Her fingers seemed to move of their own accord, tracing the thick muscles that were prominent even when he was resting. She'd been so caught up in her own pleasure, she'd barely touched him. Next time, she promised herself.

She'd just drifted into a light doze, when Shamus shifted, tilting her head so that she was looking up at him.

"Now we talk."

Chapter Eleven

Shamus hadn't wanted to break the mellow mood that existed between them. Cyndi was snuggled into his arms as if she belonged there, and he wasn't keen to see her leave. But the world outside this room was still there, waiting for them. He needed to know what he was dealing with if he wanted a permanent spot in Cyndi's life.

She stiffened and slowly sat up, clutching the comforter to her breast. “What do you want to talk about?” He could read the suspicion in her eyes, but he wasn't about to back down. This was too important to him. To them.

"About the room. About this house.” He raked his fingers through his hair and dragged in a breath. “About your father."

Her lips thinned and although she didn't move, he could feel her pulling away from him emotionally. “Just because we're sleeping together doesn't give you the right to know everything about my life."

He ignored the ache her words brought him. He supposed he deserved it after shutting her out earlier this evening, although that didn't make it any easier to bear. Cyndi was scared and lashing out, and he was the target available. Still, it hurt. “No, not because we're sleeping together. Because I care, because I want to mean more to you than just a warm body in your bed."

She closed her eyes and shuddered. When she opened them, they were filled with a deep sadness that shook him to his core. “You do mean more to me than that. I wouldn't have slept with you otherwise."

"I know,” he murmured. Cyndi wasn't the kind of woman to let a man into her bed easily. He'd sensed that right from the beginning. It was as if she didn't quite trust people not to hurt her, so she kept her guard up at all times. The fact she'd let it down with him tonight gave him hope.

He propped himself up against the headboard, resting his hands on his stomach. He wanted to drag Cyndi into his arms and cuddle her close, but he sensed now wasn't the time.

She drew her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. Her skin was still rosy from their lovemaking, her hair tousled, but her eyes were dark with memories.

"What happened?” he prompted.

She laughed and the sound was bitter. “What happened? What could possibly have happened to Cynthia James, pampered princess of Jamesville?"

Shamus narrowed his eyes, watching her intently. He noted she talked about herself in the third person, as if totally removed from the person she'd been. He said nothing, waiting patiently for her to continue.

"My father was controlling.” She tightened her grip around her knees. “I had to eat what he told me, wear what he told me, do whatever he told me. And if I didn't—” She broke off and shuddered. Her eyes were bleak when she glanced over at him. “There was hell to pay."

Shamus felt every muscle in his body tightening. “He hit you."

She nodded and looked away.

Fury, unlike anything he'd ever experienced in his life, surged through him. Knowing that anger was the last thing Cyndi needed, he forced himself to relax. Reaching out, he cupped her chin in his hand, smoothing his thumb over her cheek. “What else?"

She shrugged away from his hold. The comforter dipped, exposing the tops of her breasts, but she was so involved in her story, she didn't notice. “Anyone who tried to help me found themselves without a job or run out of town. All the staff turned a blind eye and no one outside the house would have believed me. I had everything—clothing, jewelry, a car. But, he picked all the clothing and jewelry to showcase his wealth and attract the son-in-law he wanted. He registered the car in his name, and although I had accounts at every store he deemed appropriate, but I had no money of my own. Not a cent."

"He kept you isolated.” It would have been easy to do, he mused. To the outside world, she'd had it all.

"Yeah. I wanted to go to college after high school, but he wouldn't hear of it. It was easier for him to just tell his friends that I was a spoiled debutante, who didn't want to go to school. It was easy for people to believe him. I applied to several colleges with the help of a teacher at school. A few months later, my teacher was let go from her position, and the colleges wrote back to say that my application had been denied. Seems my father contacted them and told them I had mental problems."

"That's insane.” Shamus was truly appalled by the depth of what Cyndi had suffered.

"Yes, it is.” She shifted so that she was sitting cross-legged on the bed and tucked the covers around her. “I was another one of his possessions. His to do with as he chose.” She rubbed her finger over one of the flowers printed on the material, sighing before raising her head to look at him. “That's why I did what I did with Burke."

Shamus hardly dared to breathe. He wanted to know what had gone on back then. He had his family's version, but he needed to know what had happened from Cyndi's perspective.

When he didn't say anything, she continued. “Burke rolled into town and you could tell he was tough and strong, not afraid of anything or anyone. That was very appealing."

"I imagine it was,” he murmured. For a girl who'd felt powerless her entire life, it would have been a huge enticement.

"Then I found out he had money. I thought if he were attracted to me, then he might marry me. But he was interested in your sister.” When she glanced at him, her face was blank. “I'm not proud of what I did or how I acted, but I didn't know what else to do.” She rubbed her hand over her face. He could see the fatigue etched there.

"It's okay."

"No.” She shook her head vehemently. “No, it's not. I hurt people back then with how I acted, but I had to keep up the facade or I paid. And believe me, hurt feelings aren't as bad as—” She broke off and looked away.

"As bad as a beating,” he finished.

She nodded. “He never hit me in the face. He couldn't damage the goods."

The way she talked about herself made his heart hurt. He wanted to yell and hit something, preferably her father, but he was dead. He reached for her then, unable to keep his distance any longer, but she shrank away from him.

"Let me finish this."

"All right.” He sat back, his arms aching to hold her, to comfort her. Yet, another part of him was proud of how she was laying this all out before him, not asking for any sympathy, or expecting it.

"I was desperate when I went to the diner that day. My father had found out Burke had lots of money, but he didn't think Burke was good enough to marry into the James family. His blood wasn't blue enough.” Cyndi gave a bitter laugh. “I thought if I said I was pregnant, Burke might take me away. I wasn't thinking straight. I didn't really have any feelings for Burke at all, beyond what I hoped he could do for me. As for your sister...” Cyndi sighed and shook her head. “I had nothing against her. Didn't really know her except to see her. But she was standing in the way of what I thought I needed to escape."

She broke off and went silent for a few long seconds. “I knew what would be waiting for me that day when I went home. But Burke hadn't touched me and was in love with your sister."

His hands clenched into fists as he listened to her story unfold. “What happened?” His voice was hoarse, his throat tight.

"By the time I came home, word had already reached him of what had happened. He dragged me into his study by my hair, threw me to the floor, and beat the hell out of me with his belt. I'd committed the biggest sin of all—shaming the family name in public."

"Jesus.” Shamus reached for her, pulling her into his arms. This time, he didn't give her the option of refusing. He needed to hold her in his arms for his own comfort as much as hers.

"When I came to, I dragged myself upstairs and packed a knapsack. I'd managed to save a hundred dollars over the years, a dime here, a quarter there. I knew my father had to leave on a business trip the next day. So the next morning, I snuck downstairs with my knapsack. I overheard some of the staff saying he'd had a visit from Burke before he'd left. I was terrified. I drove over to your sister's house and apologized to her, then I left my car parked in front of sheriff's office and took the bus out of town."

"Where did you go?” He could feel her shaking in his arms and pulled the comforter tighter around her.

"To my Aunt Verna. I barely knew her, but she was my mother's sister. I didn't have anywhere else to go. I called her from the bus station and she came and got me. She took me to the hospital right away and got pictures and records, filing several copies with various lawyers before my father showed up. She basically blackmailed my father in order to keep him away. If he stayed away from me, no one would ever know he was a monster."

Shamus felt sick to his stomach. The man should have paid for what he'd done. He hadn't realized he'd said it aloud until she stiffened in his arms.

"No. With his money and connections, he'd have gotten off. At that point, all I wanted was for him to stay away from me. Aunt Verna wasn't afraid of him.” Shamus could hear the awe and wonder in her voice. “Everyone else I'd ever met was cowed by my father, but not Verna Marks Mitchell. Even when he threatened her livelihood, she just laughed at him and told him she knew a hell of a lot more about him than he could imagine. It seems my mother had told her a few things over the years. Aunt Verna had copies of documents stashed all over the place with instructions to have them released if anything ever happened to her or to me."