Because We Belong (Because You Are Mine 3)

“All right,” she said, flustered. “Give me a moment.”

A minute later, she opened the door and managed a weak smile.

“Come in,” she murmured, waving toward the seating area that took up half of the large main room of the suite.

“Thank you,” Gerard said, giving her an apologetic glance before he stepped over the threshold. Francesca closed the door, pausing to cinch the robe she wore tighter. She’d washed with soap and very cold water and waited for her breathing to even, but her skin still felt prickly and her cheeks warm. Was Gerard going to make interrupting her masturbation a habit?

It’s not his fault. It’s yours for being so stupid and relenting to your memories . . . to your need so easily.

She cleared her throat, banishing the thought, and followed Gerard to the seating area. She sat on a chair across from where he’d settled on the couch. He was dressed similarly as he had been last night, except tonight his pajama bottoms were black and his robe a deep blood red. He scraped his thick hair off his forehead with his fingers in an anxious gesture and studied her closely.

“Gerard? What is it? Is something wrong?”

“I’m fine. How are you doing?” he asked intently.

“Very well, thank you,” she said, laughing at his pressured, formal tone.

He smiled. “Considering the circumstances, I mean.”

“Yes. I know what you meant,” she conceded. Her polite, pointed glance told him she was ready to hear why he’d insisted upon talking to her.

“Again, forgive me for intruding. It’s just that’s it’s hard to talk to you with the others always there. Privately, I mean.” His gaze traveled over her face and ever so briefly lowered to the small patch of exposed skin at her chest above her closed robe.

Men know. Many of them anyway.

She shifted uneasily at the recollection of Ian’s words and the knowledge of what she’d been doing before Gerard arrived.

“Why do you need to speak to me alone?” she asked.

“It’s this proposed trip to Belford Hall, the painting commission—have you given Anne a certain answer about whether or not you agree to it?”

“Not entirely, no, even though she acts—”

“As if it’s a decided deal,” Gerard said with a dry smile. “Classic Anne, to operate as if her wishes were already reality. It works amazingly well for her. Usually.” She noticed a lock of waving hair had fallen appealingly onto his forehead when he’d raked his hand through it. She returned his smile with effort.

“What’s the trip have to do with why you wanted to speak with me?”

He leaned forward, his thighs parting slightly, his elbows on his knees. His sleeves fell back, revealing strong forearms sprinkled with dark hair.

“It’s just . . . well, do you really think it’s a good idea? To go to Ian’s childhood home, with the state of things between you two being what they are?”

Her smile fell. She blinked past her shock at his words. “I honestly hadn’t thought of that. I was thinking of it being a getaway . . . a change of scenery. But of course you’re right. Belford Hall was Ian’s home. It will be again, someday.”

“Francesca,” Gerard began hesitantly. His face suddenly tightened in frustration and he hissed something she couldn’t quite catch beneath his breath. “What exactly is the state of things?” he asked in a pressured rush.

“The state of things?” she repeated stupidly.

“Between you and Ian,” he clarified. She just stared. “Have you officially broken your engagement?”

“How could I possibly do that, when I haven’t spoken to him in over six months?”

His head went back in sudden understanding. “So it’s not officially off. He didn’t . . . say anything?”

“Before he disappeared?” She heard the edge to her tone and inhaled, trying to calm herself. She felt very thin-skinned for some reason, exposed and vulnerable. Gerard didn’t deserve her anger. He was just asking what Anne, James, and he had probably been burning to know all along. “No,” she replied more calmly. “One day, Ian and I were happy and looking forward to our marriage. The next, Ian’s mother was dying and everything changed.”

Gerard nodded slowly. “It wasn’t just Helen’s death, though, was it? It was this business Lucien revealed to him, about being his brother,” he said, his brow furrowed in concentration.

She just nodded, feeling uncomfortable at her lack of awareness of just how much Anne and James had told Gerard about Ian. It struck her that both of them were poking around in the dark for morsels of information.

“Lucien seems like a very smart, decent guy,” Gerard said. “I’m a little confused as to why it was so upsetting to Ian to discover he was his half brother. I feel as if I’m missing something there. Is it something to do with their father?”

Francesca’s expression remained impassive. So, Anne and James hadn’t revealed the toxic truth about Trevor Gaines to Gerard.

“There is more to the story, but it’s Ian’s story to tell. I hope you can understand my not talking about it. I’m sorry, Gerard.”

“Do you think I’m not used to being odd man out when it comes to my family?” he asked drolly, but then noticed her confusion. “Anne and James have said much the same to me in regard to Ian. I understand, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy about it. I don’t appreciate being left in the dark. Ian isn’t only my cousin. My house is less than fifteen miles from Belford. I spent a great deal of time with Ian, when I was a young man and he was a boy. Both of us found ourselves parentless at approximately the same time. I feel like an older brother to him,” he said, frowning. She could feel his mind working as he studied her face. “So you’re still looking out for Ian? Protecting his secrets, even in these circumstances?”