Free Utterly Devoted by Regina Scott

could hobble the rest of the way. He seated himself gingerly across from Eloise on the brown velvet upholstery and bit back a grunt of pain as the coach jolted forward.
    She frowned, dark brows gathering. “Your knee appears to be swelling.”
    He leaned forward to check. The bleeding seemed to have stopped, but what he could see through the rent in his trousers was raw and puffy. He straightened and offered her an encouraging smile. “Ah, well. You never said the tests would be easy.”
    Her exquisite eyes were clouded. “No, but I assure you, I did not intend to cripple you.”
    “Merely castrate me?”
    He watched as the color surged up her cheeks. “Surely any number of fathers and husbands have tried the same,” she retorted, head high.
    “No fathers,” he replied, “and only one husband.”
    Her gaze focused on her gloved fingers as they worried at the fabric of her soft navy gown. “Then the tale of your flight from London is true.”
    He leaned back, suddenly weary. “That depends. Which tale have you heard?”
    She glanced up to meet his gaze head on. “I was told you tried to seduce Lady Hendricks and were driven off by her husband at gun point.”
    He could feel his face settling into forbidding lines. “That is a lie.”
    “Then what is the truth?”
    The desire to tell her was strong, but he knew it would be a mistake. For one, it was doubtful she would see anything as the truth if it came from him. For another, he did not wish to start fresh gossip. “Did you meet Lord Hendricks before his happy demise?” he asked instead.
    “I did not have the pleasure.”
    “It would not have been a pleasure, but that is not the point. Since you have not met any of the participants in that little drama except me, I suggest you talk with someone you trust who was about the ton at that time.
    “Perhaps I shall,” she replied. The touch of defiance in her tone told him he had been right about whom she would believe.
    As she lapsed into silence, he found himself watching her. That close, he could see feather-fine lines at the edges of her eyes and mouth. They made her look too serious for her age. Had he put them there? Or had something else troubled her since he’d known her? He had to keep his arm pressed against his side so as not reach out and stroke away the worry. How sweet it would be to press his lips against her temple, to inhale the fragrance of her hair and feel it slide like satin through his fingers. But he was reformed and even if he weren’t she would never forgive him if he trifled with her again.
    But how tempting was that trifling. Some poet had once claimed that a man never forgot his first love. Jareth was more willing to quote poets than agree with them, but he found this sentiment to be true. He remembered more about Eloise than any other woman he had dallied with: the first time they’d met, the first time he’d touched her hand, their first kiss, the look of sweet yearning in her eyes when they’d parted. He did not think it had been love that motivated him five years ago, but he would not have been surprised had his feelings grown in that direction.
    “You are staring at me,” she said, shifting in her seat. “Am I so changed?”
    “In some ways,” he acknowledged. “In others, not at all. If I closed my eyes, we could easily be in the Darby chapel again.” She said nothing, but her reaction raised a chuckle from him. “Now you are staring.”
    She collected herself with obvious difficulty. “I am merely shocked that you remember.”
    “Of course I remember. Do you think me totally devoid of feeling?” When she did not answer, he shook his head. “I am not the monster you want to paint me, Eloise.”
    “Yes, you claim to have changed as well.”
    “In that, I have not changed. I’m no more a monster now than I was then.”
    She stiffened in her seat. “Then why did you leave me?” she blurted out.
    “Madam,” he replied, “I was driven off by a