Passion Over Time by KyAnn Waters, Natasha Blackthorne, Tarah Scott Read Free Book Online Page B

of his arousal faded.
    “I don’t have my own piano yet,” she said.
    “You could teach the children of the wealthy in their own homes, on their own pianos.”
    What the devil was he saying to her? His objective, when he entered this chamber, had been to convince her to become his latest mistress. Now he was advising her how to earn her own way teaching piano. But her earnestness had been compelling. It reminded him of his own secret passion when he’d been a young man. He’d wanted to become a naturalist and travel the world, cataloging all sorts of wondrous new species of animals and plants.
    But he couldn’t pursue a life like that. He’d been the Sexton heir and bore a responsibility to each and every person the business employed.
    When he’d become a supercargo on his father’s ships, he’d sublimated that desire and channeled it into sampling the various foods, cultures, and lovely women available in the different ports. When he’d inherited the business and his father’s personal wealth, all other possibilities had closed for him. He’d pushed all those personal ambitions down and forgotten the feeling of wanting a different life.
    Beth was making him remember it now.
    “I can’t,” she sighed. “My brother needs my help in his cobbler shop. He doesn’t like for me to spend too much time away. He’s not happy about my working for Mrs. Bickle as it is.”
    What the devil? Why would she sacrifice herself? And why did she pretend to be so naïve, so trusting? It didn’t fit with the Beth he’d come to know so far. So what kind of game was she playing at? Freedom? The girl didn’t seem to have one speck of freedom. Inhaling deeply, he struggled to keep his voice patient. “You’re into your majority. Why would you allow your brother to dictate your chosen employment?”
    “I have an obligation to my family.”
    “Your brother can hire more help.”
    “He can’t afford it.”
    “You can help pay for it out of the wages you earn teaching, instead of ruining your eyesight and”—he took her hand and kissed the palm—“your beautiful hands, slaving away making shoes, which, I’d wager all the sealskin in the Pacific, you loathe with every fiber of your being.”
    “Charlie tried to hire some apprentices but he says no one stitches as evenly as I do.”
    Damn, it wasn’t in his best interest to convince her. He wanted her as a happy and spoilt mistress, not an independent spinster. Yet her enthusiasm made him want to help her reach her dreams. Not trusting what he might say next, he released her hand, got up from the bed, went straight for the sideboard and poured a healthy dose of brandy into a glass.
    “Grey?”             
    He looked up and saw her dressed in his banyan, rolling up the too long sleeves, her silver-gilt hair shining against the dark blue fabric. Her eyes caught his, full of longing and abject sadness.
    She was trapped in a snare. Trapped by some sense of obligation to a situation that was draining her, killing her, little by little. Something caught in his chest, a peculiar pinching sensation. Just like that first day he’d met her.
    He ought to say nothing. But he couldn’t stop himself. He put the glass down. “All I hear are excuses.”
    “Are you angry with me?” she asked, her tone incredulous.
    Was he angry with her? Perhaps. Yet it was wholly irrational of him to feel that way. That was what she did to him. She stole his ability to be rational. He gave an inward sigh and tried to make his voice even. “I am trying to help you and you are fighting me.”
    “I am not fighting you; I am simply explaining my life.”
    “You are making excuses. Excuses won’t get you anywhere in this world.”
    “You don’t understand.” Her sad little voice cut a new wedge of anger and frustration through his skull. Anger at any brother who would allow his sister to sacrifice herself. Frustration at her for allowing it. She was clearly meant for better