She loved him; still, she knew that. She’d love him until her last breath. And when she’d touched him before, she’d felt magic.
He reached out and took her hand.
Butterflies danced in her chest, and her skin tingled.
It was there—the magic. And if anything, it was even stronger. Her heart sang and cried at the same time.
“I wanted to tell you the truth. So many times—”
He squeezed her fingers. “You didn’t do it maliciously. I realize that now.” He shrugged again. “At the time… I was out of my mind.”
“Because of the money. Of course.”
He stopped at that and turned. “Yes. Because of the money. But also because of you. It’s been difficult for me to separate my feelings.”
Priscilla nodded. She’d wondered about this.
“Because I represented the money. I represented your chance for freedom.” But there had always been this spark between them.
“Yes. You.” He made a soft sound. “You were like a gift from heaven, everything wrapped up in this one perfect woman. When I realized part of it wasn’t real, I questioned all of it. And now—”
“I understand.” It had been the bane of her despair these past few weeks.
But she also understood why he had come today.
He’d made love to her, and he’d since discovered her to be an earl’s daughter. As an honorable gentleman, regardless of her betrayal, he’d feel compelled to offer for her.
But such a union would be painful. She didn’t want his pity. All she’d ever wanted was his love. And even when he’d considered her to be a gift from heaven, he’d not returned the sentiment.
“Before I took my leave from Cliffhouse,” she said. “I wrote you a letter—”
“The letter I tore into pieces.”
“Yes.” She hated that particular memory. “In it, I explained that I had a sizable dowry, that I could help you.” She slid her gaze over to his with a wince. “You see, I too was feeling desperate.” She’d told him she loved him. She’d begged his forgiveness, all but promising him that he could have her dowry. She had thrown herself at him, quite pathetically, really.
Because she’d given him her body, but more than that her heart, her soul.
And she’d been desperate for him not to hate her.
He blinked, possibly wondering what he’d have done with the knowledge. It was something she’d wondered often enough herself.
She stared ahead as they walked.
The pleas she’d made in that letter had been the rantings of a desperate woman.
“Even though the knowledge could have kept you out of prison, I’ve since been relieved that you destroyed it.”
“Why?” One of his fingers stroked the back of her hand, sending a shiver through her.
“Because I didn’t want to use money to keep you. I still don’t.”
Her words brought him to a halt again, but this time, he turned to face her, keeping her so close that she could barely resist the urge to step into his arms.
“Your brother came to the prison yesterday. I’ve been free for over twenty-four hours.”
“Yes.” She swallowed hard.
“I wanted to go straight to you.” He laughed. “Your brother suggested I clean up first. But while I was doing that, I had a few visitors. And I learned that an investment I’d made years ago—one I’d all but forgotten—had paid off.” Shaking his head, he laughed again—a sort of disbelieving laughter. “Spectacularly, really.”
