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She sits down in the grass, closes her eyes, and inhales deeply. Her lips curl into a faint smile. When she looks at me again, she pats the grass beside her. "Sit down. We should talk."
Despite her filthy clothes and disheveled hair, she is beautiful. I can't stop a memory from rushing through me, a replay of our time in the warehouse before Sefton came for us. I remember being inside her, taking her body without mercy, relentless in my need to claim this woman for my own. I hadn't realized that's what I was doing until after we had sex. The act hadn't dulled my hunger for her at all. I still crave her like mad, but now I want to do more than fuck her. I need to make her feel something for me because…I feel something for her.
I drop onto the grass an arm's length from her. "I assume 'talking' involves you demanding information from me."
"Not demanding. Requesting. I'd like it if you volunteered information instead of making me drag it out of you."
The worst part of me insists I should remind her of our arrangement, but I can't speak the words. I need her to want me willingly.
Allison pokes my arm. "Don't you want to remind me that my body is your property?"
"No. Forget our deal."
"Really?" She squeezes my thigh gently. "For the record, you don't need a contract to make me sleep with you. I'll do it anyway."
"Why?"
"Because it feels good. Duh."
I resist the urge to apologize and to explain my behavior. She wants answers now, not my pathetic excuses. "What do you want to know?"
"Tell me what happened between you and Sefton. Why he hates you. Why he made you the anchor for his so-called gift."
"He gaveyoua gift. But he cursed me."
She wriggles her arse to turn toward me. "I'd like to know why Sefton did that. Please."
"We might be twins, but we have never been identical—except in our appearance." I take a deep breath and exhale it slowly. The time has come to tell her everything. "It happened a week ago, back home in England. Sefton asked me to meet him at our ancestral home, in front of the gravestones for our parents."
One Week Ago
Fallenmouth Manor, England
I stride across the lawn, past the sprawling home where I once lived with my parents and my brother, heading behind the house toward the family cemetery. Acid roils in my gut, because I never wanted to come back here. This is the property of the Earl of Fallenmouth, not of the Stainthorpe family, not anymore. Without Mum and Dad, I don't want to live here. When the household staff started calling me "my lord," it was too much. I had to leave.
But my brother kept living here. I told him he could. Let Sefton have the place. It holds too many memories for me, too many feelings that I've avoided confronting.
I find Sefton standing at the graves, head down.
"What's going on, Sef?" I ask as I halt beside him. "You made it sound urgent. I rushed here from London, so it had better be good."
"You need to know that I'll be making some changes."
"The estate is your business, not mine. Redecorate all you want."
He lifts his head, aiming his gaze directly at me. "That's not what I meant. The changes I intend to implement are more far-reaching than the upholstery in the house or the shrubs in the garden."
I sigh and shove my hands into my trouser pockets. "Why don't you tell me what it is? I have things to do."
"You mean women to do. Honestly, Dax, Father would be ashamed of you."
No, I won't deny that. It's true.
Sefton's lip curls. "I'm ashamed of you. That's why I've chosen you to be the anchor in my plan to change everything."
A car horn blares three times on the other side of the house.
"Claudia is here," I say. "She's dying to be shagged by an earl. So get on with it, Sef."
