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“I’m a willing captive.”
He rolled to face me, and I brushed my thumb over his lower lip. “It’s sort of impossible not to kiss you now that I can,” I said.
“What’s stopping you?”
“My morning breath.”
I tossed off the covers and headed to the bathroom.
“I don’t care about such things, Cole.”
When I returned, I slid back into bed and laid a soft kiss on his lips. “I care. Not if you have it but that I might.”
“That makes no sense.”
“I know. It’s like gift cards. I hate giving them; I worry they’re not thoughtful enough, yet I have no problem receiving them.”
Ambri looked dryly amused. “So glad we got that sorted.”
I laughed and kissed him again. Our kiss deepened and my body threatened to wake, but just lying with Ambri in my bed was worth savoring. I tucked my arm under my head. My other hand found his, our fingers tangling.
“Thank you,” I said.
“For what?”
“For trusting me.”
“It’s only kissing,” Ambri said. “Silly to withhold it, I suppose. An attempt to keep something to myself after so much had been taken away.”
My heart dropped and I held his hand tighter. “I wondered if something had happened to you. Ihopedit hadn’t. But it’s not silly. You did what you had to do to protect yourself.”
He frowned. “You’re not going to ask me what other sordid little tale I’m harboring?”
“No. I’m here if you want to tell me, but it’s up to you if you feel ready.”
He closed his eyes. “Cole Matheson…if only I’d met you in life, things might’ve turned out very differently for me.”
“I’m here now. And this is still your life, Ambri.”
He rolled onto his back, holding my hand, tracing my fingers with his. “Are you certain you wish to hear it? It’s not pleasant but rather…shameful.”
“I’m here. I’m listening,” I said, while inwardly bracing myself. Pain was coming to the surface of his expression. “It might help to get it out.”
“Perhaps.”
He laid my hand over his heart, holding it there, his gaze on the ceiling. Just when I thought he’d decided against it, he inhaled and began to speak.
“I told you my parents had me late in life. My birth nearly killed my mother, and while my father was pleased to have a male heir, neither had the energy or inclination to raise me. To this day, I’m not entirely certain of my own birthday. I grew up with a rotating roster of tutors and governesses. I rarely saw my parents or my older sister, Jane—a spinster who kept to herself in the west wing. The one bright spot was the visits from Uncle.
“He wasn’t blood-related but a family friend. I called him Uncle. He was like a burst of light in the gray mausoleum that was Hever. A jovial fellow, always giving me treats, always ruffling my hair—always resting his hand on my shoulder or finding other reasons to touch me. His affection was platonic until I was ten years old. I suppose it was then that he’d decided that he’d waited long enough.”
Oh fuck…
My chest tightened with dread. Under my hand, Ambri’s heart was beating fast, belying his calm, resigned tone.
“He arrived at Hever in mid-summer from his estate in Kent and asked if I would like to accompany him to London. I’d agreed, of course. To trade the cold, drafty castle for the bustling city? What rambunctious boy wouldn’t? But no sooner had the carriage door closed than Uncle made his true motivations known. His affection for me becameless thanplatonic.”
I gritted my teeth.Ten years old.
