“I am glad you came to say goodbye,” he said. And he was. She could have left the country without a word, for she owed him nothing. He was glad of her company, but he hardly knew how long he could remain standing, after the effects of the medicine. “Would you like tea?”
Lily shook her head. “I cannot stay for very long. Only a little while.”
Matthew closed the door behind him, even knowing how improper this was. For a moment, he remained next to the door while his vision blurred, and he felt lightheaded. The tonic was indeed working, and he would need to say his farewell quickly.
He crossed the room to stand by her. “I am glad you are here, Lily. And I did enjoy our walk in the garden the other night.” For a moment, he regarded her, fully aware of her beauty and the faint perfume of her soap. If he were a different man, he wouldn’t have pushed her away. He might have renewed his pursuit.
“In spite of all that’s happened, I do want to remain friends.” She ventured a smile at him, though he could not return it just now.
The effects of the tonic had grown stronger, and there was now a ringing in his ears. It felt as if he were viewing Lily’s face from underwater, and the room tipped sideways. He reached for a chair, catching his balance.
“I realize I’ve not been myself since I returned.” He sensed that once she left for Ireland, nothing would be the same. He traced the outline of his signet ring upon his finger, remembering how it had hung on a chain around her throat.
Lily gripped his hands a moment, as if she were trying to hold on to the past. “I suppose I was naïve to imagine that we could continue on as we were before. Two years is a long time.”
The medicine seemed to intensify his emotions and heighten his senses. He could smell the fragrance of her hair, and the smallest details sharpened. Her hazel eyes were the deep green of summer grass, rimmed with a circle of light brown. Her mouth was the color of a rose, and memories flashed through him of the last time he had shared her bed.
“Is something wrong?” Lily asked. “You look….odd somehow.”
Hefeltodd. He sat down upon the chaise longue and blinked, trying to clear his vision. “I took a tonic a little while ago. To help me sleep.”
Lily glanced at the doorway and came closer. “Your eyes don’t look right, Matthew. I think you should lie down before you fall over.”
It seemed as if his mind were caught in a tunnel, and his voice slurred when he spoke. “I agree.” But then his mouth continued speaking, “You could lie down with me.”
She smiled at that. “I don’t think that would be proper. But this medicine does seem to put you in better spirits, doesn’t it?”
It felt as if his mind and mouth were disconnected, and he heard himself say, “Do you know how beautiful you are, Lady Lily?”
This time her smile faded. “Please don’t say that, Matthew. I need to go now.”
“Don’t go,” he murmured, reaching up to cup her cheek. She froze, and those hazel eyes turned stricken.
“Matthew, you’re not yourself.” But she didn’t pull away.
His pulse quickened, and he could feel the blood racing through his veins. He couldn’t say what possessed him at this moment, but he needed to kiss her, to taste that soft mouth. He threaded his hands through her hair, drawing her lower.
“W-what are you doing?”
“I want to remember kissing you,” he answered. And the moment his mouth touched hers, it was as if the rest of the world fell away. The deep hunger rose within him in a fierce crescendo, one he could never quench. Though he knew it was wrong to press her like this, on a deeper level, he wanted so much more.
Lily kept him at a distance, but he sensed the moment when she relaxed against him and kissed him back. This woman fit with him like no other. Her hands moved down his face to hisshoulders. His shirt had come loose, and she slid her palms beneath it, pressing her hands against his bare back.
The sudden flash of memory seared him the moment she touched his scars. His mind blurred with the hazy effects of the tonic, and Lily’s face disappeared, replaced by the woman who had tortured him.
No longer did he see hazel eyes staring at him with passion. Instead, he saw a woman’s brown eyes and her mocking smile that revealed he was her prisoner. When he glanced down at the chair, he saw a wooden stool.
His arms were bound behind him with ropes that cut into his wrists. The hot desert sun burned upon his bare skin, and he wore nothing except his smallclothes.
Behind her stood a hooded man in robes. In the man’s hand, he saw a glowing red poker.
“Where are the British troops?” she demanded.
“I was not part of the army. I don’t know where they are.” He tensed as the hooded man drew closer, holding the hot poker near his face.
“You lie. My men saw you with the soldiers.” The woman nodded toward the assassin. “Start with his back,” she said. “He will tell us everything.”
Matthew struggled to free himself, but a searing pain blazed upon his shoulders. He could smell burning skin and a hoarse cry escaped him. The poker was lifted away, but fire radiated through his scorched flesh.
