“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.”
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, ever-increasing 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.
“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.