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"I remember how much Henry adored your mother," Damen reflected. "He couldn't take his eyes off her when they were together, and he spoke of her often when they were apart. As for Breanna's parents, I was a boy when her mother died. Tell me, did your uncle feel the same way about his wife as your father did about his?"
Anastasia lowered her lashes. "I was only a few months old when Aunt Dorothy died in childbirth. I never knew her."
"Surely your mother spoke of her. She was her sister, after all."
"Her younger sister, yes." Anastasia had no desire to pursue this subject—not again. Telling Breanna was one thing; she had a right to the truth. But opening up to Damen was another matter entirely. His role in her life was too new, too fragile, to share the sordid details behind her uncle's hatred for her father. Perhaps someday … but not yet.
"Mama and Aunt Dorothy looked very much alike," she offered instead. "Between th
at and the fact that our fathers are twins, it's no wonder Breanna and I are identical."
"You're not identical. And you're changing the subject, just as you did in my office when we touched on your uncle's resentment toward you and your parents. It's obvious these two subjects are related. It's also obvious you're not ready to discuss either one with me."
"For now—no, I'm not. Please understand, this is all very personal."
"All right." Damen nodded slowly, his eyes hooded. "I won't push you."
"I appreciate that." Anastasia cleared her throat. "You said that soft-heartedness was one of the traits Breanna and I have in common. What other ones do you perceive?"
"Loyalty." Damen followed her lead, abandoning the prior topic and picking up the current one. "Loyalty and love—especially for each other. And, I suspect, for your grandfather."
Anastasia blinked, taken aback, yet again, by the depth of Damen's insight. "I'll repeat what I said to you that night on the balcony: you're a very perceptive man, Lord Sheldrake."
"And I'll repeat what I answered you then: you're a very intriguing woman, Anastasia." He caressed her cheek, let his fingers trail down the side of her neck. "Intriguing and intoxicating. So intoxicating that I can't keep my mind—or my hands—off of you." He wrapped an insistent arm around her waist, pulled her against him. Then, he lowered his head, buried his lips in hers for a long, dizzying minute. "Tell me you feel the same way," he murmured, ending the kiss with the greatest reluctance. "Tell me."
"I do," she replied breathlessly.
Abruptly, his mood altered, and he gripped her arms, searching her face with those smoky, compelling eyes. "Then let me help you. Let me help unravel this puzzle."
"How?"
"I have many contacts. I'll make some inquiries, find out just what George's financial situation is. The sooner we know what we're up against, the sooner we can set things right."
A surge of relief flooded through her, and for the first time she realized how alone she'd felt in this dilemma. Her parents were gone, her uncle was suspect, and Breanna was too much at risk to call upon for help. She'd had no one to turn to, no one to ask for help.
Until now.
"Stacie," Damen said softly, mistaking her silence for refusal. "You sought me out as a partner for your bank. This is no different. I know you value your independence. But sometimes success requires drawing upon additional resources in order to achieve the most profitable outcome. This is one of those times."
Anastasia arched a teasing brow. "Spoken like a true investment adviser. Tell me, Lord Sheldrake, are you proposing yet another partnership between us?"
He grinned. "Um-hum. And I'd jump at this one if I were you. I'm a damned good risk."
"Yes," she agreed. "You are." This time it was she who initiated things, reaching up to tug Damen's mouth down to hers. "Consider this my signature."
He made a rough sound against her lips, his arms tightening, drawing her closer. "Much better than a quill," he muttered.
"And far more binding."
Slowly, Damen raised his head, stared deeply into her eyes. "Binding. I like the sound of that." He smoothed his fingers over the shining crown of her hair. "And speaking of binding, I hope that soon you'll decide to tell me the details of whatever caused George's hostility toward you and your parents. And after that…" His thumb caressed her soft lower lip. "…I want to hear all about the special tie you shared with your grandfather."
An ardent sparkle lit her eyes, and she kissed his fingertips. "That will take long hours in private, my lord. Do you think you can arrange that?"
"Oh, yes. I can definitely arrange that." On the heels of his vow, all teasing vanished, and Damen's expression grew intense. "But, Stacie, if I do—I'm not sure I can promise to display that honorable quality you obviously believe I possess."
Anastasia's heated gaze met his. "Good. Because I'm not sure I want you to."
* * *
