“Mr. Roth, I can talk till I’m blue in the face, and you won’t understand any more than you do now. If you truly want to understand my gift, then give me your hand.”
His eyes latched onto the tip of my nose. “Heal yourself instead.”
I dropped my gaze and mumbled to the wet grass that surrounded my skirts. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
Just a week ago I would have told him that the power only went one way. But that was before my great-grandmother had shown me otherwise. “Because I’m still learning how to,” I admitted sullenly. “So if you want another demonstration, it’s your hand or nothing.”
A battle raged across his face, but after a moment he did as I asked. With no need to hide my gift, I bathed the wound with power. James flinched at the first touch of warmth and tried to pull free. I held on, restoring the skin to pristine order in less than a minute. When I finally let go, his eyes were so round he looked like an owl. Or perhaps like he had just swallowed one. Holding the hand up, he opened and closed his fingers several times, stretching the skin along the back.
“The pain is gone,” he said, clearly awed.
“That’s because I healed the nerves, in addition to the skin, muscles and vessels. Your hand is good as new.”
He flexed the fingers again.
“Probably better,” I added, “since you were developing a strain from holding the reins for so long today. I took care of that as well.”
The hand fell to his side and he looked at me. “This isn’t humanly possible,” he said softly, searching every square inch of my face. “What are you, Miss Kilbrid?”
I clicked my tongue. “Patience, Mr. Roth. It’s my turn to ask a question.”
He sucked in a quick breath as though to protest. Then seemed to have a change of heart. “Fine. What do you want to know?”
“Why do dislike being home so much?”
This time, the blood seeped past the cravat to stain his fair cheeks a dark red. “Because my elder brother is a muddleheaded idiot.” He fell silent and I gave him an expectant look, in no wise satisfied with the answer. James heaved an irritated sigh and scrubbed a hand across his forehead. “The Roths have held the title of baronet for the past three hundred years in Branbury. We were a prosperous family for most of that time, right until my father attained the title. He was a foolish man, prone to all manner of vice and lasciviousness, and what he didn’t gamble or drink away, was spent on a lifestyle to befit a king. At his death, the baronetcy passed greatly diminished to my half brother.”
James closed his eyes and exhaled a long, slow breath. When he looked back to me, I saw the pain that came with the memories. “My brother, Sir John Roth, Baronet, has a heart of gold. He also has the common sense to match my horse. Born of my father’s first wife, he is thirty years my senior, and under his stewardship, the estate has gone from greatly diminished to bankrupt.” James shook his head. “He really tried, Miss Kilbrid, and there I cannot fault him.”
I hung on every word, waiting for more once James fell silent. When none came, I took the risk to prod him further. “Is this why you became Henry’s secretary?”
Something hard glinted in his eyes. “Lord Fitzalan and I have been friends since childhood. When money ran out at home for my education, his father saw that all the bills were paid and then some. Neither the duke nor his lordship expected anything in return, but I refused to continue living on their charity.” James’s gaze drifted over my shoulder, only to snap back harder than before. “Accepting the position also freed me from ever returning to Branbury. I knew the estate would be lost to creditors once my brother died, and I had no desire to see the woman who put the last nail in our financial coffin.”
Confusion bunched between my brows, which James seemed to find strangely amusing. “My brother’s wife,” he clarified, “a lowborn fortune hunter who thought she’d found a pot of gold the day she married Sir John. The estate may have been salvaged if we’d taken immediate action upon my father’s death, and having a good mind for business, I outlined a plan to turn our fortunes around. But she would have none of my interference.” The humor receded, leaving only sadness behind. “You see, Miss Kilbrid, she thought I meant to rob her blind as I am next in line to inherit the title.”
A breeze lifted a branch, sending down a small shower of rain that had collected on the leaves. James shook the water from his hair. I just stood there, water dripping down my neck as this newest information found root. “And this is why you hate me, Mr. Roth?” The answer was so obvious, I needn’t have even asked. And with my luck, the woman was probably Irish to boot.
James considered the question. “Yes, Miss Kilbrid, it is exactly why I hated you.”
The subtle change surprised me. Hated? As in no longer?
He cut me off the second I opened my mouth for clarification. “It’s my turn.”