Page 43 of Winter's Waltz
How strange this man she had believed careless and foolish should turn out to be one of the most caring she had ever met, aside from her brothers.
She inhaled again, her pounding heart calming. The past was gone. Her mother was gone. This blood was not the same.
She ran her tongue over her dry lips. “Thank you.”
“Of course. I will need to clean the wound for you and bandage it.”
“It’s scarcely a wound,” she forced herself to say, summoning her courage. “A scratch, nothing more.”
“Your reaction suggests otherwise,” he observed, frowning.
“My reaction was deceiving.” She hesitated, not wanting to reveal the truth to him. “It was because of something that happened to me when I was a girl.”
That she could speak of the event, describe it in such benign terms, surprised her. But there was no other way to admit her mother had tried to kill her, was there?
“You need not tell me, Gen.” His tone was tender.
He was holding her hand, careful to keep the handkerchief wrapped around her thumb, which had begun to throb now that some of her anxiety had subsided. And she realized she wanted to tell him. Not just because he would likely see her scar, but because she trusted him.
“I was stabbed,” she blurted. “My brother Gavin saved me. The fear is an old one, the scar long healed. But the memory remains, and whenever I see my own blood, I am taken back to that day.”
His expression shifted, hardening. “Christ. You were stabbed when you were a girl? What kind of a monster would harm a child?”
She managed a sad smile. “My mother. She was out of her head. Too much blue ruin, and she had the pox. Thought I was a demon, and she was going to rid herself of me. Gavin heard me scream… I had been running, trying to escape, and she was after my throat.”
The fear returned, tightening in her chest. But it was not as heightened as it had been at the sight of her blood.
“My God.”
She searched his countenance, thinking he would be appalled to know her own mother had tried to kill her. “You see what stock I come from. I’m tainted. Not just a bastard. Worse.”
“You are not responsible for your mother’s sins,” he said softly.
With a pang, it occurred to her that this was the first time anyone had ever told her those words. And how miraculous they seemed. How hopeful.
She shook her head. “That is not the way of it in this world.”
“It damn well should be,” he bit out. “You were an innocent child. The woman who should have been protecting you betrayed you.”
“Gav was there. He protected me.”
“And thank God for that.” With an air that was almost worshipful, he raised her hands to his lips for a kiss. “Little wonder you are so strong.”
Despite his praise, she was embarrassed, both by her carelessness in cutting herself and her reaction to the blood. “I am not strong, or I would be able to look at a scratch on my thumb without swooning.”
“You are wrong, empress.” He was serious, no sign of the dimples that tempted and taunted her and yet as alluring as ever. “You are the strongest woman I know. I admire you. Hell, I wish I possessed a crumb of your bravery.”
His frank admiration had her cheeks going hot. “You saved us from the fire. That was brave.”
“It was necessary.” He squeezed her hands gently. “May I unwrap it and see that your wound is properly cleansed?”
She eyed him. “Why are you so determined to take care of me, Marquess?”
No man before him had been so concerned over her. And yet, Max was bringing her honey cakes, accompanying her as she faced Jasper Sutton, fretting over her wounded thumb and her past.
“I care about you,” he said simply.
As if he had not just made such a shocking revelation.
