“We can run away. You can go anywhere and I shall go with you.”
Pressure squeezed his throat. He moved his thumbs in tiny circles against her arms, holding her eyes, wishing he could banish the tears he inflicted.
“William …”
He did nothing more than shake his head.
Her face crashed. Hurt infested her eyes, overflowed in another rush of tears, and made her tremble beneath the grip he forced himself to release. He did not speak because he could not trust his voice.
He could not trust himself.
Goodbye.With one last long look at her, he headed back through the garden. He crunched the pea gravel with his boots, squeezed through a row of boxwoods, then leaped over the stone fence. He choked the cool, fragranced air into his lungs.
No matter where he went, or how many years stood between them, he would never forget tonight. He would never forget how hard it had been to walk away. He would never forget how much he had loved her … how much he would always love her.
God help him and God forgive him for that.
Before, she had been uncertain. Even in her realization that she was in love with him, a small niggle of doubt had weaved itself through her—and she had been unsure if it was madness to allow her heart such liberties with a stable hand.
But it did not matter. She knew that now. As soon as he’d shaken his head and walked away from her, every doubt and confusion and uncertainty had vanished.
She loved him. She loved him from the beginning and end of herself, in more ways than she understood—and the miracle of it was he loved her too.
He never said as much.
Nor did she.
But it was in his eyes and in the shake of his head. He had walked away for her sake. She had begged him for marriage, but he had rejected such a scheme because he had nothing to offer.
He had more to offer than he realized.
He had everything. Hewaseverything. He was a king, a prince, a royal knight, a noble gentleman. He was all the things Father was too blind to see, and she would never be able to live without him.
She needed him.
Yet he was lost to her. The power of that, the torture, settled down on her and forced her back to the iron bench. She covered her face for a second time. How could she endure this? How could she ever look at Father, knowing he had not only forced a loveless fate on himself but on her too?
Somewhere near, something snapped and crunched, like footsteps crushing foliage.
She stood, glanced about. The garden was motionless, the shadows deep and unstirring, yet she sensed she was not alone. Was it possible William had returned?
Taking one step forward, she hugged her own arms. She was too afraid to hope. “William?”
“I fear not, Miss Gresham.”
She jerked back around. Her heartbeat faltered at the shadow. “Lord Livingstone.” She pressed her hand to her chest to still the mayhem beneath her fingertips. “You frightened me.”
His eyes were luminous in the moonlight. They smiled. They never smiled.
Something cracked the back of her skull. She must have hit the ground, because small gravel stones pressed into her face and a pair of boots stomped into her vision. Everything blurred. Spun in circles.What—
“Get her up. Come.”
Pain splintered like lightning as she was dragged upward. She tried to claw. Maybe she did. But the world spun upside down, something wet rushed down her neck, and swirling blackness caved in on her.
No.Her last coherent thought.Please, no.
William slowed Duke with a pull of his reins. He swung around in his saddle. There it was again, but louder.
