Untouched

by Anna Campbell

  “No,” Grace protested frantically from behind him. “This is wrong.”

  His heart ached for her distress but he didn’t look at her. All his strength, his mind, his determination focused on vanquishing his uncle.

  “Idle words from a useless popinjay.” Lord John tried for a careless laugh but the blood had receded from his cheeks, leaving him even more pasty-faced than usual.

  Matthew forced himself to shrug with a nonchalance he didn’t feel. “That is my final power, Uncle. There are a hundred ways I could kill myself in this room alone. Then my cousin becomes Marquess of Sheene. Your access to the Lansdowne coffers ends unless you intend to bribe doctors to say he’s mad too. I doubt you’d get away with this scheme twice.”

  “Cease your melodramatic drivel,” Lord John snapped, although his effortless air of command noticeably frayed.

  “Matthew, I’m not worth it,” Grace breathed. “Don’t do this. I beg of you.”

  He turned to meet her troubled eyes. “It’s the only way, my darling.”

  “You offer to lay down your life for this whore?” Lord John said with disgusted incomprehension. “She’s nothing but a cheap harlot. You’d buy her equal for twopence in any alley.”

  Matthew swung back to his uncle and bared his teeth in unconcealed threat. “Speak of this lady with disrespect once more and I’ll ram your words down your throat.”

  “You imagine yourself in love. There’s no point trying to make you see sense,” his uncle sneered, although he took a step backward. Clearly, he hadn’t forgotten the moment Matthew had loomed over him with murder in his eyes. “I’ll return when you’ve regained what pass for your wits.”

  He rapped his cane hard on the floor. Almost immediately, a footman opened the door. Matthew thankfully inhaled the blast of cooler air that rushed into the room. The heat left him feeling stifled. Or perhaps it was the evil that oozed from his uncle’s pores like the stench of rotten flesh.

  “Keep your slut for the nonce. Enjoy her while you can.” Lord John stalked out without another word.

  Matthew stripped his coat from his sweating body, threw it over a chair and strode across to pour himself a brandy.

  Against all expectations, he’d won. He couldn’t believe it.

  He downed his drink in a single gulp and poured another. He turned to offer the glass to Grace, then froze in shock.

  A torrent of tears cascaded down her ashen cheeks. She stood facing him, trembling so hard that her words emerged in staccato bursts. “I’m not worth your life, Matthew.”

  “Of course you are.” He slammed the glass onto the sideboard so roughly that brandy spilled onto the richly polished wood. “You’re heaven and earth to me.”

  Couldn’t she see that? The forbidden words I love you surged up anew. He reached her side and wrenched her into his arms. Immediately her sweet jasmine and sunshine scent filled his head.

  “I don’t want you to die,” she sobbed, burying her head in his chest. Her hands kneaded his back through his shirt.

  “Foolish girl,” he murmured into her soft hair. His arm tightened and he pressed her shaking body closer. She fitted against him as if made for his embrace. “You can rely on my uncle’s greed if nothing else.”

  She pulled far enough away to wipe at her tears. “I hate your uncle.”

  The bitter realization struck that the time for prevarication had passed. “He won’t stay defeated, Grace. You’re not safe under his dominion. Make no mistake—everything on this estate is under his dominion.”

  “I can’t help that,” she said thickly.

  “Yes, you can. You can leave.”

  Her gaze, dark with confusion, swimming with tears, flew to meet his. “I’m as much his prisoner as you are.”

  Oh, God, could he bear to tell her? He took a deep breath of the overheated air. “I can get you out.”

  She searched his face as if she suspected him of joking. “You’ve always said that’s impossible. Why has that changed? How can we escape?”

  He briefly closed his eyes in agony, although the image of her ardent, tear-stained face burned in his brain. “Just you, Grace,” he said with difficulty. “You’re going. I’m staying.”

  She withdrew slightly and frowned. He fought the urge to tug her back into his arms, if only because soon, she’d be too far away to hold. “I don’t understand. If I can leave, why can’t you?”

  “I’d give anything to make things different, but anyone who aids me is sentenced as a criminal. It happened last time.”

  “I’d be with you. I can tell people what your uncle has done.”

  She sounded so eager, so hopeful, he hated to deny her. “Do you think I wouldn’t sell my soul to be free and with you? But I’m a certified lunatic. I’m confined for the public good.”

  “You’re not mad,” she said vehemently. “You know you’re not mad.”

  “For the past few years, no. But my doctors will swear I’m dangerous.”

  “Doctors your uncle bribed. He didn’t deny your charge.”

  “That doesn’t mean their diagnosis is wrong.”

  “It is wrong!”

  “Grace, stop!” He leaned forward and kissed her hard. Tasting tears. Tasting desperation.

  Heat exploded in his head, dazzled him with light. Her mouth was voracious. Even while he sank into delight, he had the strange idea that she argued with him even through her kiss. She ran her hands up his chest to link them behind his neck. Through the fine shirt, her touch scorched his skin. His arms encircled her, drawing her closer.

  How the hell could he ever let her go?

  Panting and distraught, she tore herself free. She was shaking violently and her face was pale with tension. She glared at him as if she hated him, while her mouth glistened with moisture from their fierce kiss.

  “I won’t go,” she said in a raw voice. “You can’t make me. I want to stay with you.”

  What lunacy was this? He shook his head to clear it. Surely he’d misheard. Circumstances had forced her into a madman’s bed. She’d been abused and attacked and insulted. Any sensible woman would grab the chance of escape and run until she was a thousand miles from this estate and everyone on it.

  Clearly Grace wasn’t a sensible woman.

  His heart clenched in bewildered despair. Perhaps she didn’t understand. “I’ve worked out a way you can get away. This is your chance. You want to be free. You must be free.”

  “I don’t want to be free without you,” she said stubbornly. She lifted her chin and gave him the same defiant glower that had stolen his heart the first time he’d seen her. He didn’t dare read the message in her eyes. Tears streaked her cheeks but she wasn’t crying anymore. “Whatever we face, we face together.”

  Matthew’s heart kicked with shock.

  Could this mean what he thought it did?

  Could it?

  Surely he wasn’t wrong about the inevitable, life-changing truth forcing its way into mind and heart. His anguished, adoring heart.

  He sucked in a deep breath and dredged up every last ounce of courage to ask the inevitable question. “Grace…” he began, then crashed into silence.

  He drew in another lungful of air. Ridiculous, but he kept forgetting to breathe.

  He steeled himself to speak. Christ, he’d confronted death and illness and torture, but forcing these few small words out took every ounce of courage.

  He met her fathomless indigo eyes and braced himself to go on. “Grace, do you love me?”

  His voice sounded rusty, like an old man’s. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides.

  The silence that followed lasted an agonizing eternity.

  Still she didn’t speak.

  Oh, Christ, he’d got it wrong. Somehow he’d got it disastrously wrong.

  Yet for one brief, blinding second, he’d been so sure.

  Despair like slow death trawled his veins. Self-loathing clenched his belly hard and tight. As if a woman like Grace Paget could love someon
e like him. Had he forgotten the cruel lessons of the last years? He was only half a man, condemned to live half a life. Sometimes, like now, that half life was all he believed he deserved.

  She looked uncertain, unhappy. Of course she did. She wouldn’t want to hurt him. He couldn’t bear her pity, but what other response could she offer after the hellish mess he’d made of this? He cursed himself for his damned clumsiness. These last embarrassing minutes would poison the few days remaining to them.

  “I thought I loved Josiah,” she said slowly. Her eyes didn’t shift from his face.

  “You were little more than a child.”

  “I’m a woman now.”

  “Yes.” Helplessly, his gaze ran over her body, tracing each luscious curve, each inch of creamy skin revealed by the crimson silk. His eyes returned to meet hers.

  “I know my heart, Matthew. I know what I feel won’t change.” She took a shuddering breath and extended one unsteady hand in his direction. Her voice shook with intensity. “When I tell you I love you, that means I’ll love you forever.”

  What does a man do when his dearest dream comes true?

  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.”

  “I’m not playing fair, my love. I’m playing to win.”

  Furious denial surged. She wouldn’t let him do this. “Two can play at that game.”

  She gripped his head between shaking hands and dragged him down until his mouth met hers. She’d tried to seduce him against his will before and failed, but now she knew how vulnerable he was to her.

  He didn’t fight, but his lips remained closed and his arms hung resolutely by his sides.

  She wasn’t going to let him win.

  She curled her arms around his back, pressing herself brazenly to his lean form. Against her breasts, his heart pounded, belying his veneer of control. She had to break that control then she had to break him. Anything to make him abandon his cruel plan to exile her.

  Desperately, she licked and nibbled at his lips, nipping his bottom lip until he opened his mouth. Her tongue darted into the dark interior, then lingered to taste and torment. He groaned deep in his throat and finally kissed her back, answering each incursion of her tongue with his. He hauled her up in a furious embrace and took charge. She could no longer tell who was the aggressor. His kiss held the same frantic passion she’d felt last night when she lay in his arms. She closed her eyes while heat and darkness engulfed her.

  “Jesus, Grace!” Abruptly the kiss ended. “This proves nothing!”

  She opened her eyes to see him staring down at her with turbulent despair. He tried to step back but she caught one of his hands before he could move away.

  “Can you live without this?” she asked in a guttural voice. Without finesse, she shoved his palm against her breast. Her nipple immediately tautened to a yearning point under his hand. “Or this?” Roughly, she reached forward to cup the front of his trousers. He was already hard and eager. She stroked his sex and felt him swell under her touch.

  Once she’d never have summoned courage to do this. Love made her bold. And desperate.

  Briefly, he resisted then the hand on her breast curved to shape her flesh. She sighed and leaned into the familiar sweetness.

  “No!” he said hoarsely, tearing himself away to stand a few feet distant. “I can’t live with the fact that you’re in danger.” A hectic flush marked his prominent cheekbones and a muscle twitched spasmodically near his jaw.

  She wrapped her arms around herself to counter the chill slowing her blood. “You can’t fight this,” she said in a frantic rush. “You can’t fight me. I know you too well.”

  “Yes, you do.” He raised a hand to prevent her headlong flight back into his arms. “Do you want to turn what we feel into a weapon? We’ll end up destroying one another.”

  “I can’t leave you.” She wanted to sound strong, invincible, but the words emerged as a choked plea. “Don’t make me go.”

  His face contracted with pain. “Let me save you, Grace. Give me this one gift.” Then in a low shaking voice, “For God’s sake, allow me this if nothing else. I have nothing else.”

  His last bleak statement cut through her resistance like a knife through butter. She fought back tears. She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t cry.

  Acrid shame flooded her. Her defiance tortured him to his limits and he’d already borne so much. She expelled her breath on a
muffled sob. “You break my heart.”

  He understood immediately that she’d acknowledged his right to banish her. He stepped forward to take her in his arms. “I wish to God it could be otherwise, my darling.”

  “When I’m free, I’ll get you out of here,” she said fiercely, tilting her head so she could see his face. It sliced her to her soul to leave him, but what else could she do?

  His expression was stark with sorrow. “Grace, forget me. If my uncle traces you, our efforts are for naught.”

  “I won’t abandon you.”

  “You have to,” he said with bitter finality. “It’s your only chance.”

  “No,” she said just as obstinately. Before he could argue, and she knew he’d argue, she rushed on. “When do I go?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  No.

  Horrified, she jerked free. “You can’t mean it!”

  She’d only just reconciled herself to leaving. One more day? She couldn’t bear it.

  “Every hour you’re here, the danger increases,” he said somberly. “My uncle already schemes to take you away or kill you. By now, he’ll have convinced himself my threats mean nothing. Every hour, Filey gains courage. There’s a food delivery tomorrow morning. Monks and Filey will open the gates. It’s how I escaped last time. I’ll create a diversion and you’ll slip out.”

  She wasn’t going to cry. She’d cried last night. She’d cried this morning. She was going to be brave. For the sake of her own pride if nothing else.

  “But tomorrow?” She struggled for composure.

  “It’s best,” he said with implacable softness and passed her the handkerchief he fished out of his coat. “Now, here’s what we should do.”

  As Grace joined Matthew for dinner in the salon, she was aware this could possibly—was likely—the last evening they’d spend together. Even if her vague plans of rescue came to fruition, their liaison was over once she left the estate. She harbored no foolish illusions that a happy ending awaited in the world outside.