Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

E ster collapsed to the ground, her hands covering her face, trying to block out the overwhelming shame that crashed over her in waves. Saying those terrible words aloud to Julian, of all people, made her whole body tremble with fear—fear of rejection, fear of disgust. She sobbed, hiccupping, clutching one hand against her chest in desperate anguish.

The memories of that night stormed her mind, merciless and unrelenting, dragging her back into the horrors she'd tried so hard to forget. She could feel it all again—the terror, the helplessness, her frantic struggle to escape. Her nails dug into the musty planks beneath her, grasping for something, anything, to anchor her to the present, to pull her back to reality.

But Julian remained utterly still. He stood there, jaw clenching and unclenching, his gaze fixed somewhere far away. A shadow crossed his face, something she could only describe as regret. Regret for taking her in, perhaps, regret for being here with her at all. The notion sliced through her, cold and cutting. He was disgusted by her. She could see it in his silence.

"I… I didn't want it," she whispered, the words barely escaping her lips, as if to justify something. "In the summer, I was promised to another. Lord Kenneth Lowe of Handbridge. He was cousin to Kingsley, and it was he who invited him to the ball at which he… I didn't want it. He knew that."

Silence. Julian's fists clenched at his sides, knuckles whitening, yet still, he refused to meet her eyes. He didn't believe her.

Slowly, painfully, Ester rose to her feet, her legs weak and unsteady beneath her. She wiped at her tears with the back of her hand, trembling as she forced herself to stand. Weak and uncertain, she faced Julian, pressing her heels into the wood to steady herself. Her teeth sank into her lower lip until she tasted the coppery tang of blood.

Yet, in spite of it all, she held herself as proudly as she could. "I don't expect you to take my word," she whispered, her voice on the cusp of breaking apart again. "But I would rather… rather you not tell anyone I said this. I will go now."

With that, she turned on her heel, summoning all the strength she had left. She would run. She had no choice. She would find shelter somewhere—anywhere—far from this place, before—

"Stay."

She froze. Footsteps approached, but still, she could not turn around.

"Please. Stay ."

Then, his hand closed around her wrist, and the world stopped.

The touch sent a jolt through her. She whirled around, her chest heaving, eyes wide. "Don't touch me!" she cried, her voice trembling, but she didn't pull away. Her fists flew to his chest, her frustration pouring out in each feeble strike. "Let me go! Let me leave!"

But Julian didn't move. He stood firm, his broad chest absorbing her blows, his gaze unwavering as he watched her unravel before him. His silence only fueled her desperation, her fists pounding harder, though they held none of the force she pretended they did.

"Why won't you let me go?" Her voice cracked as her anger crumbled, leaving only a quiet, helpless plea. "I don't want to be here. I don't—"

Her hands faltered, falling limply against him. She collapsed into his chest, tears soaking into his coat as her body shook with sobs. His arms came around her, not restraining, but holding.

His chest was warm and steady, the rise and fall of his breath calming even as she trembled against him. The scent of him—rich and clean—invaded her senses, and despite everything, despite the weight of her shame, her body responded to him. She hated herself for it, for the way her pulse quickened beneath his touch, for the way her fingers clung to him even as her mind screamed to run.

"You… you needn't pity me," she finally mumbled. It was all she could say. All she had left.

Julian's grip on her tightened, his finger crooking beneath her chin to gently lift her face to his. His touch was tender, but his gaze—his gaze was something else entirely. Dark, searching, and full of a heat that made her breath hitch.

"I do not pity you," he murmured, his voice low, dangerous. "Not in the slightest. You have been through hell. But that does not change how I see you. It never could."

Ester shook her head, trying to break free of his grip again, but he held her firm. "You don't understand," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I'm… I'm broken, Julian. You can't—"

"You are not broken." His words cut through her like a blade, sharp and direct, but filled with an aching tenderness. "You have been hurt, yes. But that doesn't make you any less of the strong, remarkable woman I've come to know."

Her bottom lip quivered, and she lowered her gaze, the tears threatening to spill again. How could he say such things? How could he look at her and not see the mess she was, the stain that had been left on her soul? She had lived with it for so long, worn it like a scarlet letter, convinced it would forever mark her as tainted.

"But I… I don't deserve this," she whispered.

"Deserve what?" His lips were so close now that his breath mingled with hers. "Kindness? Passion? Love?"

She opened her mouth to reply, but the words never came. Instead, his lips descended on hers, stealing her breath. Stealing her every thought. The kiss was gentle at first, testing, but it quickly deepened, growing fierce and demanding. His hand slid into her hair, angling her head to take more, and she surrendered, her body pressing into him, craving his warmth. Her hands clutched at the collars of his shirt. She was drowning in him—his scent, his touch, the taste of him driving her mad with desire.

Her back met the cool stone wall behind her, but she barely registered it, too consumed by the heat that surged between them. Julian's body pressed into hers, his chest solid and unyielding, pinning her to the wall in the most delicious way.

"Julian…" His name was a breathless whisper on her lips, half plea, half surrender.

He pulled back, just enough to meet her gaze again, his breathing ragged, his eyes burning with need. "If I can't make you see how wrong you are," he muttered, his voice intoxicatingly low, "then let me show you."