Juliet could not move, could not breathe. She could only stare up at him, mesmerized…and hoping.
He cried out, caught her face in both of his large, warm hands, and suddenly his mouth was on hers.
In her dreams, his kisses had always been tender, soft, and barely there. This was nothing like her dreams. It was far, far more.
His mouth moved passionately over hers. Instinctively Juliet opened her lips beneath his, and suddenly his tongue was inside her, twisting with hers. Juliet clung to his strong shoulders. Her body had come gloriously alive in a way she had never even imagined possible. She shook, she was on fire. On tiptoe she strained feverishly for him as their mouths mated and fused.
It was Hawke who finally raised his head, tearing his mouth from hers. He was panting. Juliet made a small mewling sound of protest.
“Oh God,” John gasped when he could speak. He touched Juliet’s face reverently, then brushed back her hair, which was wild and loose now, hanging to her waist. He began stroking her face with the fingertips of his right hand, which was shaking. “Juliet,” he said.
Juliet still leaned against his magnificent, hard male form. She still clung to his crimson uniform. Breathless, dazed, she managed to smile at him. “I love you,” she said softly, meaning it with all of her heart and all of her being.
He froze.
Juliet suddenly realized what she had said—and what she had done. Reality intruded. John Hawke was not a free man. She was not a free woman. Stricken, she dropped her hands from his chest as if burned, and backed away, stumbling.
Oh, God—what had she done!
“Stop!” he cried, grabbing her by her shoulders, and pulling her close. “Do not turn from me now,” he commanded.
Juliet could not speak, and as he held her so forcefully, she could not move away even if she had really wished to.
“Katherine belongs with O’Neill,” John said. “I am going to petition Canterbury for a divorce.”
Juliet gasped. Her mind reeled. No, this could not behappening. No, her dreams could not possibly be coming true.
But his next words proved that dreams did come true. “Juliet,” he said huskily, hesitating. “Juliet—I wish to marry you—if you will but have me.”
Juliet cried out. “Yes, John, yes.”
Hawke smiled. “I think I have loved you for a very long time,” he said.
“And I have loved you since I first saw you,” she said daringly.
He took her hand. “I will speak to your uncle today. I think I can convince him of the merits of this marriage, of the joining of our two neighboring estates.”
“And if he refuses?” Juliet asked with some fear.
Hawke smiled tenderly. “Then we will run away.”
It was daring, it was romantic. And Hawke was so strong that she was not afraid. Juliet laughed. And then she saw the look in his eye and she became utterly still.
His head lowered, hers lifted. And they moved together in a dance as old as time, there in the arbor beneath the gnarled oaks and the ancient elms—a dance which would last them a lifetime.
Katherine was eager to leave London. No one would ever think to look for her at Stanley House. But even more importantly, Gerald had revealed to her that Leicester knew she was hiding at St. Leger House—and that he planned to remove her to one of his own estates in northern England within days. Katherine could not depart London soon enough.
She was well aware that she owed Leicester for his part in obtaining Liam’s freedom. Nonetheless she sought to avoid him, and postpone what she must eventually do. Yet it did not take much thought for her to know that it would be better to pay back Leicester now, before Liam returned for her, than afterward. Yet Katherine could not linger. Panic propelled her, and she ran not just from the queen’s men, but from Her Majesty’s powerful lover.
Mary Stanley was expecting her. As soon as Katherine entered the small courtyard of the manor house, the frontdoor opened, framing a slender blond woman in an elegant dress.
At once, Katherine saw that Liam resembled his mother. She was blond and gray-eyed and very beautiful; her face was but a softer, female version of her son’s. From all accounts, Mary had suffered greatly in her lifetime, yet this woman appeared as elegant and self-contained as any noble lady.
Katherine slid from her mount, aided by one of the men sent to escort her. She had been uncertain of what Mary’s greeting to her would be, but when she realized that the other woman was smiling warmly at her, she was relieved. Mary embraced her and escorted her inside and upstairs to the small bedchamber she would use.
“My son has told me much about you, and I feel as if we are old and dear friends,” Mary said as she opened the door.
Katherine was amazed. What had Liam said about her? And had he really talked to his mother at length about her? “I wish to be your friend, Lady Stanley.”
