Their gazes collided, the flames in his eyes darkened as his pupils dilated. In the meager light, his eyes fixed upon her.
Elizabeth had not the slightest wish to embrace that threat or to cultivate it. Yet for one sweet moment, she caved to her fantasy. “You shouldn’t–”
He caught her chin in his hand and stroked the curve of her jaw with his thumb. Her skin grew hot, her mouth went dry. She was unable to breathe. Steady now. He lowered his head, his lips hovering above her. Was he going to kiss her? She had never been kissed before. At least, she couldn’t remember being kissed. What would it feel like? To be really kissed. Luscious anticipation and the slow burn of curiosity and desire curled through her.
He took her in his arms, crushed his mouth to hers, kissed her longingly and deeply, igniting a bone-melting fire that spread through her blood, consuming her. His fingers splayed across her back, molding his rock-hard body against hers, and making her spine tingle. Unable to halt the overwhelming stirrings ensnaring her heart, she moaned into his mouth.
From the time she’d clapped her eyes on him, her fascination for him knew no bounds. And touching him now, she was incapable of resisting the fierce attraction between them.
She had dreamed of this, touching him, and he, touching her. Tentatively, she placed her arms around his neck, breathing in the spicy scent of him. He captured her mouth again in a light, teasing kiss, deepening the forceful demand of his mouth every bit as raw and unapologetic as it was seductive.
Images flashed. The sickening odor of noxious fumes, hairy, hands ripping her dress, scraping over her skin, pinching her nipples, clawing between her legs.
“No. I-I cannot do this.” She thrust him away from her. Hands trembling, she froze her arms to her sides. Her heart raced, nearly exploding. How could she explain her strange behavior? How could she fight the blurred fuzziness to clear her vision when every inch of her body screamed in pain.
He drew a ragged breath, straightened, and gave her distance. “I want you to know you are a beautiful and bright young woman. I’d never take advantage of you.” Silence loomed like a heavy mist, broken only by the orchestra striking a new set.“You are remembering what happened to you?” He handed her his handkerchief.
“I can’t remember,” she cried. “All I recall is a raspy voice. I’ll never forget that voice, and then the pregnancy and the humiliation.” She couldn’t look at Zachary anymore. Couldn’t see the wrath piercing at her with a marksman’s precision. Couldn’t face the shame.
Her composure finally broke, swallowing frantic gulps of emotion. He started to reach for her, stopped, as if sensing a touch would break her.
“You endured so much, Elizabeth.” He looked into her eyes with an intimacy and connection that Elizabeth felt all the way down to her toes.
Tears spilled from her lashes and washed down her cheeks, causing her breath to tremble in her chest.
Zachary clenched and unclenched his hands. “None of this is your fault. If I ever find the coward who did this to you, I’ll kill him.”
She dabbed her eyes again, dampening his handkerchief. “Please forgive my weakness. It does not bring out my best qualities. Could you just hold me?”
“You are far from weak.” He moved closer. A sparrow’s wing wouldn’t have survived in the space between them, and she could feel the sensation of him through every inch of her skin.
“Please,” she begged.
He slid his arms around her and tucked her head beneath his chin. His body was coiled as tight as a bowstring, and he said nothing more. Yet to her, he offered a tenderness, conveyed in his caring touch as they entwined their fingers. The shape of his hand fit hers, every joint and solid tendon and hard muscle designed for perfect alignment. Beating in the pulses of their wrists came strength, comfort, and hope. She would remember the feel of his hand around hers for the rest of her life.
“I-I want you to know that I’m not a wanton. To drag knives over my skin, to feel something other than degradation?” she said in a broken whisper.
“I believe you. There are evil men in this world. You were tricked. To me, you are innocent and very much like the lotus blossom,” he whispered.
“Lotus blossom?”
“Chen told me of the flower that rises from the mud and blooms in exquisite beauty, symbolizing perfection and purity of heart and mind.”
“Thank you. Do you know how refreshing it is to finally share my degradation with someone who believes me?”
“And not be judged by it? No. For me, your confession is like getting stoned with popcorn.”
She pushed from him, but he held her. “You think to make fun of me?” she accused.
Strong fingers lifted her chin. He brushed away a tear. “Miss Spencer, I want you to think how trifling your professed disgrace is to me.”
A world of complexities pulled her heart away from the gloom. His nearness, his acceptance of her, after so muchloneliness was like pulling her out of the quicksand and into the wild richness of air.
“Your mother and especially your father should be searching for the person who did this crime, not condemning you. If I ever find the bastard, he’ll find my Colt revolver planted in his chest.”
Something broke inside her. The relief that kindness existed in the world. How he negated all her fears and sufferings, lifting the heavy burden she carried. “I cannot thank you enough.”
Alva Spencer’s blistering and piercing cry galvanized them. “Elizabeth, what are you doing with this detestable profligate?”
