Page 19 of Brigand

It had been pure hell having her next to him at night, warmand fragrant—and not being able to touch her.

That was the real reason he’d banished her, wasn’t it?

It was one thing to lie there wanting her when she loathedhim wholeheartedly. But the look in her eyes when she realized who he reallywas—who he’d been—changed everything. Her hate had softened, turned tosomething else entirely. Something that frightened him to death.

He had always assumed she’d been the one to betray him toher vicious father. It was her fault he’d been punished so brutally that day.Her fault he and his mother had been cast out of service in disgrace.

He’d always assumed she hadn’t given a fig what had becomeof him.

But now—given her reaction when she realized his identity—hequestioned all that.

No one would tell me where you’d gone, she’d said,and in a ravaged tone as though she’d wept for hours, for days when he’d left.

Maybe she had said something about that kiss to her father.But maybe it hadn’t been a deliberate attempt to get rid of him. Maybe shehadn’t realized what the consequences might be for a servant boy who’d takenliberties with the master’s daughter.

So the question remained, if her betrayal hadn’t beenintentional, did it matter any less? The results didn’t change. Would neverchange.

But still, her expression haunted him.

Ewan raked his fingers through his hair and growled underhis breath. He had hated Violet Wyeth for most of his life. He had spent manylong, hungry nights in a cold garret room, plotting revenge. Whenever he’d hadto commit some foul act, something that stole a chunk of his soul, he’d thoughtof her. Assigned to her the burden of his guilt.

That she might have been innocent of this perfidy was toomuch to contemplate. Such a truth would rock the foundations of his entireworld. He did not want to contemplate it.

So he did what any sane man would do.

He avoided her. Holed himself up in his office with ordershe should not be disturbed.

The last thing he wanted was to finish the conversationshe’d started in his chamber. No, the last thing he wanted was to answer theburning question she’d asked. Where did you go?

He couldn’t bear the retelling.

And frankly, he didn’t want her to know the true depth ofhis fall from grace. It was better that she not know. That she never know.

A scratch came at the door. “Come,” he barked.

Pippin entered with a tray. “Your dinner.”

Ewan’s gaze snapped up. He’d never heard Pip speak to him insuch a sharp tone. He’d found the boy in the dark, rat-infested alleys ofPerth, cutting purses from inebriated lords outside the local gaming hells.He’d attempted to cut Ewan’s purse. But he’d done it so skillfully and Ewan hadbeen so impressed with his subsequent tearful tale of a dying mother and sickbaby sister—all of which had been a lie—he couldn’t help but take the boy in.He’d never regretted it. Not for a second. Pip had become his most devotedminion.

Until now.

Now he fixed Ewan with a dark glare, eyes narrowed.

Ewan sat back in his chair and surveyed the boy. “What isit?’ he asked.

Pip grunted and dropped the tray on the table. Broth sloshedonto the thick wood. “Soup.” He turned to leave.

“Wait.”

The boy stopped. He was a frail thing with a delicatelyboned face framed by a shaggy mop of hair. He’d been with Ewan for nearly ayear. Nearly a year with food every day and it seemed as though he hadn’t grownan inch. He certainly hadn’t filled out the way a lad approaching manhoodshould. Ewan knew what it was to starve. He knew some kinds of deprivationcould never be made up for. Many street urchins were tiny their whole lives.

But of all his men—all fellows he’d salvaged from impendingdoom of some kind—this one held a special place in his heart. Pip reminded himof himself in so many ways.

The boy crossed his arms over his thin chest and glared.“What?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’.”