Free Wedding Night With the Earl by Amelia Grey

fire-warmed blanket on a cold night and rushed heated color to her cheeks.
    To counter the way she suddenly felt, she laughed softly and said, “Your compliments never stop, do they, my lord. Still, I’m glad to know you are enjoying the food.”
    “I’m quite pleased with the food and the company, Miss Wright.”
    And so was she.
    Katherine picked up her wine, sipped, and thought on what he’d said while the servant cleared away their plates.
    “What happened to your leg?” Lord Greyhawke asked as the servant moved on.
    Katherine replaced her glass, picked up the starched white napkin, and dabbed at one corner of her mouth. “An accident,” she said, not allowing her gaze to meet his.
    “What kind?”
    “Carriage,” she said, fixing her gaze on the flickering flame of the candle in front of her.
    “Was it recently?”
    “No.”
    Suddenly, she was the one who was uncomfortable. She knew people wondered about her injury. It was natural to be curious, but the earl was the first person in quite some time to be brave enough to query her about it. Once again reminding her he was not a gentleman she could take lightly in any conversation.
    “Was it a long time ago?”
    “Yes.”
    “Were you a child?”
    “Yes.”
    “How old were you?”
    “Seven.”
    “Your answers are short,” he said in a sympathetic tone.
    She remained quiet, staring at the light glimmering off the wineglass.
    “And you aren’t looking at me,” he added in a low tone. “Does it still upset you to talk about it?”
    “Yes,” she answered truthfully.
    How could it not?
    Her entire family was killed. Her father. Her mother and the baby she was expecting. Her two older sisters and her brother. All gone from her life in an instant.
    “It’s been over twelve years now,” she said. “I know it should no longer bother me, but there are times I remember every detail of it as clearly as if it had been yesterday, and I just have to banish them from my mind.”
    “I can understand that,” he said softly. “How did it happen?”
    Before she could answer, a servant placed a piece of baked white fish surrounded by five delicate oysters in front of her. The connection she’d momentarily felt with him was broken. He was probing but gentle. For an instant, she’d actually wanted to answer his question.
    Katherine inhaled deeply and then turned to look at him, wondering why she had opened up to him and said anything at all. She never spoke about the accident or her family to anyone. Long ago, she’d discovered that if she didn’t talk about her family, if she didn’t try to remember them, it didn’t hurt so badly.
    “Lord Greyhawke,” she said, adding more censure to her voice than she had intended, “do you want me asking personal questions about your past?”
    His brows flew up defensively and he shifted in the chair. Even though he was obviously taken aback by her question, he answered calmly, “No, I can’t say I do.”
    “And neither do I want you asking me.” She picked up her fork and cut into the steaming fish.
    “I get the distinct impression that you enjoy giving me information a little at a time.”
    “You would be wrong.”
    They ate in silence for a short time, but finally he said, “You think I was intruding and prying?”
    “Prying?” she repeated. She saw no cruelty or eagerness for gossip in his expression; still, she buffered her words by saying, “Perhaps. Or maybe you’re just as curious as the next person as to why an otherwise very strong and healthy young lady must use a cane to walk.”
    “You certainly haven’t let it undermine your self-confidence.”
    Just as she was getting ready to tell herself the earl was an arrogant man, caring only about what he wanted and not worth her time, he surprised her. This time by giving her guarded approval. She remained quiet but gave him a hint of a smile before lifting a forkful of the fish into her mouth.
    “Was it broken?” Lord Greyhawke asked, scooping two