I confess I love romance novels in which there is a tortured hero, because I think any love story needs conflict, some struggle that must be overcome, and inner conflict is, for me, the most compelling. I love human characters, real characters, who are imperfect and wrestle with themselves, because these are people with whom I can relate. Heroines are always conflicted, but when the hero is truly tortured, you cannot help but feel a pull to him. You yearn to soothe him and fix him, and you’re awash with empathy for his plight – such powerful feelings which make you keen to read on.

For me, the attraction with tortured heroes began back in my teenage years with two characters created by two very famous literary sisters:

Mr Rochester, Jane Eyre: Such a mysterious man, and surely the original silent-and-brooding type. As a reader, you cannot help but feel a little wary of him on your first reading, and yet you are unable to stop yourself willing Jane and he to find a way to be together.

“No – no – Jane; you must not go. No – I have touched you, heard you, felt the comfort of your presence – the sweetness of your consolation: I cannot give up these joys. I have little left in myself – I must have you. The world may laugh – may call me absurd, selfish – but it does not signify. My very soul demands you: it will be satisfied: or it will take deadly vengeance on its frame.” 

Heathcliff, Wuthering Heights: A tragic hero if ever there was one. Charlotte Brontë’s writing allows us to get right into his mind and see at first hand the torment he endures as a result of cruel circumstance and his love/hate relationship with Cathy.

“Be with me always – take any form – drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! it is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!”

When the story for my novel Burning Embers first started taking shape in my mind, I knew at once that Rafe, the hero, would be a tortured soul. He is an honourable man, a loving man, but he is entirely impeded. First, by his reputation as a womaniser and heartless exploiter of Coral’s father. Second, and far worse, by a dark secret he locks away in his heart – a secret that so pains and shames him, he feels himself undeserving of love.

A hand pinched Rafe’s heart, and his eyes clouded. Could the idealistic, platonic love he had nurtured for her portraits turn into something deep and even more wonderful: the salvation to his jaded life? But how could a man with years of baggage behind him aspire to be with such innocence and purity? And how could Coral ever be interested in Rafe when general society condemned him for, among other things, disloyalty to a man who was adored and respected by everyone and who had lent him a helping hand? Her own father, no less. Coral had everything going for her: beauty, a promising career, money, and, by the looks of it, courage and character. Surely her heart was already engaged, and she wouldn’t spare him a thought? Anyhow, as she’d said, his reputation had preceded him. And if he should try to defend himself to her…to what end? She would never believe him, and in any case, he had too much of a past for her to take on. No, it would be wrong to attempt to see her again or to entertain thoughts about things that could never be.

Poor Rafe; my heart ached for him as I wrote. Could I write a book with a hero who had no emotional baggage; who was perfectly at ease with himself and had no lessons to learn, no difficult obstacles to find the courage to tackle? No, I don’t think so.