Part 31 (1/2)

”I use it for you.” If she didn't believe that, she couldn't summon courage to persist. She gathered that courage and placed her hand over the bulge in his trousers.

Her breath caught. He made a strangled sound deep in his throat. She'd never touched him there before. Through his clothing, she felt the tensile power. The life. The vigor. Automatically, she shaped her fingers to the hard length. His flesh surged into her palm as if it had a will of its own.

Gideon closed his eyes. ”Charis...”

She bit her lip and lifted her hand away. She shook as she reached for his neckcloth. Her fingers were clumsy, and the length of linen seemed impossible to untangle.

She sucked in a deep breath, redolent of Gideon, and forced herself to concentrate. Eventually, she managed to tug the neckcloth free. His s.h.i.+rt gaped. His pulse beat wildly at the base of his throat.

He breathed rapidly. So did she. The room felt close, confined, stifling. Need settled low and heavy in her belly.

She hadn't set out to t.i.tillate him. Or herself. But the act of undressing this big strong man-and him standing quiveringly still as she disrobed him-made heat well between her legs.

The air was sharp with arousal. Male and female. She wasn't touching him, but his desire surrounded her like sheets of flame.

He closed his eyes as if he couldn't bear to witness what she did. His tension was a vibrant, writhing force. Air sc.r.a.ped in and out of his lungs.

Doubt a.s.sailed her. Held her paralyzed.

Could she do this? Should she do this? What if her actions pushed him deeper into purgatory?

She braced her shoulders and reached forward to pull his s.h.i.+rt free of his trousers. Her heart banged against her ribs. Her hands shook.

He opened his eyes and s.n.a.t.c.hed the hem of his s.h.i.+rt. ”Here, d.a.m.n you,” he grated out. He tore the garment in two, shucked the ragged pieces, and dropped them to the floor.

Anything Charis might have said lodged unspoken in her tight throat. Her hands fisted at her sides. Her eyes flew up to meet Gideon's gla.s.sy gaze, then dropped to convulsively trace every line of his torso.

She'd known he'd be beautiful. But his virile splendor left her speechless. His pale skin stretched tight over ridges of hard muscle. Feathery dark hair covered the broad plane of his chest.

Scars patterned his chest and arms. Long lines that she guessed came from a whipping. Pale satiny welts that looked like burns. Round marks that could be bullet holes. A tangible history of unrelenting pain.

Her attention returned to his face. His jaw set like stone with stoic endurance.

He loathed this. He loathed this to the depths of his being.

Oh, Gideon, I'm so sorry. Forgive me.

She reached out and placed a gentle hand on one powerful arm. He flinched away. Just like he used to. Fear scored her heart. Would tonight hurl him back into his nightmare isolation?

She straightened. She'd set out on this path. For good or ill, she must follow it to the end.

Steeling herself for what she'd see, she slowly stepped behind him. He held himself so still, she couldn't hear his breathing anymore.

His back was long. Leanly muscled. Graceful in its strength.

Marred with scars upon scars upon scars.

How had anyone borne such torture and lived?

Scalding tears stung her eyes, but she forced them back. A sob jammed behind her lips. She must be strong, just as Gideon had been strong.

Her horrified gaze clung to the pattern of cicatrices across his flesh. Every inch of his back carried the mark of violence. His captors must have beaten him again and again. They must have stabbed him and burned him. Her imagination failed as she sought to measure his torment.

With one trembling hand, she touched a thick puckered line that snaked around his ribs. He flinched again, although the wound had long since healed.

”Have you had enough?” he asked cuttingly.

”Oh, Gideon, what did they do to you?” she whispered.

”I warned you.”

She traced the scar, feeling where other scars intersected it. The raised flesh under her touch was unnaturally smooth. ”I still think you're beautiful,” she choked out.

His muscles tensed, then he jerked away from her tentative exploration.

”Do you indeed, sweet Charis?” he snarled, whirling to face her. ”What about this?”

With savage swiftness, he ripped the gloves from his hands and flung them to the floor.

Nineteen.

Charis's heart crashed to a halt. At last she saw what Gideon had hidden all this time. She saw and yet could hardly believe it.

She thought viewing the scars on his back had tested the limits of her courage. But this, this went beyond anything she could conceive.

Her appalled gaze clung to the ruined hands he spread out before her as if he taunted her with their shattered elegance. ”Oh, Gideon,” she whispered, the words lacerating her throat.

”Quite a sight, aren't they? At least they work. After the torture, I wasn't sure they would.” His tone stung. He lifted his right hand and held it so close in front of her face that the tangled network of scars blurred. ”Do you want these touching your skin? Do you?”

She jerked back, mainly at the corrosive pain in his voice, then made herself stand still and look without flinching. He wanted her to recoil, she knew. He wanted her to confirm he was as repulsive as he believed.

”Don't,” she begged. Shaking, she reached out to catch his hand, but he wrenched free to stand in front of the grate.

Apart from hectic streaks of color lining his prominent cheekbones, his face was drawn and gaunt. His mouth was a white gash of anger. His black eyes were brilliant with humiliation and self-loathing.

”Don't touch you?” His bitter laugh made her cringe. ”I wouldn't dream of desecrating your body with these claws.”

”No...” He'd misunderstood her. Deliberately, she guessed. Her belly clenched in sick misery. She raised unsteady hands to her face and discovered it wet with tears.

He had so much pride. His pride was part of his extraordinary strength. But that also meant he'd hate her to cry over him. She should stop.

If only she could.

He sent her a blistering glare, then stalked toward the door, s.n.a.t.c.hing up his coat on the way. ”I've had enough of this. Find some other d.a.m.ned charity case.”

”Gideon, please don't go,” she forced through a throat thick with churning emotion.