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No. Asa decided. He’d be riding out to kill the son of a bitch who’d put the marks on her back, but he couldn’t put her father in the ground twice. “I’m sorry. Seeing that my wife has been savagely beaten has a way of taking the starch out of me.” The skin beneath his hands was icy and riddled with goosebumps. “You’re cold.”

“I didn’t wear my robe.”

“You’d best come to bed, then, so we can warm you up.”

He scooped her into his arms. She was still stiff as a board, but she wasn’t fighting. He looked at the four-poster. “Was this your father’s room?”

“Yes.”

He spun on his heel and headed out the door. Once in the hall, he kicked open the door to her room. He placed her on the bed. While she stared at him with those big green eyes, he pulled the comforter over her shoulders and struggled with his anger. Lord, he’d suspected her father had been mean, but he’d never suspected this. He scooted her over with a push of his hip.

“You’re naked!” she exclaimed as he slid under the covers beside her.

“Uh-huh.” He guessed that would be a bit of a shock since he’d always been careful to wear his long johns when they’d been ‘courting’. “I wasn’t planning on sleeping with you tonight, so I wasn’t worried about sparing your sensibilities.”

“I didn’t know how to tell you I wanted you to touch me, but that I didn’t know if I could handle it.”

“All this fighting because you wanted me to touch you?”

“I thought it would make you happy,” she admitted.

“And that’s why you decided to do it?” He slid his arm under her neck, preventing her from falling off the bed. With a curl of his forearm, he had her turned into his side.

“No.”

He waited, adjusting the covers over her shoulder. He flexed his toes to get some warmth back in them. If the floors were any indication, winter was coming early this year.

“I thought things could be normal between us,” she said softly.

“Can’t get more normal than two folks sleeping together.”

“I want babies.”

He smiled. “Then again, I guess you can.”

“You don’t have to be nice to me, you know.” The amount of pride packed into that statement would have done a cavalry unit proud.

“I like being nice to you.” He shifted her elbow out of his rib cage. “I told you when you proposed I had a liking for touching ladies tenderly.”

“I thought you were talking about…” She waved her hand descriptively.

“You thought I was talking about between the sheets,” he clarified. “Gotta admit, I have a penchant for that, too.” He felt her blush heating her chest on its way to her face.

His grin widened as he went on, “Thing is, I flat out like having a wife to spoil. I’m enjoying being married.”

She didn’t have anything to say to that. He took the opportunity to get to the meat of the matter. He tipped up her chin so she’d know he wasn’t lying. “I know what it’s like to be beaten, Elizabeth. Don’t you ever think I don’t know how ashamed you feel. A shame that goes bone deep when it’s someone you love doing the beating. My ma used to whip me daily to drive the devil out.”

Her eyes widened in surprise.

“You ever get the urge to look, you’ll find marks on me, too. Probably not as much as you’re thinking as I grew big fast and could put an end to it, but it’s not something I’m proud of or likely to forget.”

“I didn’t realize…”

“No reason you should. It happened a long time ago.”

A hairpin jabbed his thumb as he slid his hand over her hair. He pulled it out, then went in search of more. “Thing is, when I was little, I could never figure out how I had the devil in me when she was the one sinning daily. I used to check the mirror for some sign that everyone else could see and I couldn’t.” By the time he had the sixth pin free, her hair began to uncoil. With a few passes of his fingers, he aided its surge for freedom. He shrugged and continued. “I could never find it, though.”

“What?”

“The mark that made them call me devil’s spawn.”

“You were just a little boy!”

He carefully slid his arm from under her and propped himself on his elbow so he could see her face. “And you were just a little girl who couldn’t help it anymore than I could. The only difference between us is I stopped searching for the reason.”

“It’s not right—”

He cut her off by sliding his hand down her hips and pulling her legs against his. “Right or wrong has nothing to do with it. It’s just the way it happened.”

“I know—”

He put his fingers over her lips. He didn’t want to rehash the past. Not when he had her in bed with him and in an accommodating mood, her soul bare, her defenses down. “I think the best thing for us to do is forget what we ‘know’ about the other and start fresh.”

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