Free Seduced At Sunset by Julianne MacLean Page A

was a lovely, charming, intelligent woman and the
daughter of a duke. She could have almost any man she wanted. What was wrong
with the men of England? Were they dense?
    “I was engaged once,” she said, “many years ago, but he
died.”
    Ah... “I am sorry to hear that.”
    “So was I. He was the great love of my young life, and I
was devastated by the loss of him. It took me a long time to recover from it,
and in some ways, I suppose I still haven’t. I never decided that I wouldn’t marry. At the time, I thought I would eventually find someone,
but it never happened. I am not bitter, though. It happened this way because I
haven’t invited anything different. I am fulfilled by my writing, which keeps
my imagination occupied, and I am blessed to be a Sinclair. My family is
tightly knit. I have children in my life—nieces and nephews who keep me
entertained. So I am never lonely or bored. There is no shortage of activity,
or love in my life.”
    “But the love of a family is not the same as this kind of
love.” He thrust his pelvis against the curve of her hip and felt a burst of
arousal when she wiggled to meet his stroke.
    “You’re quite right about that,” she said with a smile.
“Which brings me to ask the same question of you, sir. Why are you not married?
You are a desirable man and quite gifted... with your hands .”
    He was amused by her coquettish tone.
    “I was married once,” he told her, surprised that he had
not tried to dodge the question. “Like you, it was a long time ago.”
    “What happened?”
    It was not something he ever talked about with women, or
anyone else for that matter. At times it seemed like an event that had occurred
in someone else’s life, not his own.
    “She died while carrying our first child,” he explained.
“She was only a few months into the pregnancy. The doctors said the baby was
lodged in the wrong place, not in her womb where it should be. They only
discovered that afterwards, when I insisted upon an autopsy. They told me that
a tube had burst and she bled to death, from the inside. She was in a great
deal of pain in her final hours.”
    Charlotte laid her hand on his cheek. “I am so sorry. That
must have been horrific.”
    He nodded.
    In the years since, he had done his best to forget. It was
part of the reason why he left England for America—though not the whole
reason. There was so much more he simply could not say.
    “When did you learn to box?” she asked, changing the
subject, and for that, he was grateful.
    “In school. I couldn’t have been more than twelve when I
threw my first punch in a ring. It was a necessary skill back in those days
when we younger boys were bullied by the older ones. I quickly learned to
defend myself, however, and the bullying stopped after that.”
    “I can well imagine, if you hit then like you do now. Did
your parents know you were getting into fights?”
    “Yes.”
    “Even your mother? Didn’t she try to stop it?”
    He scoffed bitterly. “No.”
    Charlotte’s eyes narrowed with curiosity. “Are you and
your mother not close? I only ask because of how you shrugged in the boat this
morning when I mentioned her.”
    Drake inhaled so deeply, his ribcage expanded, which
caused Charlotte to lean back. “No, we are not close,” he said.
    “Why?”
    For a long while he toyed with Charlotte’s long, silky
hair, wrapping it around his fingers, then he told her everything she wanted to
know. “My father was a drunk,” Drake said, “and he beat me on a regular basis
until I was big enough to fight back. My mother did nothing to stop that
either, and I suppose I have always resented her for it.”
    “Did you not have any brothers to stand up for you?”
    “No, just two younger sisters, but they died of
diphtheria, both on the same day, if you can imagine that.”
    Charlotte regarded him with shock, then spoke with
compassion. “I am sorry to hear that.”
    He shook his head. “It was a long time ago. I was