She could touch him like this forever. She listened as his breathing steadied and his heartbeat slowed.
He grazed his chin against her shoulder. The bristles on his face scratched. She felt rather than heard him inhale. He turned his head to place a gentle kiss on her neck.
“I love you, Grace,” he whispered.
Chapter 17
The soft words crashed into the charged silence like a declaration of war instead of a declaration of love.
As soon as he spoke, Matthew knew he’d made a mistake. His biggest mistake of all in this long, momentous night.
Damn his unruly tongue. Double damn his yearning heart.
It was too late to take back what he’d said. Even if he wanted to.
He wasn’t sure he did. He wasn’t ashamed of how he felt.
Jesus, his love for her invested every heartbeat.
Of course he loved her. He’d loved her from the moment he’d seen her bound, bedraggled and defiant, to that fiendish table in the garden room. Even when he’d mistrusted and reviled her, he’d loved her.
After what they’d just shared, she must know he loved her. Every touch, every kiss, every stroke of his body in hers had professed his love. Hadn’t she felt it?
But she wasn’t ready to hear vows of undying love. Even if he hadn’t guessed that already, her horrified reaction now told him. Stiffness returned to the body which had curved against his in perfect trust. The hands that had played a delicate symphony on his naked back stilled as if turned to stone.
Her shocked paralysis faded and she struggled out from beneath him. “Lord Sheene…My lord…”
Only seconds ago, he’d luxuriated in an intimacy he’d never known. It hurt like the very devil to hear her try and distance him.
He raised himself on one elbow so he could look at her. “Back to my lord again?” he asked wearily.
“Matthew, listen to me.” Color lined her slanted cheekbones. “You can’t love me.”
She sounded furious. How strange. He’d braced himself for embarrassment or, worse, pity. But her eyes sparkled with rage and something very like fear.
Why should his confession make her frightened? The thought nagged at the edge of his mind.
She pushed herself up against the pillows and fumbled to tug the sheet higher to cover her nakedness. Another barrier, he recognized with regret. No part of her remained in contact with him. The inches that separated them felt like miles of ice field. He had the absurd fancy that if he attempted to cross that gap, he’d stumble into a crevasse and freeze to death.
“Of course I can,” he said with a hint of impatience. While all the time, the bitter fact of her rejection seeped into his mind.
“It’s not possible. You shouldn’t. It’s not…” She took a deep breath. He watched the sheet rise against her breasts and fought the urge to rip it away.
She wanted to hide from this but he wasn’t going to let her. He wasn’t going to let her hide from him.
Then a vile thought plunged like a knife into his few remaining shreds of contentment. Even while his gut clenched in anguished denial, he made himself ask the question. “Did you sleep with me to save yourself from my uncle? If so, I appreciate your generosity, but there was no need. Sharing this room will convince him we’re lovers. You didn’t need to make the ultimate sacrifice.”
“No!” She paled and her pulse set up an agitated beat in her throat. The hands clutching the sheet tightened until her knuckles shone white. “No, never, never think that. You know I want you. There was…there was no sacrifice.”
“Your reaction leads me to think otherwise,” he said in a wooden voice.
The anger left her expression and her face contracted with sorrow. “You took me by surprise. I spoke hastily. Forgive me. I…I wasn’t kind.”
Her pity was harder to bear than her anger. “I don’t want kindness,” he almost snarled.
Flinching at his tone, she raised her eyes to look directly at him. The compassion in her voice made him want to hit something. “Matthew, forgive me. I know this is difficult for you. But you make too much of what just happened between us.”
“No, I don’t,” he said stiffly.