could not drag herself away. She would never see him again and the sense of loss was almost more than she could bear.
Because, in spite of everything, in spite of the coldness he wore like armour against the world, she had glimpsed a softer and kinder side. And, yes, a vulnerable side that called to her in ways she did not understand, as well as a seductive side she found almost irresistible. Which she should not be thinking about now, but somehow she could not help it as she gazed at his face, at the small frown between his brows. He looked troubled and she wanted to smooth those cares away. She longed to press her lips to his lovely mouth and lose herself in his wonderful kiss.
She loved him.
The realisation filled her chest in the region of her heart with a sweet kind of ache.
Why not stay? Why not accept his offer of marriage? Perhaps in time, there would even be children despite what he had said. Had it not always been her dearest wish? A home. A family of her own.
And live her life knowing he would never return her love.
The thought sliced her heart to ribbons. She pressed a hand to her ribs to ease the terrible pain.
He stirred, shifting position, looking for ease he wouldn’t find on the cold hard stone. If he awoke now, she would surely be lost. The next time he assaulted her with kisses and sweet seduction, she would be unable to resist.
To love and not be loved, it was all she had known. But with him it would be a disaster. She could feel it in her bones.
The was no other choice. She had to go.
Heavy-hearted, she crept over the threshold and closed the door behind her. Once more she glanced down at his sleeping form and had the wild urge to press her lips to his mouth. To bid him farewell. But she couldn’t.
Instead she crept away, like a thief in the night, and took the stairs down to the cellar, the stairs he had brought her up that very first night, before either of them knew about the will. The first time he had kissed her.
She would never forget his kisses as long as she lived. When he was kissing her, she felt alive, like a different person, strong, sure and, heavens help her, beloved.
It was all a lie. A figment of her foolish longings. He didn’t want her. He’d made it perfectly clear he didn’t. He was being forced into this by a man he hated. And in time indifference might well turn to hate.
At the bottom of the stairs she turned left, away from the sound of the sea. Halfway along the wall, there was another sconce. Another entrance to yet another secret passage, if the map was correct. And this one would lead her outside to the old Abbey ruins.
She twisted the sconce.
Nothing happened.
Her heart rose in her throat. She’d got it wrong. Blast. She’d left the book in her room. She couldn’t check the map. She’d been so sure she had memorised it correctly.
She glanced up and down the hallway, lifting her candle. There were no other sconces. She tried again. Twisting hard. She felt it shift. A little. It was stiff from disuse, perhaps.
She put the candle down and used both hands. The sconce turned painfully slowly. And the grinding noise echoed down the hallway. Heaven help her, Beresford would hear it. She had to hurry.
She wrenched it hard. The wall moved a little, then a little more, and then it opened fully. She picked up her candle and darted inside, found the mechanism on the other side and closed it behind her.
Now all she had to do was make it out to the ruins and run as fast as she could. And never look back.
* * *
The cold seeped into her bones. She felt as if she had been walking for hours, but she knew it was far less than that. Betsy had been right about the impending snow. It was up over her ankles and made walking difficult. And the wind seemed determined to impede her, too. It gusted this way and that, tearing at her cloak, blowing flurries of snow in her face so she couldn’t see where she was going. Not that she could see much at all, it was so dark.
But if it was too dark to see her way, then it was too dark for anyone to find