now.”
“Yes. But not the first two times.” She pressed the heel of her hand against one eye. “What sort of idiot needs the same word repeated three times?”
He captured her wrist and brought it down. “You’re not an idiot.”
“No, I’m not, but it is difficult to convince others of that when I respond inappropriately, or not at all, or ask them to repeat the same thing over and over again. And I still get it wrong.”
“That’s why you stay away from the village.”
She nodded and looked away. “I tried to visit a few times. It didn’t go well, and then I felt so guilty because I’d broken my promise to Edgar to stay away from Ardbaile.”
“Hang Edgar.”
Her gaze snapped back to him. “What?”
“I said…” He paused as realization dawned on him. “It helps you to watch me speak, doesn’t it?”That was why she stared so intently. When she nodded, he gave her a rueful smile. “You’ve dealt my vanity a significant blow.”
“Yes, well, imagine how mine feels at the moment,” she muttered.
Hecould imagine it, and it squeezed his heart tight. “Can I say it now?”
“Say what?”
“That I know you.” He released her hands and took her by the shoulders, turning her to face him fully. “I know you, Jane. I know you to be a clever, loyal, loving, kind, and courageous woman. I know you are neither mad nor dimwitted. I knew all of that ten minutes ago, and I know all of that now.”
She studied him for a long time, her expression both hopeful and suspicious. He let her look her fill, willing her to see the truth.
“I think you mean that,” she said softly.
“Of course I mean it.”
“I hope so, because—” Her throat worked in a difficult swallow. “The reason I didn’t want to come into Lansville is… There was an asylum here once, just outside of town. Brackmer’s. That’s where the specialist…”
“Your father sent you to anasylum?” He’d assumed Jane had been exiled to the coast, not locked away in a bloody asylum. He brought her closer and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I’m sorry.” God, how insufficient that word was. How ineffectual. And still he couldn’t stop himself from offering it. He moved his lips to her brow, kissed her again. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s closed now,” she said, as if that somehow made it better. “It could have been worse. I’ve heard of far worse places than Brackmer’s. And I think, in their way, they were trying to help.” She shook her head. “They didn’t, of course. It was the Harmons who really helped me.”
“Will you tell me about it?”
“Have you ever taken the water cure?”
“No, but I understand that if it’s properly done, it can alleviate a great many ills.”
“Is there a proper way to douse a terrified child with ice water? Or wrap her in freezing, wet sheets and tie her to a bed, or—”
“No,” he said quickly. “None.” And the thought of Jane young, afraid, and hurting turned his stomach. “I’m sorry.”
She took a shaky breath and shook her head. “It wasn’t all bad. It was usually only in the mornings for me. I was almost always locked back in my room before eleven.”
“And then what?”
“And then I ate, if I was still hungry. The staff left food in my room for the day. Books, too, if I’d behaved. Despite my trouble with words, I do like to read.”
“You stayed in the room all day?”
“It was certainly better than the alternative.”
“Did you not have any company?” He brushed his thumb along the very edge of her hairline. “Staff? Other residents?”
“No. We
weren’t allowed to fraternize. I could hear the other girls sometimes. When they were being taken for the cure. And I could always tell when a new girl came in. They fought the hardest.”
She said it with both sympathy and the cold, deadened air of a veteran. And suddenly he remembered how long Jane had been away at the coast for her health. Surely she hadn’t been at the asylum that whole time.
“How long were you there, Jane?”
Don’t say it. Don’t say it.
“Two years. More or less.”
More or less. As if an extra week hardly signified. As if every single day, every single minute wouldn’t have been an eternity. As if it didn’t matter.
It mattered. Gabriel remembered from his research exactly how long Jane had been away at the coast. “Two years, four months.”
Her brows lifted. “And two weeks, two days. And it was half past noon when Edgar came to fetch me. How did you know?”
“I looked into your past some, remember? That’s how long you were gone from Fourgate Hall for your health.” He hadn’t been aware of the exact weeks and days, however.
He was no longer confused as to why she’d become a recluse. He was amazed she was willing to step a foot out of her door. She’d spent two years afraid to leave a room, and seventeen more afraid to leave her home lest she be sent back to that same room.
At least in that, he could help.
“You’re not going back. I promise you.” He couldn’t go back and rescue a frightened, lonely, and abandoned child. Nor beat the men responsible for it into the ground. But he could do this for her. He could give her the security she’d been denied for far too long.
“You can’t promise that. It’s not under your—”
“I can,” he said firmly. “I’mtheSir Gabriel Arkwright.” He waited for the reminder, and the implications, to sink in. “I have influence that men like your father and his specialist couldn’t begin to imagine. So long as I live and breathe, you will not step foot in an asylum, or any variation of such an institution, ever again. And so long as I am still living and breathing, I’ll see to it you’re protected after I’m gone. You willnever go back.”
Her breathing quickened as she stared at him unblinking. “You promise?”
“I swear it.”
He felt a tremor go through her, and her lips trembled. “Never?”
“Never.”
“But what if I—”
“Never. No, please don’t cry.”
Still trembling, her mouth curved up at the corners. “Will you sign a contract stipulating your intentions and provide—”
Her laughter blended with his own, echoing in the small room.
“I’ll sign as many as you like,” he offered. In fact, he quite liked the idea of it. Trust was all well and good, but nothing stole fear away like the luxury of certainty. He brushed the backs of his fingers along her cheek. “I don’t think I could deny you anything, Jane Ballenger.”
A pretty blush crept over her skin, right under his fingers. “It feels strange to have told you this. I thought I would always keep that secret from everyone but the Harmons. I assumed I would simply hide or lie to everyone else for the rest of my life.”
God, he hated the thought of that, hated that she’d been forced to live with the deceit for so many years. He knew what that felt like. “Lies like that, old lies, they’ll eat at you over time.”
“It doesn’t have to now.” She lifted a hand and brushed the tips of her fingers along his jaw. “Because of you.”
The atmosphere shifted in the room, or maybe it just seemed that way to him. Her fingers were soft and warm, barely a whisper against his skin. But he felt the touch everywhere.
She leaned closer, her intention clear.
He held still, even as he told himself to pull away; he didn’t move a muscle except to say, “Jane, I promised not to—”
“I didn’t,” she whispered and pressed her lips to his.
He let himself sink into the kiss, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close.
It was sweet. Sweeter than any kiss he could remember ever sharing with a woman, even in his youth. He explored her mouth with gentle sweeps and brushes. He tasted her with slow, indulgent strokes of his tongue. Her arms twined around his neck, and he let himself enjoy the simple pleasure of holding Jane close, feeling the soft weight of her arms resting on his shoulders.
He kissed her the way he wished he had on the train. The way he should have in the stable. He kissed her without artifice or guile, without holding any part of himself back or pushing either of them for more.
It was a kiss for the sake of a kiss. Romance for the sake of romance. It was tender and selfless and genuine. It was perfection. From the second Jane touched his cheek to the moment he gently pulled away, it was the most perfect kiss he’d ever known.
“That should have been the one,” he whispered.
Her lids lifted slowly. “The one?”
“Your first kiss. That should have been it. I’m sorry it wasn’t.”
She made a noncommittal noise at the back of her throat, and her amber eyes dipped to his mouth. “Gabriel?”
“Hmm?”
She looked up at him again with a new, determined glint in her amber eyes. “I release you from your promise not to seduce me.”
***
Jane felt Gabriel stiffen against her. She might have taken offense at that if his arms hadn’t tightened around her at the same time.
She knew her decision might seem rash to him. And maybe it was. Maybe she was being reckless and foolish, setting herself up for terrible heartache down the road. But at that moment, she couldn’t bring herself to care. She never got to be reckless and foolish. She was always cautious, always careful, always afraid. She had denied herself both risk and its promised rewards for far too long, had been reconciled to a life half-lived for too many years.
Today, she would live fully. She would throw caution to the wind and do exactly as she pleased. Because she could.
And just then, nothing would please her more than to stay in Gabriel’s arms.
Gabriel lightly cleared his throat. “I beg your pardon?”
“I don’t want it. Your promise. I’m sorry I asked for it. Initially, I thought that once everything was done, if I had the opportunity, I might try my hand at it. Seduction, that is.” Well, she’d indulged in a brief fantasy or two, but that was essentially the same thing. “And then I realized how foolish that would be—”
“I strenuously disagree.”
“But why ask an amateur when there’s a master on hand?”
“Master of seduction?” He laughed softly. “Is that what I am?”
“That’s what they say.”
“They being the papers a decade ago?”
“Well, yes,” she conceded. “I suppose the information is a bit out of date.” She hadn’t really thought about that. “If you’re out of practice…”
“I still manage to muddle my way through.”
Excellent. Battling back nerves, she gathered her courage and pressed a little closer. “Will you show me?”
He shook his head. “I can’t, Jane. I promised.”
“But I released you from that promise.”
“It doesn’t matter.” One hand left her waist and settled at the back of her head. “You’re under my care.”
“And that would change if we…?” Her eyes flicked to the pillows on the bed.
“No. I swear to you, no.”
“Then I fail to see the problem.”
He bent his head toward her protectively. “You’re not in a position to say no.”
“That’s not true.” She leaned in closer, narrowing the distance between them. “I would say no if I wanted to.”
“Then I’m not in a position to say yes.”
“Then I’ll say it for you.Yes.” She took his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his. “Gabriel, please. Say yes.”
And say it now, she thought, when she w
as feeling brave—freed by his promise that she would never return to the asylum, and emboldened by the knowledge that there were no more lies, no more secrets standing between them.
When he didn’t immediately respond, she wondered if she would be forced to make a stab at seduction after all. She hoped not. Her notions of what constituted seduction were vague at best. Her brief imaginings had involved nebulous images of music, dancing, a pretty dress, and candlelight. She may have batted her eyelashes and giggled behind a fan.
In retrospect, it seemed a little unrealistic.
She opened her mouth to ask once more, but he spoke before she could.
“There’s no great mystery to seduction,” he said softly, his voice a little rough. “All one needs is a little time, patience, some experience, and, most important, an understanding of one’s partner.”
“What sort of understanding?”
“Her likes and dislikes. Different people find pleasure in different things. For example…” He leaned down and softly touched his lips to the corner of her mouth. “Did you like that?”
“Yes,” she breathed. “Very much.”
“And this?” He brushed the tip of his tongue ever so lightly over her bottom lip.
She shivered from head to foot. “Yes.”
His lips curved up in a slow, and decidedly seductive, smile. He took her wrist, brought her arm up, and pressed a kiss on the inside of her elbow. “And that?”
She considered it. “Not as much, no.”
“Fair enough.” She felt the rumble of laughter in his chest a second before he dipped his head and found the crook of her neck. “How about this?”
“Oh, yes.”Definitely, yes.
And so began Gabriel’s long, slow, and thorough exploration of Jane’s preferences. He kissed her everywhere, slowly and lightly, cataloguing her reactions one inch of skin at a time. His lips found her jaw, her ear, her shoulders. He tasted her bottom lip, her top lip, the corner of her mouth. His mouth brushed against each cheekbone, found a sensitive spot at her collarbone, another on the inside of her wrist.
A Dangerous Deceit (Thief-Takers) Page 24