“Move your hand,” she said quietly.
With a frown, Percival did, revealing the grim extent of the injury.
“It is only a small cut,” she said thickly, “but you will have the kind of bruise that will elicit plenty of questions. Fortunately, there are many ladies who find scars and bruises rather attractive. Rugged.”
His dark green eyes pinched as she lightly pressed the damp cloth to the cut. “So, you have done me a favor?”
“I would not say that.” She swallowed uncomfortably. “I… am sorry, Percival. If I had known the ball would hit you, I would have insisted on someone taking the mallet out of my hand. In truth, I did not know I possessed that sort of strength.”
He gazed up at her with a softness in his eyes that made her stomach feel strange, like she had consumed the salmon again. He did not seem otherwise delirious, but she chose to blame the change in his demeanor on the enormous bruise that was blossoming on the side of his head anyway.
“I doubt any of us knew you possessed that sort of strength,” he said. “I would not have taunted you if I had.”
Anna shook her head, urging her hand to cease trembling. “No, do not try and blame this on a taunt. I am well-versed in taunts. I should not have allowed it to… bother me so, nor is it any excuse for what I have done.” She cleared her dry throat. “All I wanted was to get the ball through the hoop, to prove to you that I could.”
“If my skull had been a hoop, Anna,” he said faintly, “you would have succeeded and then some.”
She slowly met his eyes again.Anna?
Had he ever called her that before? If he had, it had never been with such… gentleness. And, for a moment, she thought he might be about to smile. Not a smirk or a cold laugh, but a real smile.
“I am sorry,” she repeated.
He brought his hand up to cover hers, pressing the damp cloth more firmly against the side of his face. The gesture was so smooth, so unexpected, that she did not think to draw her hand away. And the longer he left his palm there, flush against her hand, the less shedidwant to draw away. Indeed, the least she could do was offer a hint of comfort to him after the mess she had made of him.
“Iam sorry,” he told her. “I am sorry for the things I said last night. I am sorry for the things I said at the bowling green. I am sorry for… many of the things I have said to you.”
He must be delirious… It is the only explanation.Heat pricked at Anna’s eyes, until she was not certain if she wanted to cry or scold him. Evidently, she had been holding on to her hurt, waiting for someone to tell her that she could let go of it; she had not realized she had been waiting for his apology, in order to do that.
“I have behaved badly,” he continued, “but I want you to know that there are… reasons to my actions, to the things I say that might seem thoughtless.”
Anna remained silent, too curious to risk breaking whatever spell was upon Percival, making him speak so gently and so freely.
“I despise love, Anna,” he murmured, closing his eyes. “When I hear anyone speak of it in high regard, it makes me want to crush every mention of it, every belief in it, under my boot. I was not lying when I agreed with Dickie—Iknowthat love is a trick. Iknowit makes people do foolish things that, otherwise, they would not do. It is not a heaven-sent emotion; it comes from the other place.”
A small gasp of protest slipped from Anna’s lips, the sound opening Percival’s eyes once more.
“No,” she said. “I will not believe that. Not even for a moment. Love is the purest feeling there is.”
He smiled thinly. “We might disagree, but will you listen?”
She hesitated. “Yes.”
“Then, please let me tell you a story.” He sighed and swallowed, his throat bobbing. “A story for your collection, that very few know.”
CHAPTERTWELVE
“Iwas seven when I lost my mother. Did Max ever tell you that?” Percival asked.
Anna shook her head. “He never speaks of your past. He has always said he would tell me one day, but that day has never come.”
There were a thousand other things she wanted to say, to prove to him that he was wrong, and that every word out of his mouth was nonsense, but she held her tongue. Not because she thought he was right, but she could see upon his pained face that it was not merely the injury making him suffer. There was a weight he needed to unburden himself of, and she was about to relieve him, if she but showed a little patience.
“I suppose that day might be today,” he said, grimacing. “My mother and father were a love match. When she died, he was… devastated. I do not know if you have ever seen a man weep, but it is something I shall never forget. He grieved her, he wept, he screamed, he tore at his hair, he cursed at the heavens for taking her away. For months and months. We grieved together, sharing in our pain, and I thought… having had a love like that, how could he ever find someone to take my mother’s place.”
Is that why he resents love, because it can be taken away?She kept her questions to herself, her breath catching as his fingers curved around her hand, holding it more tightly.
“He met my stepmother when I was not yet nine, and it was as if my mother had never existed,” he went on, his voice hitching. “It was immediate. The sorrow was there, and then it was not, and he was grinning and laughing and declaring my stepmother to be an angel in human form, calling her my new mother before we had even been introduced. Indeed, he loved my stepmother to the point of madness.
