my father loved her, but he didn’t. Unfortunately, she loved him, and it ruined her.”
Mila didn’t quite grasp the depth of his mother’s disappointment, but she knew when Jack was upset, and when he was angry. That his father had been mean to his mother upset him and made him really angry, and that was a bad thing. “I’m sorry.”
He flashed her a slight smile before returning his attention to the street. “You’re sweet, you know that? You’re probably the nicest person I’ve ever met.”
Warmth blossomed inside her. It was like pleasure, but more—as if her heart were being blown up like a balloon. She smiled—and then remembered her manners. “Thank you.”
“That’s why I’m going to make certain you are never in a position to be dependent on a man. You’ll never go hungry. No one will look at you as less than what they are. No one will ever take away your sweetness.”
She looked at him. “Like your father did your mother?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t understand. Why would you even want me to marry someone of the upper class, then?”
“They’re not all awful. His Grace is all right. I want you to be comfortable and taken care of.”
“I can take care of myself,” she said, as the lamps of the carriage illuminated familiar streets. They were almost home.
Jack chuckled. “Physically, yes. But there are still a lot of things you need to learn about the world, poppet.”
“Like what?”
“Like that people lie. They steal. People can hurt you emotionally as well as physically. It’s worse than being hit.”
Mila frowned. “Who hurt you, Jack?”
For a moment, there was an odd vulnerability in his eyes, but then it was gone. “No one.” He reached across the leather seat and took her hand. “I promise you that I will never hurt you—not intentionally. No matter what happens now or in the future, you can always come to me. I will always be here for you. Do you understand?”
She nodded. “I understand.”
But she didn’t, not really. If she had, she would have known that Jack was lying again.
* * *
For the first time in the two decades he’d been alive, Jack Dandy couldn’t think.
Jack could always think. Thinking—plotting, playing out every scenario—was what had kept him alive and built him a fortune. He started thinking the moment he woke up and sometimes he even thought in his dreams. Certainly no girl had ever interfered with the process before.
Not even Treasure.
Mila’s lips turned his brain to gruel. No thoughts, only instinct, and instinct told him to enjoy this a little while, even though his conscience screamed in protest. His arms went around her waist, pulling her tight against him. His hands splayed across her back, feeling the movement of her muscles beneath cloth and skin. She was warm and soft and tasted like peppermint.
And he was not a good man.
Her fingers twisted in his shirt, tearing through the soft cotton as if it were nothing more than candy floss. She could easily crush his bones with those hands. The thought vanished as quickly as it had appeared—nothing more than a flicker in his mind. One of his hands came up and fisted in her wild hair—it felt like silk against his skin.
A loud shredding noise filled the silence—she’d torn his shirt completely open. Warm fingers found their way beneath to touch his chest, roam over his stomach and ribs. He shivered. Her hands moved up to his shoulders, shoving the ruined garment down his arms.
Mila was trying to undress him. Mila.
Mila, who he had first found in a box—not even fully formed. She’d been monstrous and heartbreaking. Guilt had made him take her in and look after her, but something else made him let her stay. Responsibility was only part of it. Watching her grow and change made his head spin, it had all happened so fast. He tried to keep up, but he had to constantly remind himself that, while she was childlike, she grew in maturity by leaps and bounds. She was gorgeous and looked like a young woman. Pretty soon she was going to be just that, but not yet. And he had no right to take advantage of her curiosity.
Logic and sense returned with a vengeance. It didn’t matter that she felt and tasted like a dream. Didn’t matter that she made his heart pound or his limbs tremble. She was his ward. His responsibility. It was his duty to protect her, not to treat her like one of his girls. She was so much better than that. Better than him. She was naive and sweet and good. He would not be the one who ruined that.
But bloody hell, he wanted to.
Jack put his palms against her shoulders and pushed. Her metal skeleton made her heavier than she looked, and stronger, too. Still, he managed to put a couple of inches between them, which was just enough to break the kiss. The moment his lips left hers he felt a profound sense of loss that was both awesome and terrifying. Damnation, what was that feeling?
“Stop, poppet.”
“Don’t call me that.” She tried to pull him close again, but he stepped back, and she ended up with nothing but a strip of his shirt in either hand. She looked at him, eyes wide and full of hurt confusion. She didn’t understand, did she? No, of course she wouldn’t. So smart in many ways, but the subtleties of humanity still escaped her grasp. She wouldn’t understand that he couldn’t treat her like that; she would only know that he’d pushed her away.
“We can’t do this, Mila,” he told her. “Do you understand that?”
“But I thought you liked it.”
A strangled laugh lurched in his throat. Liked it? Liked didn’t even begin to describe how he felt, which was all the more reason to walk out of this room right bloody now.
“It doesn’t matter what I like. What matters is what’s right.”
She frowned and shook her head. “I don’t understand. You liked it. I liked it. How can that not be right?”
He swore to himself. How could he make her understand when she hated all the bollocks about rules and expectations? “You’re right, you don’t understand, and I don’t know how to make you. I just can’t.”
“You could with your doxy.”
“You’re not like her.” No, she certainly wasn’t. “You’re not the same as those girls.” She had the world laid out before her. He could make sure she had an education, employment if she wanted. And when the time came, he’d pay all the right people to make certain she found her way into good society and caught the eye of a man who might someday deserve her.
Mila nodded. “No, I’m not. It’s all right, Jack. I understand. I’m sorry about your shirt.”
His shirt? He didn’t care about his shirt. He had other shirts. He cared about her. “It’s all right, poppet. I can’t imagine what it’s like for you, with all these changes that have been happening in the past weeks.” She’d gone from machine to
