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“And she died.”
Her hand flattened on his stomach, the cool of her palm soothing against the heat of his skin. “She did, but she did it for love.”
She shifted, craning her neck so she could look up to his face. “That was what I wanted to find in Bedfordshire, no matter if they took to me or not. I wanted that for my mother. To find out that she had been loved so desperately the only choice was for her and my father to run away together. And then the only thing that could have parted them was a terrible tragedy. I wanted her to be loved. I wanted her to love me.”
He met her gaze, both of his eyebrows slanting inward. “You don’t know that she didn’t love you.”
She shrugged, her face dipping back down so he couldn’t see it. “I know she was in Belize by herself, giving birth alone, dying alone. No one there that loved her. I can imagine it. No wonder she slipped away so easily. There was nothing to tether her to this earth—just a screaming babe that had sucked the life out of her.”
“Pen—you don’t know that. She could have loved you more than anything. It is quite possible she went to Belize to get you away from her family. We’ll never know, but don’t assume the worst just because of how her family is.”
“They were quite awful.” Her knee slid up along his leg as her fingers tapped on his belly. “I am still trying to place in my mind the horridness they unleashed on my mother. But I refuse to manifest any excuses for them and their actions.”
Strider nodded. The first sensible thing he’d heard from her lips in regards to her mother’s family. “They deserve every ill thought you have of them.”
She looked up at him, a teasing smile cutting across the seriousness of her face. “But you won’t torture them?”
“They deserve it, but I will hold myself back unless you request it of me.” His hand slid down her spine, trailing along the bumps, memorizing each one. “I don’t know what is worse, to be banished from your kin because they are determined to deny the past, or to be exiled because of what you would ruin. Your family—you would have only brought them joy. My father’s family, I would only bring them destruction.”
She pushed herself upright, her legs tucking around her body as she turned fully toward him. Her perfectly formed breasts sat in front of him, making his cock twitch.
But no. She would be sore.
He’d almost forgotten that, what a virgin was. The future would hold hours-long sessions of her lips and legs and breasts, and his cock slamming into her so hard she’d draw blood on his back. But not now. Not for another six hours, at the minimum.
Her hand landed on his bare chest. “Destruction? What are you planning to do to your father’s family?” Her eyes narrowed. “Or what have you been doing? You told me you wouldn’t rest until everyone in that family is a pauper.”
Strider tucked his left forearm behind his head on the mound of pillows propping him up, ignoring the suspicion in her eyes. “I won’t rest. I haven’t.”
“What have you done?”
“I started with the fringes—the cousins—the easily corruptible. Those on the periphery of a duchy are particularly desperate—so close to power, yet so far removed from it. They tend to think of it as their own. Entitled.”
Her head snapped back, her face blanching. “Duchy? You never said anything about a dukedom.”
He shrugged. “I never knew when we were children. For all that my parents kept from us, that was the one thing I wasn’t expecting when I came to England and searched for my father’s family.”
Her hand splayed on his chest lifted away and clasped to her throat, her words halting. “And that is where your father was and you are as well? Along the fringes?”
He met the sudden fear in her eyes straight on. It was time she knew. “No. My father was the heart of it. The next in line to the dukedom before he left England with my mother.”
Her jaw dropped slightly as her body swayed to the left. “And your family didn’t track him?”
“No. From the rumors I uncovered of that time, my grandfather disowned my father—and my father hated him just as much and was determined to escape from under his fist. So my father disappeared from England and my grandfather swore he would declare my father dead. My grandfather died years later—not long before the fire that took my parents. The cousin that was next in line to the title had my father declared lost at sea and dead as soon as he could. My grandfather never went through with it.”
Her hand at her neck slid upward, her fingers partly covering her mouth that hung ajar. Her voice squeaked out. “You’re telling me you’re a…a duke?”
He shook his head. “No, not technically. Though my bloodline tells a different story.”
“And what have you been doing to them—the family?”
His look went upward to the dark blue canopy of the bed as he ticked off the notes of revenge he’d accomplished thus far. “Well, five of them have lost so much at various tables in gaming hells I own that the duke has cut them off—but not before he paid off hefty debts into my coffers for each one. Two of them are now sitting in debtor’s prison. One removed himself to America to try to forge forth in a new life. That one has spunk—he was young and full of youthful idiocy, but at least took responsibility for his actions. The other two were forced to marry hideous women with adequate dowries. One of them has already gone through his wife’s money, though, so that one is unfolding. Of the other cousins, I’ve worked on them, one, by one. Ostracized them and their families from society by well-placed scandals. Several duels that didn’t turn out well. Wherever I have found a weak point, I have utilized it.”
Pen’s hand fell from her face, her eyes wide as her mouth fell even farther ajar. “That’s horrible.”
“That’s justice.”
She shook her head. “No, it’s mean and petty and vengeful.”
