ended on a choked note as he snatched her hand.
“So much,” she said huskily. Her fingers curled hard around his. “So very, very much.”
He dragged her back into his arms. “I can’t believe it.”
“Believe it,” she whispered. She raised her hands to frame his face so she could look into his eyes. The blue was so pure
that he saw right to her gallant, steadfast soul. “I love you, Matthew. I will always love you.”
“And I love you, Grace.”
Such simple words to change his life. Yet after tonight, he’d never be the same man again.
He pressed his lips to hers. As her mouth blossomed under his, the frenzy left him. Only gratitude and love remained.
Love above all.
“Don’t send me away,” she said brokenly.
“Hush,” was all he said. He buried his face in her thick hair and wondered how he could live without her.
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ABC Amber LIT Converter http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
“Nothing you say will make me go.”
Since last night, Grace had repeatedly broached the subject of her departure. This morning she refused to let Matthew
sweep her objections aside or distract her with kisses.
Kisses and other things, she thought with a blush. They walked through the woods and she could tell from Wolfram’s
unconcerned nosing in the underbrush that Monks and Filey were nowhere near. Sunlight dappled the new leaves and lit
Matthew with gold. That seemed symbolic. He was gold to her, pure gold. She didn’t want to leave him. Ever. Even if it
meant staying a prisoner.
Matthew sighed heavily. “You heard my uncle. We have no choice.”
“Yes, we do.” She stepped in front of him, forcing him to stop and give her his complete attention.
“Grace, listen.” His voice roughened as he grabbed her arms in less than gentle hands. She wondered if he meant to shake
her but he just held her. His touch was hot, even through her satin sleeves. “Your life is too precious to risk.”
“Then come with me!”
“You know that’s impossible,” he said sharply. Anger sparked in his eyes. “There’s no point arguing.”
“If you can plot my escape, you can plot escape for both of us,” she said with equal force.
“I’ll die within these walls.” His grip tightened as if to add physical emphasis to his words. “I accepted that last year
when my uncle had Mary and her husband transported.”
The desolation he lived with every day opened a jagged rift in her heart. “How can I go on without you?” she asked in a
thin voice.
He lifted his hands away. His eyes were as flat as polished bronze and filled with so much love and pain, she had to bite
back a cry of distress.
“You’re too strong not to,” he said softly.
How wrong he was. She wasn’t strong at all. She blinked back tears. Heavens, all she seemed to do these days was cry.
“I’m not strong.”
“Yes, you are. You know you are.” His voice was impossibly deep and she seemed to hear him in her blood as much as
with her ears. “You stood up to your father. You stood up to Josiah. God, you even stood up to my uncle. My one comfort
in sending you away is that I know nothing will break you.”
“I won’t go.”
“Yes, you will. You know what it will cost me if my uncle harms you.”
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ABC Amber LIT Converter http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
She glared at him. “That’s not playing fair.”
“I’m not playing fair, my love. I’m playing to win.”
Furious denial surged. She wouldn’t let him do this. “Two can play at that game.”
She gripped his head between shaking hands and dragged him down until his mouth met hers. She’d tried to seduce him
against his will before and failed, but now she knew how vulnerable he was to her.
He didn’t fight, but his lips remained closed and his arms hung resolutely by his sides.
She wasn’t going to let him win.
She curled her arms around his back, pressing herself brazenly to his lean form. Against her breasts, his heart pounded,
belying his veneer of control. She had to break that control then she had to break him. Anything to make him abandon his
cruel plan to exile her.
Desperately, she licked and nibbled at his lips, nipping his bottom lip until he opened his mouth. Her tongue darted into
the dark interior, then lingered to taste and torment. He groaned deep in his throat and finally kissed her back, answering
each incursion of her tongue with his. He hauled her up in a furious embrace and took charge. She could no longer tell
who was the aggressor. His kiss held the same frantic passion she’d felt last night when she lay in his arms. She closed her
eyes while heat and darkness engulfed her.
“Jesus, Grace!” Abruptly the kiss ended. “This proves nothing!”
She opened her eyes to see him staring down at her with turbulent despair. He tried to step back but she caught one of his
hands before he could move away.
“Can you live without this?” she asked in a guttural voice. Without finesse, she shoved his palm against her breast. Her
nipple immediately tautened to a yearning point under his hand. “Or this?” Roughly, she reached forward to cup the front
of his trousers. He was already hard and eager. She stroked his sex and felt him swell under her touch.
Once she’d never have summoned courage to do this. Love made her bold. And desperate.
Briefly, he resisted then the hand on her breast curved to shape her flesh. She sighed and leaned into the familiar
sweetness.
“No!” he said hoarsely, tearing himself away to stand a few feet distant. “I can’t live with the fact that you’re in danger.”
A hectic flush marked his prominent cheekbones and a muscle twitched spasmodically near his jaw.
She wrapped her arms around herself to counter the chill slowing her blood. “You can’t fight this,” she said in a frantic
rush. “You can’t fight me. I know you too well.”
“Yes, you do.” He raised a hand to prevent her headlong flight back into his arms. “Do you want to turn what we feel into
a weapon? We’ll end up destroying one another.”
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ABC Amber LIT Converter http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
“I can’t leave you.” She wanted to sound strong, invincible, but the words emerged as a choked plea. “Don’t make me
go.”
His face contracted with pain. “Let me save you, Grace. Give me this one gift.” Then in a low shaking voice, “For God’s
sake, allow me this if nothing else. I have nothing else.”
His last bleak statement cut through her resistance like a knife through butter. She fought back tears. She wouldn’t cry.
She wouldn’t cry.
Acrid shame flooded her. Her defiance tortured him to his limits and he’d already borne so much. She expelled her breath
on a muffled sob. “You break my heart.”
He understood immediately that she’d acknowledged his right to banish her. He stepped forward to take her in his arms.
“I wish to God it could be otherwise, my darling.”
“When I’m free, I’ll get you out of here,” she said fiercely, tilting her head so she could see his face. It sliced her to her
soul to leave him, but what else could she do?
His expression was stark with sorrow. “Grace, forget me. If my uncle traces you, our efforts are for naught.”
“I won’t abandon you.”
“You have to,” he said with bitter finality. “It’s your only chance.”
“No,” she said just as obstinately. Before he could argue, and she knew he’d argue, she rushed on. “When do I go?”
“Tomorrow.”
No.
Horrified, she jerked free. “You can’t mean it!”
She’d only just reconciled herself to leaving. One more day? She couldn’t bear it.
“Every hour you’re here, the danger increases,” he said somberly. “My uncle already schemes to take you away or kill
you. By now, he’ll have convinced himself my threats mean nothing. Every hour, Filey gains courage. There’s a food
delivery tomorrow morning. Monks and Filey will open the gates. It’s how I escaped last time. I’ll create a diversion and
you’ll slip out.”
She wasn’t going to cry. She’d cried last night. She’d cried this morning. She was going to be brave. For the sake of her
own pride if nothing else.
“But tomorrow?” She struggled for composure.
“It’s best,” he said with implacable softness and passed her the handkerchief he fished out of his coat. “Now, here’s what
we should do.”
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ABC Amber LIT Converter http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
As Grace joined Matthew for dinner in the salon, she was aware this could possibly—was likely—the last evening they’d
spend together. Even if her vague plans of rescue came to fruition, their liaison was over once she left the estate. She
harbored no foolish illusions that a happy ending awaited in the world outside.
Yet again, the painful reality stabbed at her that a great lord and a destitute farmer’s wife had no future together. He must
take possession of his power and prestige. She must settle to life as a poor relation with Cousin Vere and his noisy, everincreasing family.
What about love?her heart cried in anguish.
Love. Yes, in this place, at this time, they loved each other. But while she’d love him until she died, his love was a
hothouse plant that couldn’t thrive beyond his prison. How could it when he’d seen nothing of the world?
She wished to heaven she could think of something to make him come with her. But her mind remained blank of
everything but grief.
One thing alone kept her from breaking down. One frail hope. She was Matthew’s only chance at freedom.
If she managed to evade their jailers. If Lord John didn’t track her down. If she found someone to believe her bizarre
story.
If.
If was all she had.
If. And tonight.
“Would you like more wine?” She reached for the decanter.
He shook his head. “No.”
Her hand dropped to the table near her plate. Her crowded plate. Neither of them had done justice to Mrs. Filey’s
excellent roast chicken.
“I want you in my arms,” he said in a low, intense voice.
He looked across the table at her, his eyes brimming with desire and understanding. He knew what it cost her to agree to
go. Because he knew, she stifled her impulse to insist again that she stay. She didn’t care what danger she faced as long as
she faced it at his side. In this strange place, she’d discovered both herself and a man worthy of her love. But he was hers
for a heartbreakingly brief time.
If only…
No, such thoughts weakened her. He fought as hard as she to maintain courage. She couldn’t dishonor that struggle by
playing the weak, hysterical woman. The memory of her tawdry behavior that morning made her cringe.
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ABC Amber LIT Converter http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
“Come, my love.” He pushed his chair back and extended one hand in her direction.
She took his hand and leaned over the table so she could whisper, “It’s so early. Do you think they’ll suspect?”
Matthew smiled, but like all his smiles tonight, it was tinged with ineffable sadness. “They’ll suspect I have an insatiable
appetite for you. They’d be right.”
“Show me.” Could that husky purr possibly be hers?
His eyes darkened to the color of old brandy and his fingers tightened on hers. “My pleasure.”
She left the salon on his arm with a decorum that lasted until they reached the shadowy staircase. Shaking with need,
Matthew backed her against the newel post and covered her mouth with his. She gasped with shock at the carnal hunger
she tasted on his tongue. His erection nudged her belly, solid, thick, seeking.
He needed her tonight more than he’d ever needed her before. The knowledge pierced her heart even as her body
softened and turned liquid under his tempestuous kiss.
He speared his fingers through her hair to hold her head for his kisses. Long, searching, wet kisses that beguiled her soul.
She ran her hands up and down his back, cursing the barrier of clothing between her and his naked skin. He was always
ready for her, but this desperation whipped her blood into a raging fever.
“I want you,” he growled into her lips.
He rubbed himself against her, leaving her in no doubt he was near the edge. The elaborate carving dug into her back but
she didn’t care, as long as he kept touching her. What did minor discomforts matter? No pain could compare with the pain
of the separation poised over their passion like a warrant of execution.
“Mrs. Filey might see us,” she moaned, even while her hand slid around his flank to touch his sex. He was massively
aroused. She nipped at his neck. He wasn’t wearing a cravat and the sight of his strong, bare throat had enticed her all
through dinner.
“Christ, Grace, you drive me mad,” he grated out, leaning his forehead against hers while he fought for breath. He tilted
his hips so his hardness filled her hand. “Keep doing that and Mrs. Filey can go to the Devil.”
“You’re my devil,” she whispered. All that male potency under her fingers would soon be hers. She needed him to make
her his, to overwhelm her sorrow and fear with passion.
“Always, my love. Always.”
He swung her up into his arms and climbed the staircase. His heart thundered under her cheek. His arms were warm and
secure. She pressed her face into his chest, breathing deeply. He smelled of lemon and musk and clean male. She took
another lungful of Matthew-scented air. She wanted his essence to permeate so deeply, it lingered forever. Because soon