Untouched - Page 89

Matthew stared at her outstretched hand. He’d never imagined this time would come. He wasn’t prepared. Her words soaked into his soul, slowly turning the parched desert there into a verdant garden.

“You love me,” he said slowly, wonderingly. Then with greater certainty, “By God, you love me.” His astonished laugh 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.

Chapter 21

“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.”

She glared at him. “That’s not playing fair.”

Tags: Anna Campbell Historical
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