The Rock Read online

  He couldn’t have let this happen, damn it. Not again. It was different this time. She wasn’t blind and unaware of her feelings for him anymore. She wasn’t a clueless young girl. She loved him—and he would prove it to her.

  Elizabeth felt a chill sweep behind her neck right before Randolph kissed her.

  Nay, not Randolph, Thomas. The horror of his given name hit her for the first time. Dear God, she would be calling her husband by the name of the man she loved. Every time she spoke Randolph’s name in intimacy, she would be thinking of another.

  If that wasn’t enough to cast a pall on the moment, she had the distinct sensation of being watched.

  It distracted her enough that she barely noticed the press of Randolph’s mouth on hers before it was gone.

  “There,” he said, as if he’d finally completed an unpleasant task. “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  It was . . . nothing. She felt nothing. Had she not known earth-shattering, she might have thought it pleasant enough. But, as there didn’t seem to be a really good way of answering what seemed more a rhetorical question, she merely gave him a tentative smile.

  Glancing around, she could see that they were alone and the hair at the back of her neck relaxed.

  “Now that we have that out of the way, we need not worry about it tomorrow, and we can get back to being friends. How does that sound?”

  A genuine smile turned her lips. “It sounds wonderful.”

  And it did. It was all so perfectly reasonable and civilized. There was no need for awkwardness, no need for pretense. They didn’t love one another, nor did they need to to have a successful marriage. Mutual respect, honesty, and friendship—that was enough to make her happy.

  Of course it was. She was doing the right thing. No more than what countless noblewomen had done before her. Why should she be any different?

  22

  DESPITE HER NEWFOUND clarity, Elizabeth couldn’t sleep. Perhaps it was the excitement of tomorrow? If the emotion fluttering wildly in her chest felt more like fear than excitement, she told herself it was only natural. The signing of the betrothal contract and the exchange of vows were nearly as binding as marriage. Breaking it wouldn’t be easy, and at the very least would require a hefty payment of recompense.

  It was well after midnight when she admitted defeat in finding sleep. Slipping out of her chamber past a sleeping Izzie and the two of the tiring women who’d accompanied them, Elizabeth headed down the single flight of stairs.

  Fresh air would help. As a young lass she would have climbed to the roof, but since the simple pitched roof of the guesthouse wasn’t accessible, she headed outside. Perhaps a turn about the courtyard would help to settle her?

  There would be no stars to look to tonight. The blast of misty cold air hit her as soon as she opened the door, which she did carefully so as not to alert anyone to her nighttime outing.

  She was glad for the extra plaid she’d thought to take from her bed to go over her night rail and thick fur-lined dressing robe, but it was still cold enough to almost make her reconsider. The pebbles dug into her feet through the thin soles of her slippers as she walked along the path. A very light dusting of snow had spread over the hard winter ground, as she could feel icy dampness seeping into the soft leather around her toes.

  Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. She didn’t want to catch a chill.

  She started to turn around when someone grabbed her from behind. She was too shocked to scream at first, and by the time she recovered, she recognized who it was.

  Strangely she wasn’t that surprised that Thom had found her tonight. When they were growing up, he’d always seemed to sense when she needed him. Or rather when she was restless and couldn’t sleep. She didn’t need him . . . did she?

  He’d wrapped his arm around her waist and held her snug against the hard—the very hard—shield of his body. It was the same way he’d held her when he’d talked about doing all those wicked things to her from behind, and she would know the feel of him against her anywhere. Just as she would know the scent of leather and soap and the warmth of his spicy breath against her ear.

  “Second thoughts?”

  She stilled at the menacing sneer in his tone. “Aye,” she said, her breath slightly uneven—from the cold, of course. “It’s too cold to be outside tonight.”

  With a low growl, he pulled her in even tighter. The air in her lungs escaped in a hard gasp.

  “That isn’t what I meant, and you know it. Did you not wish to tell me something, my lady?”

  Elizabeth felt her pulse leap as the blood started racing through her veins. He knows.

  She was almost glad he was holding her from behind, so she didn’t have to see the hurt and anger in his eyes as he looked at her.

  “Nothing to say?” he demanded.

  Elizabeth knew he was angry—and had a right to be—but she wasn’t going to let him intimidate her. She twisted out of his arms and turned to face him.

  She nearly took a step back. Good gracious, he was intimidating. Every muscle in his body seemed drawn up and flared, and his expression was every bit as dark and menacing as his voice, but it was his eyes that jolted her. They pinned her with a fierce intensity she’d never experienced before. She felt like a misbehaving heathen being brought before a panel of inquisitors: guilty, condemned, and about to do penance—or be burned at the stake.

  She took a deep breath and forced her gaze to meet his. She hadn’t done anything of which to be ashamed. She’d been honest with him about her plans. “What would you like me to say? You obviously know I’ve agreed to marry the earl. I’m sorry you had to find out like this. I would have told you myself, but Jo said you were away.”

  “Did you not think you owed me an answer first? Did I not deserve an explanation before you agreed to marry someone else?” The dark expression cracked, revealing a flash of his tormented emotions. “Damn it, El, I saw him kiss you.”

  The blood slipped from her face, her chest pinched in horror . . . and guilt. “Oh God, Thom, I’m sorry. It . . .”

  What could she say? It didn’t mean anything? But it did. It meant everything. She was marrying someone else, and they both would have to accept that.

  She drew herself up and took a deep breath. “I did try to tell you the other day, but you didn’t want to hear it.” He’d kissed her before she could finish her refusal.

  It was obvious he still didn’t want to hear it. “What if I’d come back tomorrow? It could have been too late.”

  It was already too late.

  He must have seen the resolve on her face. “You can’t marry him. You don’t love him. You love me.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  He looked shocked. “You aren’t going to deny it?”

  She shrugged. “My feelings don’t make any difference.”

  He stared at her in disbelief. “Are you telling me you love me, and it doesn’t matter?”

  A gust of wind made her shiver. She drew the plaid tighter around her shoulders as she stared up at him, not knowing what to say.

  He swore and led her into the closest outbuilding—which happened to be the stables. The pungent scents and sultry air enveloped her. Perhaps the smell would be distracting? Though Lord knew it hadn’t been distracting enough last time. Last time . . .

  Don’t think of that.

  Sliding the door behind them, he said, “It will be warmer in here. The smell could be better, but at least you will be out of the wind.”

  “I should go.”

  “Not until we are finished.”

  “We are finished. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

  “How can you say that?” He reached down and cupped her face in a big, callused hand that seemed to swallow her up. “Christ, sweetheart, you just told me you loved me.”

  The tenderness and happiness in his gaze made her chest tug hard against her ribs and nearly stole her breath.

  She looked away. “It isn’t enough.”