She peered up at him. “Sometimes ... ?”
“I take men there and teach them a lesson.”
The cold ice left his face as she sat back on her heels. “What sort of lesson?”
“Things that belong to me are not to be abused.”
Her brow furrowed. “What sort of things?”
Why had he started down this path? Perhaps because he needed her to know some of the worst things about him, so she wouldn’t care whether he’d eaten or was hungry or had a bruise forming on his cheek. He didn’t want to fall into the allure of being tended. “The women who work for me—some do so on their back. Their choice,” he added quickly. “They plied their trade on the streets, but in my place they have it better. They’re clean, the rooms are clean, the customers who visit them are clean. But from time to time those gents can forget where they are and get a bit rough. When they hurt one of the girls, I hurt them back.”
She blinked. “You personally?”
“Yes, me personally. There’s nothing more frightening than facing a man who doesn’t give a bloody damn.”
Something soft touched her eyes. It made him want to squirm. He despised discussing any aspect of his life. He shouldn’t have come in here to look in on her.
“You told me that you would make Geoffrey regret the manner in which he’d treated me. Are you going to do it in that room?” she asked.
“No, I have something else in mind for him.”
“What precisely?”
“I haven’t worked out all the particulars yet. I’ll let you know when I do.” Rafe had long ago learned that the best revenge didn’t involve physical pain. Hurts healed. The memory of agony diminished over time. Better to arrange something that was a constant reminder of failings or misjudgments.
“Thank you for that, for seeing that Geoffrey will have regrets.”
The gratitude in her eyes almost had him asking her to make him promise her something else. No one had ever looked at him like that. He was accustomed to instilling fear, but for the first time in his life, he thought there might be something stronger than fear. He wasn’t certain what it was, but it scared the bloody hell out of him.
Rising back to her knees, she carefully placed the ice enfolded in the cloth on his darkening bruise, and her nearness distracted him from his irritation. Her breast rested firmly against his upper arm now, and he could feel the taut nipple through her nightdress, through his sleeve. He wanted to circle his tongue around it, once, twice, then over—
“I should like to visit your gambling establishment sometime.” Her voice seemed raspier. Did her thoughts travel in the same direction as his? He doubted she was even aware of the liberties a man would take with a body such as hers.
He scoffed. “Ladies are not allowed inside.”
“But then I’m not a lady, am I?” She held his gaze with a challenge. He wanted to deny her words, but he couldn’t.
“You wouldn’t much like it. It’s mostly black and green. There’s always a smoky haze. It smells of rich tobacco, fine liquor, and finer women.”
“Still, I should like to see where you spend so much of your time.”
Before she’d entered his life, he’d spent all his time there.
She set the cloth aside, and with a featherlike touch moved his hair back. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d known a caress that was as light as a cloud. Yet even for its faintness, it was powerful.
“I wish he hadn’t hurt you,” she said.
“I’ve known worse.”
Her eyes shifted over to his. “Yes, I presume you have. You live in a very rough world. Do you ever think of leaving it?”
“It’s where I belong.”
“But you’re the son of a duke.”
“If he were alive, he’d disown me.” Never mind that if he were alive Rafe would have never been in a position to do the things he’d done.
“I suspect my father would do the same, knowing the decision I made to stay here. Although I suppose in truth, he never really owned me.”
