At Last Read Free Page A

hope ye’ll obey
the law and save me from his wrath.”
    Again she hesitated and Ian forced himself
to remain quiet, to not give in to the unprecedented and
uncharacteristic urge to drop to his knees and beg her to join him.
To spend the day with him. The day? He nearly laughed. More like a
fortnight. A month. A decade. He wasn’t certain what had come over
him, but whatever it was, there was no denying this fierce,
overwhelming desire to spend more time with her.
    “ Very well, Mr. Broderick.
I shall save you this once.”
    As they walked along he pointed out
different plants and regaled her with humorous stories of life in
Melrose, loving the sound of her laughter, enjoying her tales of
England, every moment strengthening his attraction to her. When
they paused by a trellis draped with fragrant roses, he paused and
looked into her intoxicating eyes. “These are Marlington Hall’s
finest roses. Would you like to gather some, Mrs. Mallory?
    She studied him and he tried his damnedest
to keep his expression blank to hide the want burning inside him,
but wasn’t certain he succeeded, wasn’t certain it was even
possible to do so. Wariness flickered in her eyes, followed by
curiosity, and then...then there was no mistaking the flare of
desire that kindled in her gaze, a heat that stole his breath.
Stole his heart.
    “ Are you trying to tempt
me with your roses...Ian?”
    Bloody hell, the mere sound of his name on
her lips drove every intelligent thought from his head. He searched
his empty mind for something witty, for a clever rejoinder, but the
blatant truth simply spilled out. “Yes. Are you tempted,
Sophia?”
    For an answer she held out her hand...
    He’d wrapped his fingers around hers, a
gesture that marked the start of the most incredible, happiest,
bloody amazing six weeks of his life. Sophia became his friend. His
lover. The axis upon which his world revolved. They’d stayed at the
small secluded hunting lodge on his property, a place he’d never
shared with anyone. She assumed it was the groundskeeper cottage,
and he didn’t disabuse her of the notion. She didn’t speak of her
past, didn’t ask about his. Instead they focused solely on each
other and the moment. He wanted to tell her the truth, but the time
never seemed right, even less so the longer they spent together.
But one night, when her time in Scotland was nearing its end, after
making love with a passion unlike anything he’d ever known, he
watched her sleep and could no longer rationalize his deception.
After vowing to tell her the truth the next morning, he’d gone to
sleep. And woken up alone. She left behind only a brief note--and a
man who was determined to find her. Little had he known how
difficult that quest would prove. Because as he soon learned, she’d
been equally dishonest with him about who she was.
    Looking at her now, the
darkness cloaking them, Ian fought to align his conflicting
emotions. His profound relief that he’d finally found her. His
anger at the way she’d left him. The enervating hurt that
she could leave
him. It didn’t help assuage his hurt that rather than being pleased
by his presence, she looked distressed and desperate to
flee.
    To insure that she didn’t, he grasped her
upper arm then pulled her away from the arc of light spilling from
the windows, behind a topiary potted in an enormous stone urn.
    “ What are you doing here,
Ian?” She tried to pull free of his hold, but he didn’t let
go.
    “ I’m here to see you,
Sophia. Or should I say Lady Winterbourne?” Before she could reply,
he continued, “Nay, not Lady Winterbourne--that’s far too formal
after the intimacies we shared. Do you recall those intimacies,
Sophia? Those times when I was so deep inside your body you said it
felt as though I touched your heart?”
    She closed her eyes and turned her face away
from him, and all the hurt and anger, frustration and confusion
that had consumed him since that morning he’d woken up alone