Ben watched her rant, his arms crossed over his chest, his jaw tight. “Yes, I am the third Baron Archer of Umberslade,” he said tightly. “Does it really change who I am?”
“Of course it does!” She spun round. “It makes you a liar. When I have given you all of my truths.”
He took a step forward, the flat muscles along his abdomen bunching. “By degrees,” he said, flinging his arm wide. “Doled out like pieces of Sunday cake. And I understood that. It is what we all do.”
“That is not at all the same thing! There is a difference between refraining from divulging the truth and outright lying.”
Archer snorted. “Which appears to be knowing what questions to ask.”
Her fists balled at her sides in an effort to hold still. “You ought to have believed in me. Believed in us. And those men, those poor old men. You’re as old as they are!” She pressed her hands to her face, wanting to scream but unable to. “God.”
“And what should I have said?” His dark brows rose in inquiry. “ ‘I’m sorry, darling, but even if I do get better, I might turn into a withered husk and most likely die within months.’ Would that have eased the way?”
Hearing it come from him hit like a slap. The floor tilted beneath Miranda. She could not stay and watch him be destroyed. “I’m leaving,” she said through numb lips.
She turned for the door.
He was in front of her in an instant, slamming the door shut with his fist. “No.” He grabbed her shoulders, spinning her round, shoving her back against the wall. “No,” he said again, his voice breaking. His lips crushed against her, his fingers biting into her flesh.
She yielded to the pressure, and his tongue dove into her mouth. Miranda sucked it hard, needing to taste him, and he groaned. His fist pressed into her back, holding her tight enough to take her breath away.
“You can’t leave me.” He took her lower lip between his teeth. “I won’t let you go.”
She nipped back, her legs clenching his hard thigh. Shaking, his hand tore at her chemise and the fabric ripped.
“No.” She wrenched her head to the side, away from his seeking mouth. “No!”
“Miri.” It was a whimper of pain.
Suddenly she was hitting him, striking his hard chest with her fists. “You should have told me!”
He took her assault without flinching, and her hands fell to her sides. Hurting him only hurt her more.
He gazed at her sorrowfully but made no move to touch her. “My only excuse is fear,” he whispered thickly.
“A sorry excuse,” she sobbed, breathless from her spent fury. “When have you ever felt fear? The dauntless Lord Archer. When I think of how you looked upon Cheltenham’s body… you didn’t even flinch. It was as if you felt nothing.”
“Felt nothing?” he hissed. His brow wrinkled as he stepped back. “Felt nothing!” He moved with a blur of speed and struck the side of the wardrobe. The thick wood tore like paper under the impact of his fist.
He spun back to face her, the fine muscles along his shoulders and chest tensing as a milky light pulsed through his changed flesh—the sight of which alarmed Miranda more than his fury.
“It was all I could do not to scream when we found Chelt.” He grasped the short hairs upon his head as though he’d tear them out. Words poured from him like a purgative. “Cheltenham and I visited each other in the nursery. Merryweather and I roomed together in Cambridge. And Leland… Leland was my best mate. He brought me into West Club, then helped cast me out of London.”
His large frame began to shake as if he’d soon break apart. Miranda moved toward him, the pain of seeing him suffer stronger than her anger, but he glared at her fiercely. “Do you have any idea…” His breath hitched. “I’ve had to watch them age, turn gray. I couldn’t stand it. I had to get away. That is the true reason I left, not because they told me to go. And when I came back they were old, withered. A reminder of what I should be.”
He took a shuddering breath, and his shoulders fell. “I’ve watched you age. From a lovely young creature to this woman who is so achingly beautiful… God!”
He spread his arms wide in entreaty before letting them fall. “I lied. I lied when I said your beauty does not affect me. I look