‘It’s time when I say it is.’
Rebecca wrenched herself from him and stared at him reproachfully. ‘And when is that,my lord? When you are married? When more discover what has passed between us? When does it end—howdoes it end—if not now, like this? This story does not end well. We both know that. Now, let me go,’ she pleaded.
And even as he knew he should, as he could not before, so he could not now.
‘Please, Liam.’
‘No,’ he rasped, taking her face between his hands. ‘I cannot. God help me, I cannot.’
He pulled her to him then, and kissed her with fierceness and passion, possessing, demanding and unyielding. He would not let her go; he would end her torment and set her free, as he could not free himself. He would not think of what might come to pass, of how things might end. For now, he knew he would die if he released her.
And so he took everything she had left to give.
Took everything which meant she could leave him.
‘God help us both, Liam,’ she cried as he finally broke the kiss.
‘I will keep you safe,’ he whispered to her after a moment, his hands still clutching hers. ‘I swear it. We’ll find a way. Now, please, come home.’
Unable to speak, Rebecca simply nodded, and let Liam lead her back to Thornhallow.
Chapter Twenty-Two
‘Here,’ Liam said gruffly, forcing a glass of whisky into Rebecca’s hands before resuming his pacing, looking every bit a caged, snarling beast.
He’d been doing that since he’d dragged her back inside, sat her on the sofa and thrown a blanket on her shoulders, nearly half an hour ago. There was nothing to do but let him. Soon, he would come to the same conclusion she had years ago.
Rebecca was numb, terrified and yet resolved. There was no doubt in her mind that her prince would find a way to her. The only thing she could do now was ensure Liam wasn’t caught in the middle. That he didn’t suffer trying to protect her. And he would. For, just as before, Liam refused to stop fighting.
If it hadn’t been so heartbreaking it might have warmed her. Chased away the cold numbness inside.
That’s what the whisky is for.
‘We’ll go to the magistrate,’ he declared finally to the flames, nodding his head as if trying to convince himself more than her.
‘And say what?’ she retorted flatly.
He turned, his eyes alight with indignant fire.
‘Francis never touched me. Even if he had, I have no proof.’
‘Ford is a good man,’ he bit back. ‘He’ll help us find a way. He helped with Hal.’
‘This isn’t covering up a tragedy such as that, Liam!’
He winced and she sucked in a deep breath, forcing her voice to remain even. His hopefulness and conviction were salt in the wound. Once, she, too, had believed there was a way. But no longer.
‘This is an accusation against a peer. Your neighbour.No.I will not stay hidden here, living in fear. I have to go.’
‘Then we’ll go together,’ Liam said, striding over and taking her hands in his.
Rebecca stared at him, uncomprehending, a vicious sliver of hope nearly clouding her own judgement as she looked into those eyes that would forever be her downfall.
‘Please,’ she begged, her voice cracking and what little remained of her strength wavering. The numbness was fading with every one of his protests, with his every touch, and the pain of it all tore into her. ‘Stop it. You cannot leave again. Not like this. Not for me.’
‘It wouldn’t be just for you,’ he breathed, looking down at their hands.
‘What?’
