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Marissa lay stiffly against him, frowning at his throat. What did he mean, she didn't need to seduce him? Because he liked her or because he didn't care for her anymore?
'Jude ..." When she placed her hand flat on his chest, the strength of his body made her heart ache. She wanted... something from. him. But she no longer had any idea what it was.
"It's all right, mon coeur." He stroked her back, and she finally relaxed into him a bit. His heart beat against her ear. "Are you reading a new novel?"
Frowning in confusion, she nodded.
"Tell me the story."
"What has that to do with anything?"
"It has nothing to do with anything, but I want to hear it."
After a few puzzled moments, Marissa shrugged and started the story. As she spoke, Jude stroked her back, then her arm; then his hand curved around the nape of her neck and rubbed small circles into her muscles. He laughed at the parts she'd thought were funny, and clucked over the drama of the six couples and their intrigues. And he touched her, always.
Marissa didn't want him to stop, so when she came to the last part of the story she'd read, she continued on, wearing her own tale. She felt safe in his arms. Cared for. And knoxim. It was so strange to consider a man a friend, and yet he was a friend. That was what she didn't want to lose.
She finally let the story drift away, but Jude's hand kept up its small caresses. In that moment, she wished they were married, just so they could climb beneath the covers of the bed and lie like this, with no stiff fabrics or stays between them. She wanted to press her hand to his bare chest again, and feel his skin against her cheek.
"I've been thinking . .." he said, and her heart gave a small cry of pain. This was it. He was calling off. She held her breath and wailed for the awful words.
"Is there any possibility your cousin could be behind this bribery?"
Her mind tumbled for a moment, tossed about by the strange topic. "What? Which cousin?"
"Harry."
"Harry!" She pushed up from his chest for a moment. "That's absurd."
Jude raised an eyebrow. "Is it? He knows all about your escapades."
"That's only because he's always here. He's like a brother, really."
"And yet he's not."
"He spent every summer with us. We are his family."
Jude eased her back down, and she went willingly, comforted by his warmth despite that he was the one saying such discomfiting things.
He put his hand to her neck and stroked his
thumb against her nape. "So he is almost like a brother, but not quite. Welcome in the family home, though it will never be his—"
"Yes. And?"
"Have you never considered that it could be painful? I have some experience with this, you know," Jude said, and Marissa felt suddenly chastened. Yes, of course he did.
"But you are not saying you resented them?"
"No, but I could have. And so could Harry."
"That's impossible. He's not that type of man. He loves us."
"All right. I only just thought of it. I haven't spent any time trying to feel him out."
Marissa frowned at the fire, troubled by his words. It was such a simple thought, that one could belong to a family and yet not belong. But it would never have occurred to her to have sympathy for Harry. Did he resent them? Surely not.
"It can't he him!" she blurted out. "What about the birthmark?"
