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placing his hands on the mattress on either side of her, his lips so close to hers they could breathe the same air. “There are going to be many things you will do for the first time tonight.”
    If he’d meant to scare her, he’d done a good job. The color drained from her face. She eased back and glanced around the room as if reminding herself of where she was . . . and why.
    Her reluctance rekindled his temper. Damn her for preying on his conscience. If he were a gentleman, he’d let her go.
    But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. They’d come too far. She’d teased him years ago with empty promises. Well, now it was time to pay the piper. After all, he was a man who’d become accustomed to taking what he wanted.
    Dane stood. “It’s too late now to cry off, Jemma,” he said. Taking the hem of his shirt in hand, he pulled it up over his head.

Chapter 6
    I t was too late. Jemma couldn’t have moved if she’d wanted to. All she could do was stare—and not only because, in taking off his shirt, Dane had revealed a muscled, hard body. He was still lean and strong, as he’d been in youth. In contrast to other men she’d seen bare-chested, including her husband and her brother, Dane’s muscles had definition, like those of a common laborer.
    But what claimed her full attention was the angry scar that ran from an inch above his navel, across his chest, and up to his shoulder. It appeared as if someone had attempted to split him wide open.
    Jemma forgot her self-consciousness. The haze of seduction evaporated.
    For a moment, she was so shocked she could only stare. Then, tears welling in her eyes, she came to her knees.
    Dane tensed, as if he’d forgotten how shocking that angry scar could be. Now, she had reminded him.
    He started to take a step back. Jemma reached out to stop him. “I—” she started, and words failed her. What could she say? She’d been in no way prepared for the sight. Here was something the gossips did not know about.
    She placed her hand, palm flat, on the scar where it crossed his heart. He did not flinch. The beat of his pulse was as strong as ever.
    Slowly, Jemma ran her hand down, following the scar, and around his torso. She used both arms to embrace him, laying her head against his body. His skin felt warm and vibrant beneath her cheek.
    At first, he said and did nothing. Then, gently, his hands came down to her shoulders. “It was a long time ago, Jemma. I rarely notice it.”
    She looked up at him, her throat tight. “You don’t understand.”
    â€œThen explain.”
    For a second, she considered denying his request. She’d learned long ago to keep her true thoughts and feelings to herself. But what did it matter now? She and Dane were practically strangers to each other, strangers who had once shared a youthful, innocent view of the world.
    She lightly touched the scar at the point where it started above his navel. It was as he said, he no longer felt the pain . . . but at one time he had, and the memory must still be within him, hidden deep. She knew how it was.
    â€œI had thought you had the perfect life,” she confessed. “You left Chipping, traveled the world, and came back wealthy. It all sounds simple . . . but there is more to the story, isn’t there? There’s always more.”
    He didn’t mistake her meaning. “Do you have scars, Jemma?”
    She shook her head and smiled. These were her secrets, and, although they were nothing as dramatic as the dangers he must have faced, her scars ran too deep to share. Instead, she realized that tonight she had the opportunity to relive the dream, to be as she’d once been, unscathed by life and full of dreams.
    In one fluid motion, Jemma released her hold and stood up on the bed. Her feet sank into the deep mattress as she kicked off first one shoe and then another, pushing them off the side