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Lance levered himself down into his armchair, swallowing a varied assortment of swear words. ‘Why on earth wouldn’t he like looking at you?’
She didn’t answer, leaping to her feet suddenly instead. ‘I’m sorry. This footstool’s for your leg, isn’t it?’
‘My leg be damned.’ He gestured for her to sit down again. ‘I said you could go wherever you wanted. That includes footstools.’
‘Here.’ She perched on one edge, leaving room for his foot. ‘We can share.’
‘You look uncomfortable.’
‘Well, I’m not.’ She reached down, wrapping her hands around his boot and lifting it up beside her. ‘How about that?’
He stiffened at her touch, his whole body tightening as a thrill of desire coursed through it. The view was even more stimulating. She was sitting lower down than he was, so that he had a perfect view of the tops of her breasts, moving gently up and down as she breathed. They were an exquisite size, too, he noticed, perfect handfuls...
‘Better.’ He dragged his gaze away quickly.
‘What happened to your leg?’ She looked at it curiously, as if she might somehow guess the injury by staring at his trousers.
‘I was shot.’
‘In battle?’
‘Nothing so grand.’
‘In a skirmish?’
‘In a duel.’
Her eyes darted back to his. ‘I thought they were illegal?’
‘They are, but my opponent had a legitimate grievance.’
‘Which was?’
He sighed. ‘I doubt you’d like me very much if I told you.’
‘You promised to always tell me the truth.’
‘So I did, but there’s a difference between telling the truth and telling everything. Suffice to say that the answer doesn’t reflect very well on me. I deserved everything I got and more. Besides, you haven’t answered my question yet. Why didn’t your father like looking at you?’
She seemed to exhale slowly. ‘I think it was to do with what you said earlier, about me looking like my mother. I was a reminder of her when he didn’t want any.’
‘Didn’t he care for her?’
‘The opposite.’ She gave a sad-looking smile. ‘It’s hard to imagine my father in love, I know, but he did love her. No one’s ever told me so directly, of course, but I’ve heard things and pieced them together. There were never any pictures or mementoes of her in the house because he didn’t allow them. No one was even allowed to mention her name in his hearing. He wasn’t always the way he became, but when she died he was heartbroken, and...’ she paused briefly ‘...he blamed me.’
‘For what?’
‘For killing her, I suppose. You see, I was sick first. I don’t even know what kind of illness it was. All I know is that she nursed me and then she fell sick, too. Only I got better and she didn’t. I think he blamed me for that.’
‘You were only a child.’
‘I know. He knew it, too. I suppose that’s why he never accused me directly, but there were times when I caught him looking at me as if he resented me for it. As if he hated me even.’
Lance frowned. He’d thought of Harper as a miserable, cranky old curmudgeon, but he’d never realised just how much of a monster he’d truly been.
‘You said he controlled you.’
‘Yes.’ She stared into the fireplace. ‘Although he always said that he was trying to protect me. I wanted to believe it, but I think it was a form of punishment, too, as if he were trying to stop me from living my own life because I’d ruined his somehow. But I went along with it, always trying to please him, to make him happy. I never asked for anything. I never argued back. I thought that maybe one day...’
