Lys. A name that no amount of drink could dull. And a woman he should never have met and shouldn't want. But since that first meeting, not a moment had passed that he didn't find himself thinking about her, drawn to her, wanting her and knowing the risk.
Elyse Winslow, soon-to-be Lady Barrington, represented everything he despised—England with its iron-fist over the colony, the nobility with their entitlements that took away people's history, the ability to provide for their families, and for many—their names and who they once were.
He heard the sound from somewhere inside the house, a distant thumping sound as if a door had been left open. He heard it again and set the empty tumbler aside on the table beside the chair.
The downstairs lights had all been extinguished except for the light in the parlor and at the foyer. The sound came again from upstairs.
He climbed the stairs to the second-floor rooms and heard it again from the room Elyse Winslow occupied. He hesitated, his hand on the latch, then slowly pushed the door open.
She stood before the open glass doors, the only sound the bump of one of the doors against the wall as wind filled the room.
She wore the shirt she'd worn earlier, the wind whipping her hair about her shoulders, and stood motionless in the opening as the rain began. She didn't move, didn't seem to be aware of him or the rain. She might have been a ghost spirit the Aboriginals believed in, a creature that came with the wind and rain.
Lys.Was it only the sound of the wind, or something else as she stared out into the storm-filled night, and the memory of another storm at sea a long time ago? And she was so cold as those memories wrapped around her. Then, the warmth of a hand on hers.
She turned from the window opening as lightning lit up the night sky and the expression on her face, her eyes wide and dark, rain soaking her hair.
Was it a dream as the Aboriginals believed? Or something else? All he was aware of was that he knew her...had known her before, something that was deep inside him as he reached out and touched her face.
Elyse didn't pull away, couldn't breathe as his head lowered and she felt the faint brush of his mouth against hers. A small sob escaped, and she closed her eyes as he deepened the kiss, and a memory slipped out of the past.
The rain lashed at them as they stood there, soaking them both as she reached for him, and his arms closed around her. Then he was looking down at her, her breathing ragged, almost painful as he stared at her.
Who was she? Zach thought as he traced her face with his fingers... A dream? Dreams weren't real, but the young woman who stood there, her hand in his, was very real, tears mingling with the rain on her face, that gaze that fastened on his, and the taste of her. He whispered her name as he picked her up and carried her to the bed. Lys.
She didn't protest, but instead reached for him as he laid her on the bed and a memory slipped out of the shadows in the room, of another time and place, of a man and woman... as he slowly made love to her.
A touch, a kiss, the feel of her hand in his hands, the sound as her breath caught into the deep hours of the night, surrounded by the whisper of memories as their bodies joined.
Nine
"Have you lost your mind?" Tobias confronted Zach in the library of Lord Vale's home.
"She's Lady Winslow's granddaughter, engaged to Lord Barrington, and you bring her here? Good God, man! What were you thinking?"
Zach slammed the cup down so hard on the saucer that it shattered beneath his hand. He never even winced as blood seeped between his fingers.
"And where exactly was I to take her? The streets were filled with police. It was after midnight. I couldn't simply take her home and explain to Lady Winslow that her granddaughter had spent the evening with me at an exclusive men's club."
For the first time in weeks, Tobias was sober, just when Zach wished his friend were upstairs sleeping off the effects of the night before.
"And what do you presume to do this morning? How do you think you can explain to her grandmother and Lord Barrington that she spent the night in this house? Yer in too deep, lad. It's too dangerous. And do you think Miss Winslow will play along with whatever explanation you come up with?" He bellowed at the younger man, not caring that lack of sleep and this new problem made Zach's mood dangerous.
"And what good will it do if you bleed to death?" Tobias argued. Seizing a linen handkerchief from the silver service he'd brought in earlier, he bound Zach's hand.
Memories of the night before returned and regret was sharp. He must have been insane to go to her last night. Even now he didn't understand it. He was angry, angrier than he could ever remember being before. But not even anger could explain everything. It was as if a madness had come over him, driving him to her. If he could only have those hours back...
No, if he had them back, he'd make love to her all over again. And if he did, he knew he'd never be able to walk away from her. He pressed his fingers into his eyes, trying to drive the memory of those last hours from his thoughts.
He looked up as Tobias deliberately jerked the makeshift bandage tighter.
"She'll cooperate because she doesn't want anyone to know she was at that club last night." His gaze hardened. "She especially doesn't want to jeopardize her betrothal to Barrington. The man's wealth and title mean far too much. That' s why I want you to talk to her."
"Me?" Tobias’ gaze narrowed. "What makes you think she'll listen to me?"
Zach fixed his eyes on the distant wall, images of the recent hours of passion playing across his thoughts. "She'll have her reasons for not wanting to see me this morning!" His gaze returned back to Tobias’, but he did not quite cover his emotions quickly enough. His smile was ironic.
"She thinks I'm an impostor."
