No. It was simply not possible. She could not hear, and certainly she could not feel, the beat of his heart. It was absurd. Mad. And yet... there was the oddest sensation within her. As if she were connected with this man in a manner that defied logic.
"I..."
"What is it?" he demanded.
"Just for a moment. . . no, nothing. It is ridiculous."
Almost as if sensing her strange confusion, Lucien stepped closer, his fingers reaching up to gently cup her chin.
"Do not turn from the truth, my dove."
She frowned into the countenance that was becoming so terrifyingly familiar. "What truth?"
"That we are becoming entwined in both heart and soul," he said softly.
She should have laughed at his words. Two people did not become entwined. They lusted, they loved, and, on the rare occasion, they even liked each other. But they did not share thoughts and feelings as if they were one.
Still, she did not laugh.
Not when she felt her entire being was consumed by such an intimate awareness of Lucien.
"No," she whispered.
His fingers tightened upon her chin, his expression relentless as he held her wary gaze.
"You can sense it as well as I, Jocelyn," he whispered in mesmerizing tones. "The beat of our hearts, the joining of our minds, the desire that binds us together."
She could sense it. She could sense it pulsing through her blood and seeping deep into her soul.
A flare of near panic struck her heart. This was not supposed to be happening. Her life was meant to be calm, predictable, and devoted to others.
Wetting her dry lips, she gave a shake of her head. "Lucien, I cannot do this."
"Why?" His gaze stabbed deep into her wide eyes. "What do you fear?"
"Betrayal," she said before she could halt the revealing word.
The golden eyes darkened as his fingers tenderly moved to stroke her pale cheek.
"Never, my dove. You can believe in me."
A tremor shook her body. He could not possibly understand. No one understood.
"I think we should go," she breathed.
There was a strained silence, as if he battled the urge to force her to accept his pledge. Then his lips twisted with rueful humor.
"As you wish. Our time will come. Eventually."
Taking the bow from her hands, Lucien moved to retrieve the arrows, and then with exquisite care he helped her to the carriage he had rented for the day.
Jocelyn settled herself on the leather seat with a hint of regret.
When Lucien had first suggested they spend the day out of the city, she had hesitated. She was all too aware of the danger of spending such a vast amount of time alone with this gentleman. He was too achingly handsome, too charming, too sensually compelling not to be a danger to any maiden.
But the desire to be away from the cramped house and dark streets had proved to be irresistible.
She did not want to spend the day brooding on yet another murdered maiden or on the strange fear that she was being ruthlessly hunted. Just for a few hours she wanted to feel young and unfettered and happy.