The only one he would ever know.
He clenched his jaw, tried to harden his voice. “Sorry to have to disappoint you on that score, your ladyship. If it’s truth you want, you’ve got the wrong man. If you had rules and conditions, you should have spelled them out before you and I—”
“Stop it.”
“I just wanted to make it clear—”
“It’s clear,” she said icily. “Everything is clear. I understand you perfectly.”
The sun broke through the trees. She rose and walked past him, the chain clanking, and scooped up her new clothes. Turning her back, she started unbuttoning the shirt she wore, her movements slow and steady.
Then she passed it to him in a calm, civilized manner that twisted the knife in his gut all over again. He almost wished she would throw it at him. Curse him.
Instead she simply started to dress in her new clothes. Didn’t say another word.
Nicholas turned his back. Partly to give her some measure of privacy, partly because he didn’t want her to notice that he couldn’t keep his own hands steady. Pulling his shirt on, he tried to ignore that her warm, soft scent permeated the cloth. He buttoned it to his throat with quick, savage motions, covering the brand on his chest, as he had so many innumerable times in the past. The mark of the Molloch. The indelible evidence of who and what he was.
What he would always be.
Samantha would be better off without him. Soon, she would be on her way to Venice. Which was for the best, he told himself. She already knew too much about him. He would be safer with her out of England. And maybe, when he put some miles between them, all of these blasted feelings would go away.
Besides, she would be happy there. She would have her villa by the Adriatic, her lacemaking work...
And some rich Italian count or baron for a husband.
Bile burned his throat. He clenched his hands, wanting to throttle the bastard—whoever he would be. The vision of Samantha showering her sweet passion on some other man made him want to put his fist through the nearest tree.
And of course, now that he had shown her she had nothing to fear from lovemaking, she would be less reluctant to accept another man in her bed.
He muttered an oath.
“Are you ready, your ladyship?” he asked curtly. “It’s time to go.”
~ ~ ~
The sun, Sam thought, had the most awful way of revealing things. Everything that had seemed dreamy and magical and special last night had been exposed by the glaring light of day.
Transformed into something common and real and painful.
And the worst part was that she could see her own foolishness now, with agonizing clarity.
As she followed Nick through the trees, heading back toward the gypsy camp, their shackles jangling, she kept hearing his biting, cynical words. I never offered you any promises.
It was true. He hadn’t said a word about caring, or any feelings at all. Clearly, he didn’t have any feelings for her. She had been a pleasant distraction to him, nothing more.
And she couldn’t even hate him for it. He had shared with her exactly what he had offered: physical pleasure. He hadn’t hurt her. Hadn’t taken anything by force. She had given it all willingly.
She had given him her innocence.
She had given him her heart.
The first he had accepted gladly.
The second he didn’t want.
If she had misinterpreted his soft words and gentle touches, had seen behind them a meaning that wasn’t there, that was her own stupid mistake. Obviously there was a lot she still didn’t understand about lovemaking.
She had thought it involved the heart, not merely the body.
The morning sun felt unseasonably hot, beating down on her, plastering her stolen chemise to her back and shoulders. The coins in the deep pocket of her green silk skirt bumped against her leg now and then. Nick carried the bulk of their stolen money in the coin purse, but he had insisted on giving her a few guineas. She would need to buy food on her way to Merseyside, he had pointed out—after they were separated.
She stared at his broad back as he trudged ahead of her. Those were the last words he had spoken to her. He had barely even spared her a glance since they set out at dawn.
Which was just as well, she thought gratefully. She had come perilously close to tears during their last exchange. If nothing else, she wanted to get out of this with some