When she made him despise a solitary evening for one brief moment of her company. When she could warm him better than whisky with only a smile. If something so small could have such an effect, he wondered—
No. She is not for you.
Some men in his position might not be bothered by crossing lines with their employees, but despite the blackest marks on his soul, he wasn’t a cad. And dishonouring her, taking her fire for himself... Well, he may be selfish, and he may be damned, but he couldn’t do that to her. If he was going to forget himself and toe the line by conversing with her, he needed to abide by one very simple precept.
Do not touch. Keep your distance.
‘I will not deny I have neglected Thornhallow,’ he ceded. ‘As you say, it is a sad house. Full of painful memories. But it was thus long before I left it.’
‘Where did you go? I am sorry. I pry—’
‘Mrs Hardwicke, do stop apologising. You pry, but I see no harm in answering you.’ Telling her a little wouldn’t be so terrible after all. Would it? ‘Though I would ask you not to immediately run off to tell everyone of thehaut ton,’ he added wryly, before he could change his mind. ‘I fear it might quite put a tarnish on my dashing mystery.’
Rebecca eyed him carefully for a moment before a slight giggle escaped her.
Liam grinned—rather stupidly, he knew—as Rebecca composed herself and mimicked locking her lips shut.
‘In truth, I ran as far away from here as I could. The Continent for a while. Then the Americas, the Columbia District. The wild there, it reminded me of this place, only grander. And there was freedom to do anything. A man could be whatever he wished so long as he had the courage to face the trials of such a new country.’
‘I’ve heard tales of it... What did you do there?’ she asked eagerly.
‘I worked in trade,’ he said, his gaze travelling to the fire as he sipped his whisky again. ‘Travelled to different posts, secured new routes...’
The memories came upon him like some fierce and drowning wave, the faces and voices of those he’d lost taunting him. He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, attempting to banish them back to the dark, forgotten recesses of his soul.
‘My lord?’ Rebecca asked, concerned. ‘Are you well?’
Torn abruptly from his demons, Liam stared at her, bewildered, almost surprised at her presence.
You were meant to share a little. Not so much. Too much. Send her away.
‘Forgive me, Mrs Hardwicke,’ he managed after a moment. ‘I was quite lost in thought.’
‘You seem tired, my lord. I should leave you now.’
‘Please stay,’ he pleaded before he could stop himself.
Let. Her. Leave.
She eyed him again, measuring his request, as if she could see Liam’s desire for her to remain warring with his better self. He knew if she didn’t go, he would cross a line more threatening than if he simply took her to bed and buried himself within her, as he fervently wished to do. He wasn’t sure what it was about her—why he continually found it impossible to do without her when he would have sworn not long ago he needed no one.
Perhaps she was some manner of enchantress after all.
‘Something happened there,’ Rebecca said, going against her own better judgement, too, it seemed.
There was no pity, no curiosity, only concern and openness in her expression. Things which Liam, in his current state, could not resist even if he wanted to. Besides, soon he would be gone from this place, from her, so what harm could it do?
‘Yes.’
‘Your...nightmares. The night...’
‘Yes. Among other things.’
Rebecca nodded, and now there was only understanding in her expression.
She turned thoughtfully towards the fire, and Liam knew he could leave it there.Shouldleave it there. She was his housekeeper. Not a friend, lover or confidante. She had no right to know—no business knowing. He’d said too much already. And yet... Hewantedto confide in her. Needed to. Needed her to know something of what tormented him, of why he had nearly...
‘There was an American I worked with, and his son. He was the one who convinced me to cross the sea, to begin that new life,’ he blurted out. He thought about telling Rebecca about that night, but that would mean explaining so much more... ‘He’d lost his wife,’ he continued, clearing his throat, determined to remain clinical in his storytelling. ‘He was taking his son to start anew, and I went along. We worked together for years, and he was one of the best friends I ever had. There was a kinship, an understanding. I felt...part of his circle, part of something larger than myself, for the first time in a long while, and then...’
