by Eliza Knight
Memories only brought her pain and misery.
Right now, she needed her wits about her. Without her faculties, she wouldn’t be able to resist Terrence’s charm–a potent and powerful wine she wanted to guzzle.
At that thought, her parched throat constricted, her breath catching, and she thought she might faint for the briefest of moments. Was this what she wanted? Was that why she dared to walk past his London house morning after morning, with her red hat like a flag beckoning a bull? When she’d heard he was out of town, there had seemed no harm in it. But she’d been lying to herself all along.
“What do you mean, your husband and daughter?” Terrence’s voice was calm. Too calm.
A shiver of fear raced along her spine, sending gooseflesh to cover her limbs. Her stomach cramped, and she was close to losing the meager breakfast she’d consumed.
Locking her knees, Elizabeth forced herself to look him in the eye and said the first thing she could think of, “I dinna know what ye’re talking about.”
Not really a valid cluster of words, and certainly they made no sense given her pronouncement only moments ago, but, hopefully, they bought her some time. Time to think this through and figure out a way to once more escape the appealing man who should be her mortal enemy.
A man she found so hard to hate.
Terrence’s eyes blazed fury for a moment. His lips pressed into a thin line. He stepped even closer, filling the space between them with his masculine, intoxicating scent: spicy, woodsy and leather. Oh, aye, it was so hard to hate him.
“You know bloody well what I mean.” His tone wasn’t menacing, but it left no room for argument all the same.
Dinna cry, she told herself, when tears of frustration, ire, sadness filled her to the brim.
Elizabeth swallowed. And swallowed again. Her voice wouldn’t work; her tongue felt twisted and swollen; but even worse, her mind did not seem to be within her full control either. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe.
With him so near, all she could do was stare into his gorgeous, smoky-blue eyes and remember the last time he’d kissed her. It had been the morning she’d escaped. They’d made love the entire night through. She could still feel the tingles on her skin—or was that renewed desire for him?
She’d kissed him goodbye, putting every ounce of herself into that last kiss, knowing she wasn’t coming back, praying she’d never see him again, and then she’d made herself disappear. She had cried enough to fill a loch for her broken heart. The sickening truth of it was that Elizabeth hadn’t wanted to leave Terrence.
She’d had to leave him. There was no other choice. Yet, despite who the Earl of Shaftesbury was in truth to her—she loved him in her own way.
“Elizabeth...” His tone thickened, sounding more threatening.
“I canna, my lord,” she said, using his proper form of address rather than his name, to put some distance between them, even if only in words. To remind her scrambling mind that he was an earl, and she was but a commoner, and there was nothing for it but to draw a line.
Terrence growled and whirled around. He stalked towards the window, his stylish boots making a thunking noise against the polished wood floorboards with each step he took. She watched him retreat—watched the play of muscles on his backside as a burning shame came to flame in her cheeks. Was there really any harm in admiring a man with a most auspicious physique?
Zounds! There was harm in it. Hadn’t she proven that already?
There it was. The moment she’d been looking for since his valet had pounced on her outside the gate—a chance for escape. Taking advantage of his turned back, Elizabeth, too, whirled around and headed for the door.
3
Elizabeth’s fingers wrapped around the handle when Terrence’s larger, more callused ones closed over hers. Hands that worked side by side with those in his employ rather than taking the high and mighty overlord position.
Biting the inside of her cheek, she tried not to tremble. Not to sink back against him. Not to fall to the floor in a puddle of emotional confusion.
Her husband, Linden, had admired Terrence for that very real and honest part of him—the hardworking and respectable part. But in the end, Linden had been wrong about Terrence. She had to remember that, to harden her heart and guard her soul. When they were at their lowest, betraying someone was a most horrid offense, one that canceled out all previous good deeds. And that was what had happened between Linden and Terrence. A devastating betrayal.
Despite Terrence never having exhibited to her anything other than his innately good side, she had to call to the forefront of her mind what had got her here. Disloyalty.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he murmured against her ear. “Not yet anyway.”
His breath cascaded over her neck, making her shiver with need, but also fear. He couldn’t keep her here, could he? There was a real chance he would summon the magistrate. Discover the fraud that she was.
So, why did part of her want to stay? Elizabeth bit her cheek harder, forcing herself to remember the child that needed her. Sarah…
“Ye have to let me go.” Elizabeth’s voice croaked with taut emotion, and she searched for the words she needed to say but came up empty. There didn’t seem to be a right way. “I canna stay here. I canna stay with ye.”
“Elizabeth, you betrayed me.” Beneath his words lay a sharp-edged sword.
What did he know of betrayal? The man didn’t know anything about betrayal or lost, pain or misery. As she straightened her back, words finally fell over her tongue.
“I am not the one with blood on my hands.” Elizabeth wrenched away from Terrence’s nearness, ducking beneath his arm, and meeting his steely gaze. There was pain etched in the corners. And something else. Something…frantic.
What would Terrence do when cornered, when he felt he’d been wronged? She already knew what he would do to someone in need, who didn’t offer him any offense. He let them die for his gain, bleeding out in the middle of the street.
He leaned back against the door, his broad shoulders nearly reaching both frames. Shoulders she’d remembered clinging to in the heat of passion. Elizabeth tore her gaze away from him. Away from the memories of her time with him, which had been lovely, and how she felt guilty all the more for remembering the experiences that way.
With him blocking the door, escape was temporarily futile. She sank back farther into his office, needing to put space between them. At the same time needing the connection that she feared breaking apart. But this was all a farce wasn’t it? Terrence wasn’t the man she’d thought he was. He was supposed to be cruel. He was supposed to be ruthless. All things she’d never witnessed on her own.
But they had to be true. Had to be.
Elizabeth glanced around, her eyes catching on the lovely pair of blue-and-white imperial Chinese porcelain vases she knew Terrence prized. Cracking one of those over his head might give her a few minutes to run away. But she wasn’t the violent sort, and Terrence’s valet was most likely lurking beyond the library door. Besides, breaking a priceless vase had to be some sort of sin.
Seeming to have gained his composure after the shock of her insinuation, Terrence crossed his muscled arms over his chest and glowered at her. “What the bloody hell does that mean? Blood on my hands? What is it you think I’ve done?”
Elizabeth sniffed, turning her nose up at him, seeking resolve in her slowly weakening spine. He’d never see it her way. Terrence might be a charming man, a good kisser and one hell of a lover, but he was a businessman, and weren't all businessmen unscrupulous when it came to money? Uncaring about who they harmed?
“’Tis expected, though disappointing, that a man like ye would see it that way.” Her nails dug into her palms, remembering Linden’s words, the pain etched into his forehead. Then poor Sarah, growing up without the benefit of her father. Anger fueled Elizabeth to step forward, her brows furrowed in a frown.
She wanted to grab Terrence. To shake him. To make him confess w
hat he’d done.
“At last, a spark of life,” Terrence goaded. “Don’t hold in the storm I see inside you. I demand you tell me what you mean by your vile words.”
Elizabeth was about to let him have it, but part of her held back, worried because she had somewhere to be. A job to do. Survive or die. That was what her life boiled down to. And the fleeting time she’d spent here, as a lady, that was just a dream, not the reality of her life.
“Ye dinna deserve that much,” she said under her breath, forcing herself to envision Linden and Sarah, even though her ire was starting to seem superficial and forced. God, it was hard to hate him when he seemed so oblivious to what she was saying. When he still showed such emotion in his countenance.
“Elizabeth…” Terrence met her gaze, his eyes stricken.
She couldn’t look away. Couldn’t force herself to turn around. Her belly twisted, and she wished she could run into his arms to tell him that she was sorry for the pain she’d caused him. But doing that would make her untrue to Linden’s memory, her last promise to him. Which was worse?
Blast it all. It was unfair that being untrue to herself seemed crueler when it should be the other way around.
She’d already fulfilled her promise to Linden when she’d made Terrence love her and then left him. Her revenge had already been achieved. But didn’t she deserve a chance at love again?
Elizabeth sucked on the inside of her cheek and glanced at the ground. What did she want? In a perfect world—
That exact thought snapped her out of whatever fantasy she’d been trying to tuck herself into. There was no such thing as perfect. Especially not in her world.
“Ye have to let me go, Terrence. I dinna belong here.” This time she used his given name, hoping that the familiarity would entice him to let her out the door. She wasn’t sure she’d make it there on her own. “If ye loved me at all…allow me to go.”
And he did. Holding up his hands, he backed slowly away. His eyes never left her, dark in their intensity, and her heart skipped a beat. Pain and confusion etched his features, tearing into her heart. Heaven help her—this was awful.
Surprised, it took her several heartbeats to react to his surrender.
“Thank ye,” she choked out, forcing herself to cease thinking about him permitting her go without question—he loved her that much?
Elizabeth was surprised when he didn’t stop her from opening the door. She was surprised when he didn’t pull her back in as she walked through it. Was disappointed that he didn’t. All it would have taken was one more time, and she would have melted, surrendering. She supposed it was best then that he hadn’t. Her heart hammered against her ribs, and she felt nauseous leaving this place—once her home—leaving the man she knew deep down in her heart she loved, though she should hate him for ruining everything.
Just as she entered the foyer, only a few feet from escape, his voice consumed her, stopping her in her tracks.
“Elizabeth, don’t leave like this. Tell me why. I beg of you.”
He deserved to know. And yet there was something inside holding her back. She turned around slowly, her skirts twirling lightly at her ankles. When she raised her eyes to meet his, it was a feat of willpower not to sink to the floor and give in to her buried need to stay—to his plea for the same. Giving in would have been far easier than this.
After he heard the truth, he would let her go. He wouldn’t want her then. Not like he did when she’d walked into his library after two years. Desire had burned in his gaze, and she felt it reciprocated in her own veins.
This was the best way to get him to let her go, even if it hurt like hell.
Maybe the reason she’d fought it was that she hoped he would come after her, that somehow, she could make him part of her life.
But there was Sarah. Elizabeth would never abandon her, and she doubted Terrence would accept another man’s child into his house. A lowly man, as he must believe Linden to have been.
She would tell him the truth, and then she would leave.
“I married young,” Elizabeth started. She glanced to one side, then the other. There were no servants in sight, though she was sure they were listening from somewhere.
Hurt flickered over Terrence’s features at her concealment from him. They, too, had been married in love, and she’d never told him about her other family. Whatever his sentiments, he bottled them up quickly, his face clearing like a slate being wiped clean.
“My husband was an employee of yours.”
4
Terrence’s facial features did not show his reaction, but when he spoke, his voice was low and too controlled. Inside, he felt every muscle fiber tighten. “In my house?”
Elizabeth shook her head, sucked on her lower lip in a way that made him want to rush forward and take her into his arms. To soothe whatever fear that she had in telling him the truth.
“No. He worked for Shaftesbury Luxury Ships. We lived in…the East End.”
At that detail, Terrence’s eye twitched. The East End of London was notorious for its crime and rookeries. Dark London. Was that where she’d been—and survived—the last two years? When she need not have been.
He would have given her the world. And yet, she’d not been his to give anything to, had she?
Married to one of his employees,…Terrence had made an extreme effort to visit his shipping company weekly. Knew his employees well and most of their families. He was the type of employer who worked hard beside his men and rewarded them for it.
“Linden worked at the docks, loading and unloading ships. That’s where he met ye.”
Terrence was tunneled back to the docks at the name, seeing an image of a rugged Scottish worker—stronger than most, more determined than the rest. Linden had caught his eye because, unlike most workers who couldn’t wait to finish their shift and take their day’s wages to the closest tavern, the man had been proud of what he accomplished. Terrence had made it his business to tell Linden he was doing a good job. He’d even offered him a bonus at the end of the month.
But then Linden had up and disappeared after Terrence had trusted him with something crucial. Terrence had sent out Runners to find the man, tried to locate him where they thought he lived, but it had been as if Linden had vanished into thin air. Much like his—no, their—wife had. He was still having a hard time wrapping his head around that fact.
Terrence supposed now with this new information come to light—the disappearance of two people he’d trusted—that he had been played for a fool. “I remember Linden. Quite well,” Terrence said coolly. “Where is he now?”
Terrence imagined the two of them laughing and carousing at how they’d bested him, and it made his blood run cold. He’d loved her. Trusted her.
His fingers curled toward his palm, and he tightened his fist in anger for just a second before forcing himself to relax.
Elizabeth raised her chin, looking at him defiantly. “I dinna need to tell ye anything.” There was such rebelliousness in her voice that he was stunned, motionless, and thoughtless for a moment. What had he ever done to deserve this?
Without thinking, Terrence was swiftly upon her, invading her space. He grabbed her upper arms, prepared to make good on his earlier desire to shake some sense into her. But just as quickly, when he realized what he was doing, he dropped her delicate limbs, feeling callous and horrible. Guilt washed over him in a wave. The fact that she’d been able to remain away for two years and hadn’t so much as given him any information since walking through his door, was a testament to her conviction to her cause. Mishandling her wasn’t going to get him anywhere.
And he knew better. But damn, was he frustrated right now.
“Where is Linden?” Every word he pronounced slowly, through gritted teeth, trying like hell not to shout. “Tell me now, or I swear to the heavens I’ll have you locked up for the rest of your days in Newgate.”
How could he even imply that Linden was still alive? Did he really think all this time tha
t Linden had simply disappeared?
Elizabeth’s mouth fell open, the shock permeating her body so much that she took a step back—not so much from fear he would hurt her, but from the vehemence in his tone. In all the days she’d known Terrence, not once had he reacted that way. Never laid hands on her. Had not so much as raised his voice. Today was the first day she’d ever heard him utter anything in a tone other than cordial. When he issued orders at the docks, he was careful to convey his appreciation for his staff. When he rebuked a worker, he did so in a manner that was more concerned than irritated.
But he was vexed with her right now. More than that—he was furious. It only fueled her anger, however, which seemed to be a good thing. For now, instead of watching him with eyes that remembered his kindness and his kisses, she could pretend he was the monster she’d been led to believe he was.
“How dare ye.” Elizabeth’s hands came to her throat as though she might be able to force her breath to release.
“Pardon?” Terrence’s brows furrowed, and some of his antipathy slipped away to be replaced by confusion. Perhaps sensing or seeing the horror inside her, he said more softly, “What happened, Elizabeth? It’s all I’ve been asking since you walked through the door.”
“Ye…” She couldn’t speak. After all that they’d shared—months of courtship and wooing and sweet bliss—he had reversed their roles and played her for a fool. There was nothing for it. Elizabeth couldn’t continue this conversation, not knowing whether Terrence would lie to her or if he’d feel compelled to tell the truth.
She whirled on her heel and lunged for the entry door. Relief blasted through her when the cool metal rotated, and her skirts rustled against the frame of the door. He’d not stopped her. Not reached her in time.
She was free.
Terrence’s fancy boots clicked quickly behind her, but not fast enough. She forced herself not to turn around and look behind her, to see him coming closer. Escape was the only thing on her mind. Down the perfectly appointed brick steps, she went. Across the walking path, her shoes crunched. She sailed through the gate, lurching away from the place where James, the valet, had hidden earlier, though no one jumped out at her this time. What a fool she’d been to walk this way. Elizabeth had no idea what she’d been thinking.
