“No.” He fell into step beside me, his greatcoat flapping on the breeze like raven wings. “I will not leave you.”
“Why not? Everyone else has.”
He gripped my arm, his hand warm through my cloak. “That’s not true.”
“That’s why Oliver sent me to London with Helen, isn’t it?” I jerked away from him, and continued to trudge through the snow. “I don’t belong here. I never did. I’m a bastard.”
He grabbed my hand, jerking me to a stop. I couldn’t see his face in the darkness. Not that I needed to. I’d memorized every detail, from the color of his eyes, to the shape of his lips. “No. He sent you away because he cared. He was trying to protect you.”
I scoffed as I tore my hand from his grip and trudged around the rock. The relief I felt was immediate. It was there…a shadow of a shelter. A small, dark cottage, huddled between rock outcroppings. I’d left the estate with no clear destination in mind. And then I’d remembered it: the little hunting cottage where my brothers had tried to hide me.
A sturdy little structure that had protected us years ago, and it was just waiting for my return. I didn’t belong in an earl’s estate; I didn’t belong in the slums. I belonged in a small cottage, hidden away with past mistakes.
“Come.” Gabe wrapped his arm around my waist and helped me across the snow, toward the building. If my legs hadn’t been numb, I would have pushed him away and entered on my own. Exhausted, I allowed him to lead.
The door opened under his touch. There was no lock. Gabe gently pushed me inside, then closed the door. The wind battered the small stone cottage, and rattled the windows, but inside, we were safe. Protected. Alone.
I shivered, crossing my arms. It was dark, and reeked of dust and memories. Gabe went immediately to the fireplace. He stacked logs into the hearth and started the fire, as if he’d done it plenty of times before.
I didn’t know why it surprised me. “You know how to start a fire?”
He pushed at the logs with a poker. “My father wouldn’t allow us coal. Said it cost too much, and made us use blankets. And so we’d huddle together, in the old, empty, bitterly cold manor house he’d inherited, until I learned how to gather kindling and make a fire for me and my brother.”
How could I feel so close to him, yet there be so little I knew about him? Slowly, the small abode came to life, light tip-toing across the scarred floorboards. The windows were frosted over so that one couldn’t see outside, and a table, trunk, and bed were the only pieces of furniture. It was sadly lacking, yet practical. Like me.
“They think I don’t remember,” I whispered.
He stood and went to the trunk. “Remember what?”
“Him.”
He paused for a moment, before pulling a blanket from the trunk and heading toward me. I could read nothing on his stoic face. With deft fingers he tugged the cloak from my body, and draped the woolen blanket over my shoulders.
The material was cold, and I shivered. He tossed aside his greatcoat, and brought me close, into his strong body. I wanted to sink into his warmth. Wanted to wrap my arms around him and never let go. He ran his hands up and down my arms, bringing feeling to my numb limbs.
“Him?”
I stared hard into the growing flames of the hearth. “My stepbrother.”
His hands stopped. So, he knew about the man. Who had told him? Oliver, most likely. Did all of my brothers know? Jules and Lilly? I squeezed my eyes shut and buried my face into his chest. I didn’t want to think about my stepbrother, but at the same time, I couldn’t stop once the words left my lips.
“The scar on my wrist…” I released a harsh, muffled laugh. “How can someone forget that?”
He cupped my face and pressed his lips to my forehead. “I’m so sorry.”
For some reason, tears stung my eyes. I’d never told a soul, but I was going to tell him. Needed to tell him, for some reason. “I was sleeping. It was late, dark. I remember waking, and spotting someone huddled in front of my fireplace. I thought I dreamt. Then he started toward me, a branding iron in hand. The tip of that branding iron so very red, that for a moment I thought it a demon’s eye. “This will only hurt