Page 12 of The Courtesan’s Protector (About An Earl #4)

CHAPTER 11

R ipley hadn’t intended to tell Jane about her role in the scar. The story revealed too much, and she was too clever not to understand just that. But the longer he spent with her, the more he entangled himself physically and emotionally in her life, the harder it was to contain the feelings that burned in him. And now that had caused this burst of honesty that made her eyes wide and almost fearful.

He cleared his throat. “You attended a fight of mine years ago. With Beast MacDougal.”

She blinked and he realized she didn’t recall it. Of course, that made sense. It wasn’t a pivotal moment of her life, it had just been another night out with some prick who used her.

“I-I do remember seeing you fight before we met,” she said slowly. Carefully, it seemed. As if she didn’t want to stumble into some trap he was laying for her. “I don’t know the other man’s name.”

“Did I bleed?” he asked.

She nodded. “He caught you with a hard punch and you did bleed. But you already had the scar by then, didn’t you? You were always known for the scar.”

She looked at it then and he reached up to trace it again out of habit. “No. I was distracted from the fight. He hit me just right to split my eyebrow. And this lovely mark is the result.”

At that moment, Mrs. Fergus returned with plates of fish and fried potato. She was talking and smiling and Jane did an admirable job of interacting even though her gaze kept flitting to his.

“I’ll stop by the table later to check in on you,” Mrs. Fergus said. “Oh, and Mr. Ripley, they’ve begun filling the tub in your chamber. It will be ready by the time you finish eating.”

She smiled and walked away. Jane stared at him full-on now. She didn’t touch her food. “What were you distracted by?” she asked as if they hadn’t been interrupted in their earlier conversation.

He reached for her hand again. “You.” Her nostrils flared and he continued, “We pivoted while grappling and something in the crowd caught my eye. The most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. I lost concentration for a moment and MacDougal was a wily one and caught me.”

To his surprise, her face crumpled. “I-I was the reason you were scarred.”

“It was my distraction and my fault,” he said. “And I rather like the scar. As you said, it’s become one of my distinguishing characteristics.”

She bent her head and focused on her food. She picked up her fork, but she only traced it over the fish and potatoes she’d been so excited to try only a few moments before. “Ripley,” she whispered.

He shrugged. “This can’t be a surprise, Jane. We don’t come from worlds where we mince our words, do we? It was obvious from the start that we were attracted to each other. You wanted me and I wanted you. There’s no shame in that.”

“Perhaps not,” she said. “But you are respectable now. You own a thriving club that men of power and rank trip over their own feet to join because it’s as important as their membership at White’s or the Donville Masquerade. You’ve built yourself a life. And I’m…I’m still…me.”

He hated how she diminished herself. She was as scarred as he was, just inside. “Don’t elevate me. We both made our living on our backs.”

“It isn’t the same. You know it. A boxer could be respected, as you were when you fought and are now.” She shook her head. “The woman you saw in my shop, the viscountess who called me out for what I was, she was only the first. She won’t be the last. I scarred you once, but I care too much to scar you again.”

He caught his breath. “Jane?—”

“Don’t,” she whispered, and tears sparkled in her eyes. She blinked at them, pushing them away just as he knew she’d been pushing them away all her life. “We’ll go to Copperworth. We’ll find my sister and then…then I think we need to stay away from each other.”

Ripley had experienced pain in his life. Broken bones, deep bruises. Once an opponent had tried to stab his heart and Ripley had caught the blade in his hand, slashing his palm deeply. But none of that hurt as much as Jane’s words, at the idea that she’d rather run from the connection that was so plain than risk what it could change.

But he’d always known that was the potential price of finally giving in to what he wanted. She would push if he pulled, just as she had any other time they’d even come close to this. She would run. Her life would make any other reaction difficult for her. And he’d have to honor her request. Honor her rejection even if it destroyed some vital part of him.

She shook her head at his silence. “I’m poison, Ripley.”

He wanted to scream at those words, but instead he took her hand. “I don’t think that’s your voice saying that.”

She sucked in a harsh breath. “I assume you mean it’s my mother. She’d know best, wouldn’t she? I’m just like her.” Before he could argue, she tugged her hand from his and stood. “I’m tired. I think I’ll go up, take that bath you’ve so kindly arranged. We’ve a long day tomorrow.”

If pulling away was in her nature, to fight was in his. He wanted to rise with her, argue with her in the middle of the dining hall, kiss her until she couldn’t pretend that this thing between them was anything but good.

And yet he did none of that. If he loved her, which he did, he needed to be more careful than a bull rushing through glass without thought. He’d learned to be strategic as a fighter. He would be strategic in this, as well.

“I understand,” he said softly.

She seemed surprised he would respect her request, but she nodded and then slipped away through the room. He watched her every step, his heart breaking. And he had no idea what to do next to prevent her from walking away from him for good.

* * *

J ane sat in the warm, fragrant waters of the tub, staring up at the ceiling. The sensations were lovely, but she couldn’t relax. Not when Ripley’s words echoed in her head. How he was hers since the first moment he’d seen her. How he was marked by her. He didn’t seem to care that the mark was in the form of a scar caused by injury. A permanent reminder of the damage she could cause.

She loved him. That had always been a fact she ignored, pushed away, pretended wasn’t real. Just as she’d pretended she didn’t know he loved her in return. Now it was impossible to ignore those facts. They were too close to turn away from. And they were problems she had to deal with because knowing they loved each other didn’t change what she’d said to him at supper. Everyone she’d ever loved, she’d hurt. Everyone who’d ever loved her had come to despise her.

She couldn’t bear it if he joined that small, terrible club.

“I’ll leave London.” She started because she hadn’t meant to say those words out loud. But they gave her strength and she sat up a bit straighter. “I’ll take Nora, because we must find Nora, and go to the country. I’ll start over. It will be better for Esme so she won’t try to continue being a friend to someone so far from herself. It will be better for Nora so she can be away from whatever happened to her. It will be better for…for Ripley.”

Hearing the words out loud, the falter in her voice when she said the last sentence, it made her sick. But it was right. She was right.

She heard the door open behind the privacy screen that protected the bath from the larger room and stiffened.

“It’s me,” Ripley said, his voice soft.

She heard him shift, heard the door close. His footfalls came across the room, certain and unwavering. She could see him move in her mind, an easy image after years of observation.

But he didn’t come around to look at her. Instead she heard him doing something in the larger room.

She cleared her throat. “It was kind to call out that it was you.”

“Well, I’d never want to frighten you.” There was a slight hesitation and then he added, “Or hurt you.”

She sighed. “I know. It’s the same for me.”

“May I come around?”

This man who had seen her naked, licked every inch of her body, asked her permission. No wonder she loved him, he was unlike anyone she’d ever encountered.

“Yes,” she whispered. How could she refuse, even if she already knew how this would end, that she would leave his life and eventually he would see the value in her being gone. But it wasn’t over yet, was it? Wasn’t there some way to hold it separate from the inevitable?

He came around the screen. He was so impossibly tall, even more so from her angle below him in the tub. And he was beautiful. She stared at his face in the firelight, memorizing all the angles of him, all the marks from his violent past, all the little expressions that made him the man he was.

“I want you to know that I’ll do whatever you like, Jane. I told you that before. You never have to tie my hands.”

She understood what he meant and her heart swelled with even more of the love which felt so powerful now that she could no longer deny it.

His breath was shaky as he added, “But I’d like to have this time with you. Please.”

She gripped the edge of the tub at the “please”. It seemed they both wanted the same thing, as was often true. She knew what the loss would feel like, she wanted the moments they had left.

Slowly she stood up, water dripping down her body like a waterfall. She knew exactly what she looked like and how he would react was equally easy to guess. His pupils dilated, he licked his lips like he was looking at a feast and he was starving.

He held out a hand and she took it, steadying herself as she stepped from the tub. Then he pulled her forward and flattened her wet body against his chest. He didn’t seem to care that she was soaking him as he bent his head and claimed her mouth.

For that moment she was his. And she forced herself to forget everything else as he gathered her up and carried her to the bed where he would claim her over and over for the rest of the night.