a drunkard. His sudden disappearance twenty years ago had caused much speculation. Some said he'd run off to escape the law or the thugs who had lent him money he couldn't repay. Others said he'd gotten drunk and fallen into the river and drowned. And though he knew none of the stories were true, Jason rather liked the latter. There was a certain poetic justice to it.
"Like father, like son," he laughed, then sobered suddenly. That was the greatest fear of his life, that he would turn out like his father.
He was taking a terrible chance marrying. He might never know what he was capable of if he never had a family.
Would he find out that he was a man capable of the kind of violence his father had exercised, violence against those who were weaker than he? Against the very people who should be able to turn to him for protection?
Why risk it? Was it the loneliness? Was it the idea of having one human being in the world who would love him unconditionally and look at him with something other than contempt or pity or fear?
He turned and glanced up at the closed door on the second floor. She hadn't looked at him with pity or contempt. But then, she didn't know him yet. Give her time. Judging by the intense curiosity and razor-sharp perception he'd seen in those hazel eyes, she'd ferret out every secret in his black heart if he wasn't careful.
Perhaps it had been a mistake to bring her here. He'd come here to escape the world, to a place where no one knew or cared that he was Cullen Sinclair's son. The last thing he needed was a curious, inquisitive wife to start rattling the skeletons in his carefully sealed closet.
"Caroline Sinclair," he said aloud, rolling the name around on his tongue.
She wasn't what he'd expected at all. She was so damned strong, so self-reliant. He'd expected a much younger woman, a woman he could control and mold into what he wanted her to be, a woman who would stay out of his way for the most part so that he wouldn't ever have to face the demon that dwelled inside him.
Why have you been avoiding me? she'd had the temerity to ask.
Damned if she wasn't the most direct female he'd ever met. Granted, his experience with women was limited. Contact with the fairer sex in the Amazon jungle was practically nonexistent.
And just why the hell had she accepted this insane proposition and come to Brazil, unless she too was running away from something?
That thought stilled him, and he squinted his eyes toward that silent door, as if he could see through it all the way into her soul by dint of will.
He'd surrounded himself with fresh, new things. He didn't like antiques and the secrets they brought with them. He didn't like secrets at all, even his own. He gave a snort and decided that thought deserved another drink.
Still, he had to admit she was a beautiful woman, a woman who exuded an aura of sensuality that kept his blood in a constant uproar. His hands ached to feel the texture of her pure, ivory skin, to caress that glorious rich brown hair. He yearned to taste the sweetness of her mouth, hold her body against his, bury himself deep inside her and make her his own.
His hand trembled as he brought the bottle to his lips once again and drank deeply, wincing at the burning sensation that spread throughout his body. Returning the bottle to the table, he held his hand before his eyes and studied it critically—the rough skin, the calluses, the dirty, broken fingernails. He didn't know if he could bear to touch her. There was something fine about her, something elegant and pure. Just looking at her made him feel dirty and unworthy.
She'd been right, of course. He had been avoiding her and avoiding the inevitable consummation of their marriage, the very inevitability of which was a sweet torture, one that he savored even as it tormented him. It gave a special edge to every moment, making him feel more vitally alive than he had in a very long time.
Sweet agony, it was. Sweet agony.
Perhaps she welcomed the respite. He had believed she would, being a woman and naturally timid. At least he'd thought so until she'd come in search of him that morning. Goddamn her timing!
He'd been so stunned by her sudden appearance that he hadn't even had