Damon laughed, but dropped the subject. She was obviously not his type of women. He liked the quite, flirty type he could sneak off with. The type he had persuaded he would eventually love, if they would only give him time. But however annoying this country woman might be, she was different. And Damon had always loved to solve difficult puzzles.
He sighed deeply and began to cough a little. Aviva got him a glass of water which he gratefully took with a nod of his head. He thought of his mother. She and his father had been in arranged marriages, but no to each other. When they told their parents that they loved each other, of course his mother's parents had been very happy to send her off with a Duke to be. His father's parents, were not happy. Damon's mother was quite the beauty, but very poor.
However, they had eloped anyway. Damon grit his teeth. His mother had loved his father with all her heart just as she had loved him...but his father did not. He had beaten Damon and his brother as children and beaten his mother as well. The woman he claimed to love. Right.
"Love is false or love is ugly," he muttered to himself, half asleep. He was so tired...but he was tired of sleeping too.
He was also tired of thinking of his mother. He remembered the time he had hit a women when he had been drunk. That night, when he was alone, was one of the few times he remembered crying. He refused to become like his father who beat of women. Women like his mother.
"I'm of even hearing the word of so many people's mouths," he whispered to himself, unaware if he was really and truely conscious or not.
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