Callouses? It can’t be Sir Stick. What could he possibly have done to turn a gentleman’s skin into something coarse and rough?
She told herself to pull away, but the electricity that shot through her veins lit a fire between her thighs. It was his thumbs that grazed her flesh.
Back and forth.
Is he tracking my pulse?
That mask tilted down. The thumb stopped. He pulled her wrist closer. She tugged against him but he held firm.
She knew what he was looking at.
He opened his hand, and she left hers resting on his palm for a moment before bringing it back to her side.
“Is that a tattoo?”
She nodded. “Over a birthmark.”
“It looks like a small handprint, like small fingers holding onto your wrist.”
He can see that?
Her mouth was dry. She tried to swallow. Her lips parted and she blinked, surprised at the sound of her voice.
“It’s to remind myself I was born.”
Now why would you tell him that?
The iron mask made a quick and sudden movement. She would have said it flinched, if iron could do that. Even through those slits, she saw something that suggested he was puzzled.
Of course he is.Yeah, well, he doesn’t know my father.
What she’d just said made no sense. To anyone but her.
She wondered at herself for saying it. Especially to him.
She waited. But he said nothing. And yet she felt as if his silence was speaking to her.
She just didn’t know what it was telling her.
She felt a sudden impulse to say something. But not just anything.
Should I?
She lifted her chin, peering at those black slits. “Someone once told me I behave the way I do because I’m looking to get the attention I didn’t get as a child.”
If it was Sir Stick, he’d know she was referring to him.
But again, she got no response.
She tossed her head. “The tattoo reminds me that I’m here, for however long. It reminds me never to hold back; never to look back.”
“But shouldn’t you hold back? I mean … sometimes.”
She thought of Silverstone.
If it’s Sir Stick, he must be thinking of it too.
Had she been reckless, when she’d told Ian to overtake Clarke at Club Corner? But how could she not? It was their last chance, the final push to the finish line. She knew Clarke would take his foot off the gas when he shouldn’t. And that was Anker’s opening.
