“You mean dead.”
She nodded.
“You did not argue his plan?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “No one does revenge better than Silas. I think it gave him particular satisfaction to know that I would be the instrument of your death. And, no, I didn’t argue because my love for you had turned to hate and I knew that…”
“That if you didn’t kill me, Silas would kill you,” he supplied. “So when you realised the truth of my feelings just now, you decided you’d rather take your own life. Oh, God, Elizabeth, why did you not believe in me, trust me, tell me…?”
He shook her gently as he spoke before pulling her into his arms, crushing her against him with the force of his feelings.
“You were the enemy.” Her voice broke. The joy of being able to speak freely and not be punished for it was almost more than she could bear. “I’d loved you so much, Charles, and then you destroyed the only bright memory of my life.”
“Under sufferance, as a necessary means of allowing me to be with you, Elizabeth.” He kissed the top of her head, which was tucked beneath his chin. “For eight years you have occupied my thoughts and my body has burnt for you. I wanted you so badly. I still want you more than I’ve wanted anything. Just now, you came to me with hardness in your eyes as you bartered your body for what had been promised. Then I felt the change in you. You could not have pretended it. You gave yourself to me, freely and with a heart full of love.” He swallowed, adding hoarsely, “That’s what I came back for.”
Elizabeth exhaled on a shaky breath. “But for tonight only, Charles. I am not free to give you anything after tonight. I am Lady Drummond of Drummond Castle and Silas is my lawful husband. He will kill you—”
“Let him try!” Charles gripped her arms and shook her. “If you love me enough, I will hide you from him. Forever, if necessary.”
The brief surge of hope and joy was quickly extinguished. Miserably, she slumped in his arms. “Silas will find other ways. He will have his revenge. He will make me come back. He will not have me possessed by another man and himself dishonoured. I will never see my children again.”
“Then we will find a way to spirit them away, too.”
“He would kill our daughter before he would see you take her. I know what he’s like, Charles. You don’t.” A terrible shaking overcame her body as the ghastliness of her punishment at the hands of her vengeful husband seeped through her consciousness. “I cannot be with you, Charles,” she whispered. “Nothing you say will induce me to change my mind. But”—she put her forehead against his chest—“we have a few more hours tonight. A few more hours in which to be together.”
8
He undressed her this time. Slowly, languidly, and had her stand before the blazing log fire so he could admire the long, curvaceous lines of her. She looked at him, shyly, but she’d agreed to
his request without demur. After all that had happened he believed she’d agree to any request. Remorse played its part, but so did trust.
Now her hair rippled over her shoulders, cascading over her breasts to curl sweetly at her hips. In her lush, creamy nakedness she presented such a different picture from the prim Puritan who had greeted her visitors with such cold wariness.
He’d been shocked by the change in her. A joyless creature, so far removed from the beautiful, sweet Elizabeth he’d known for those two glorious weeks eight years ago. Yet, even then, he’d been aware of her steely resolve. It was what had given him hope when he’d asked her to wed him. They’d both known the formidable obstacles they’d faced when they’d pledged their love, and they’d both declared they’d overcome them.
He sat by the table and put out his arms. “Come to me, my sweeting.” He sounded hoarse and no wonder—it was an entirely different matter to make love to a woman for mutual, drawn-out gratification than to do it when your life—and hers—depended upon it. “Come to me if you love me. If you love only me.”
Oh, he sounded like a proud popinjay, revelling in the fact that he could play her heartstrings. The trouble was, what about tomorrow? He needed to bend that steely resolve of hers so she would take the great step that would make them both happy. He needed to make her agree to run away with him. He could hide her for as long as needed. She’d be safe. Well cared and provided for. He’d buy her silks and laces. Anything. If she’d only agree to be his.
The softening of her expression as she stepped forward, her shyness gone from her, made his heart swell. Her words, though, as she touched her lips to his brow before settling herself on his lap, were a blow.
“One night of loving for me to cherish for the rest of my life, Charles, and then it’s goodbye.” She kissed him again, lingeringly. “I cannot be a sinner for the rest of my life and I will never cut myself off, willingly, from my children.”
There was nothing to be said to this, he thought, as he slid one arm about her shoulders and gently caressed her breast. Nothing to do, except persuade her otherwise.
She was soft and yielding, her kisses given freely, with love in her heart. Charles lost himself in the sensuous melding of lips while he skimmed his hands over her smooth, white skin, exulting in her responsiveness to his touch. Honeyed words and sensuous actions could hide the truth of a hardened heart or unwillingness, but the sudden tautening of her nipples when he rubbed them, or the surge of slippery wetness when he stroked the smooth passage between her legs, could not be feigned.
With infinite care he kissed her. Previously, he’d driven himself into her with fury, staking his claim. So when she straddled him in a prelude to the act itself, he rocked back, scooped her up beneath the knees and held her sideways, putting his lips to her ear. “Your pleasure comes first, my Elizabeth. I’ll not last a moment, otherwise.” He hesitated as he drew his mouth away, then said the words, anyway. “If we have only tonight, I want it to last forever.”
Gently, he ran his hands over her porcelain skin. Smooth, like cream, and soft. He contoured her magnificent breasts and felt her tense, and the soft intake of breath made him smile. If he’d had his way, he’d have been doing this every night for the past eight years. Tonight was their night of exploration.
He stopped when he felt an unusual ridge of scar tissue across the top of her buttocks and turned her slightly towards the light so he could observe it better. Three weals stood out. Lash strokes. He was familiar with those.
A dark, terrible rage began to rumble deep within him but he kept his voice low and under control. “What happened?”
She twisted her head. “Which marks do you refer to?” she asked in the same moment that he realised there were other marks, different and deeper, across the back of her left thigh.
His fury grew and he held her tighter as he gently caressed the scars. “Silas did this?” he asked as he plotted his revenge upon the man who could do this to his beloved.