Love's Revenge (Entangled Scandalous) by Joan Avery Page B

spoken it too softly for him to hear, but his body tensed slightly. He turned slowly, exhaling the smoke of the cheroot in a tiny wisp that found her hiding place.
    “I’m sorry.” Her apology barely rose above the sound of the train.
    “For what?” The hint of a smile softened his features.
    “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
    “You didn’t.” She was embarrassed not to have acknowledged her presence when he first came outside. She stepped forward and steadied herself with the iron railing. “It’s beautiful here tonight.”
    “Yes, it is. It’s even more beautiful in Colorado.”
    She didn’t want to look at him, not standing this close. She didn’t know why exactly. She only knew that it was dangerous. She looked up at the stars.
    She sought a safe avenue of conversation. “How long did you say you’ve been here? I mean in the States?”
    As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she realized that her bluntness might not be appreciated, but he did not flinch. “I’ve been in the States over ten years now. Most of that time in Colorado.”
    “Do you ever think you’ll go back to England?”
    His soft laughter surprised her. “Since my father’s death, my brother has offered it. But in truth, I don’t think my brother would be at all pleased to see me on his doorstep. His remittance checks assure me of it.”
    Her heart sank. A Remittance Man . How could she keep forgetting that he was paid to stay away from his family?
    He must have seen something in her face, for he frowned. “You need not worry about losing Andy to England. I have no desire to return there. I have made my life here.”
    “A life paid for by an older brother to keep you away?”
    His features grew hard and cold.
    “My life is paid for by me and my work, as my son’s will be.”
    “I didn’t mean to imply...”
    “Don’t lie, Katherine, it is most unbecoming.”
    It was she who was angry now. “Why did you leave England?”
    “Ah, the questions become thornier. You want to know what I did that got me expelled by my family and country? Exiled to the wilds of America?”
    “Yes. You want me to give you Andy. I have a right to know.” She was exasperated by his verbal sparring. She wanted answers—needed answers.
    He didn’t speak immediately. He studied her and she felt awash in his dark eyes. Half of her wanted to turn away from their penetrating intensity, and the other half wished to drown in them.
    “Do you really care what happened in England?” he asked.
    “Yes.” And suddenly she did.
    He studied the moonlight as it caught the ever-lengthening tracks.
    “My father once beat a horse to death. I was fourteen at the time. It horrified me. He was an old world aristocrat who treated his possessions with equal disdain. It was all too apparent that he saw his wife, my mother, as another possession.
    “I was twenty, fresh out of university. A good job in London awaited me. It was spring. There was a gentle rain. I remember how the earth smelled. So full of potential life and growth. I had gone to a ball and returned late. The house was quiet. I had made a habit of checking on my mother in her room every night to make sure my father hadn’t beaten her that day. My father knew this and his beatings had become less frequent. But he had already broken her. Broken her body and her gentle spirit. God, how I despised him.”
    He ran an elegant hand through his black hair and shook his head as if the memory was causing him physical pain. The muscles in his jaw tensed.
    She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. She waited.
    “My mother lay in a pool of blood. Her skin, drained of life, was so pale she looked like a ghost asleep on the bloodstained bed. Only the bruises he had inflicted marred her beauty and her serenity—the bruises and the gashes on her wrists that had allowed her to finally escape him.
    “I was stunned, sickened, outraged. I could think of nothing else but killing him. He had fled to the city to his