The word had a delicious feel to it. She hadn’t had a lover since Roland. She’d never felt the desire for one until . . . now.
He held out his hand, and she knew she could refuse it. Baynton would let her walk away.
But if she took it, then she was accepting all of what he asked, and it had nothing to do with money or her play or houses. This was about them, about her and him, and about trust.
In that moment, Sarah realized what a great weight her life had become. She wasn’t just trying to survive—she was also dragging the burden of all her disappointments and her fears. Then again, her doubts came down to this one certainty: She’d trusted love once before and love had deceived her.
So, why not put her faith in respect and honesty? Perhaps her mother had been right when she’d claimed there was only one way a woman like her could survive.
And, Baynton had given Sarah paper.
Walking past his hand, she reached up and kissed him.
They stood in the shadows, off to the side of the traffic on the footpath, but it didn’t matter if anyone was attending them or not. In this moment, the only thing Sarah was aware of was the feeling of his lips against hers, of the slightly rough whiskers of his jaw beneath her hands.
He kissed back, greedily. Demanding. Hungry for her touch.
She started to panic and then told herself this was Gavin. Slowly, she allowed herself to relax and he did as well. The kiss deepened.
What had he said the night before? It wasn’t him she feared. That’s what he’d said . . . and he had been right.
No, what she feared was losing herself again the way she had with Roland. Did Gavin understand how much courage it took for her to be this close to him—?
He broke off the kiss. He bent down. “You’re crying again, just like last night. Sarah, what is it?”
She hadn’t even been aware of her tears and she could not explain them. She placed her hands up to her face, drying the damaging evidence with her gloves.
The duke took her hand. “Let’s leave.”
This time, he hired a hack to drive them across the bridge. The driver had no sooner started them on their way when Baynton turned to her and said, “Tell me.”
Sarah knew what he wanted. Her story. One she hadn’t fully shared with anyone. Once she’d told Charlene but not all of it, not the worst. She’d wanted Charlene to believe in the good of marriage. She’d wanted her niece open to taking her rightful station in life.
“I asked you last night who hurt you,” he prodded.
Sarah felt her chest constrict at his words. It became hard to breathe. She started to ease away from him, wanting a boundary of space.
However, Gavin would have none of that. “You must speak.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can,” he said quietly.
“I can’t breathe.”
“You are breathing.”
She shook her head as if to deny his words, although he was right. She knew it, she understood, but still she held back.
“Was he your husband?” Gavin asked.
Sarah nodded.
“Not a good one, I imagine.”
She shook her head.
“What was his name?”
