Grace couldn’t remain on the estate. Even if he managed to keep her out of Filey’s clutches, too many other hazards lurked.
Matthew had long ago lost the chance for a normal life. But a woman like Grace belonged to the world. She deserved happiness with a decent man who would love her and care for her and give her children. That man could never be Matthew Lansdowne. Much as he’d barter his soul to say he was.
He had to come up with an escape plan for her. Then, once she was free and safe, he’d end his uncle’s reign of evil forever.
Chapter 20
Ten uneasy days passed. Matthew cursed each second that Grace remained on the estate and in danger, even though anticipating her departure was like bathing in acid.
His determination to spirit her away never wavered. He only had to recall Filey’s hulking body jammed between her bare legs and the sickening thud of the brute’s fists on her flesh. Each moment she spent as Lord John’s captive, she was at risk.
Filey slunk about, bruised, limping, sulking, sporting an increasingly filthy bandage on his arm where Wolfram’s teeth had broken the skin. He seemed cowed, but Matthew didn’t fool himself that the threat had passed.
Grace’s bruises had almost gone and her grazes weren’t severe enough to scar. Little other evidence remained of the frightened, tearful woman whose injuries he’d tended. The only long-term effects he noted were a new desperation in her passion and a reluctance to stray far from his side.
With every day, he loved her more. He wouldn’t have thought that possible, but it was true. When he buried himself deep inside her, he felt they shared blood, breath, souls. So often the words I love you surged up to push at the back of his teeth. So far he’d managed to stifle unwelcome declarations. The memory was too vivid of how she’d recoiled when he’d told her before.
Grace called him a brave man, but he wasn’t brave enough to risk rejection again.
She wanted him. She trusted him. She seemed to like him. She just didn’t love him.
Which hurt like the very devil.
His eternally fascinating Grace sat opposite him now on the couch. Twilight drew in and they shared the hour before dinner. Her presence soothed his troubled thoughts, even if nothing could dispel them. He glanced across from his armchair near the unlit fire and marveled yet again that such a glorious woman should be his.
Because for now she was unequivocally his.
She reclined against the arm of the couch in an unconsciously seductive pose. One elegant hand held a half-full glass. Her crimson gown was tight enough to make a whore blush. The rich color made her skin look like new milk.
His eyes dipped to where the fiendishly low neckline barely covered her nipples. He licked his lips as if he already tasted their sweetness.
Soon.
Desire stirred lazily in his veins. Later, when he held her naked in his arms, it would blaze into a conflagration. In this quiet room, appetite was a gentle fizz in his blood, an alluring whisper of pleasure to come.
She’d piled her hair high, leaving silky tendrils to tease bare shoulders. How he longed to festoon that slender neck with cascades of rubies. Rubies, diamonds, pearls, emeralds. Never sapphires. Not even the finest sapphires could rival the beauty of her eyes.
He had no jewels to offer, only his longing, loving heart. To his aching regret, he knew she’d never covet that poor prize.
She raised her glass and sipped at the rich red liquid the same color as her dress. Such a simple thing to make the breath hitch in his throat.
She was everything he wanted. The prospect of her leaving pierced his guts like a saber.
He hadn’t told her she must go. Until he had a firm plan, he saw no point in raising hopes of freedom. Of course she’d leap at the chance of escape. She’d be a fool not to.
A tiny frown contracted her fine dark brows. “What’s wrong, Matthew?”
He forced himself to smile. He strove to hide his disquiet but she knew him so well. “That dress needs rubies.”
She shrugged. “I don’t care about jewels.”
He knew she didn’t. But that didn’t stop him from regretting that he’d never bedeck her with glittering treasure. His mind conjured a breathtaking image of her draped in nothing except ropes of shining stones.
“What’s that?” she asked, turning toward the window which sat ajar to catch the soft spring air.
“I just…” He wondered how she’d guessed the lascivious images slinking through his head. Then he too heard the carriage rumbling up the drive to stop in front of the cottage.
Only one man had unlimited entrée to the estate. Lord John’s arrival was unwelcome but no surprise. Monks would have informed him of events last week. Matthew set his crystal glass down on a side table with an audible clink. Animal wariness banished his sensual imaginings.