The Return of the Prodigal Read Online Free PDF Page A

wild in his arms, and now she was quiet, collapsed against his side, her blond hair splayed out, a sweet-smelling lock tickling at his chin.
    What would he do without her? It was only when she came to him, made love with him, that he could even pretend to be whole. Awake, aware.
    If only they could stay here, like this, forever. He longed to be a simple man, with simple needs.
    All his life had been a struggle. Well-cushioned, yes, but as with all of the Beckets, circumscribed by the past, a life spent always with one eye looking for the reappearance of that past. Always knowing theirs was an uncertain future.
    He’d wanted excitement, adventure. He’d wanted to be away from the constraints of Becket Hall, from the people who all carried the shadow of the past with them.
    Secrets to keep. Always, secrets to keep.
    Had Fanny run home to those secrets they both hated? Had she taken the Earl of Brede with her after the battle? Had she seen what he, Rian, had seen growing between them—that the love Fanny believed she’d felt for her adoptive brother had been a pale thing when compared to the love of a man for a woman? Brede loved Fanny, that had been obvious, and Rian had been glad, hopeful that the earl would take her away from Becket Hall, keep her safe.
    He wished Fanny well. He wished her happiness, and a quiet conscience.
    If he returned to Becket Hall? What would she feel then? A responsibility to him?
    Of course she would. She was Fanny, his sister of the heart, his twin of the heart, as they’d sometimes joked. She would feel responsible for him, insist on clinging to him, mothering him, protecting him…as if he were a child needing protection.
    He couldn’t let that happen. Life moved on. Didn’t his adoptive father always say that? Whether we wished it or not, life always moved on. Rian needed Fanny to move on with her life, find her own happiness, and not feel obligated to her maimed brother.
    And now there was Lisette.
    Lisette, always eager to help, eager to please, yet never maudlin in her sympathy for him. Lisette, the only real thing in his comfortable world of fantasy. Lisette, who wished to leave this place, this mindless, beautiful Limbo. He couldn’t remember all that she’d said, but he remembered the fear, very real in her beautiful blue eyes. She wanted to be gone, she wanted him gone.
    “Lisette?”
    “ Hmm? Don’t bother me, Rian Becket. I am floating here, and I rather like the sensation.”
    Rian smiled. “A pity, for it’s time to come back to earth. This afternoon? You said something about the man who owns this grand house. My benefactor. Your benefactor as well. You’re really afraid of him?”
    She pushed herself up onto one elbow. “I’m not afraid, Rian Becket. Your lost hand does not make you a cripple. But fear makes us all cripples. I won’t allow myself to fear anything or anyone.”
    “Yes, well, thank you. That was quite profound, and you may consider me thoroughly chastened and ashamed. Now tell me again about this man, now that my mind feels clearer.” He kissed her cheek. “You do that to a person, you know. Wake me, feed my fantasies. But now to be serious. What is his name?”
    “He is known as the Comte Beltrane. Neuveille Beltrane. He offered to make me his ward when my parents were killed, but I insisted upon limiting his largesse to becoming my employer. He—”
    “Yes, unbelievable as it may seem, I remember all of that. But now you’re grown, and he’s looking at you in ways that displease you?”
    Lisette pulled a face. “He looks at me like this…” she said, narrowing her eyes and then opening her mouth in a small smile, licking her upper lip. “Like a dog, eager for a fat loin chop to fall off the spit at his feet.”
    Rian threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, surely he doesn’t look all that obvious, Lisette. Does he drool, as well?”
    She shrugged, again that wordless but so meaningful Gallic shrug. “I find excuses to go back to my work.