She leaned down and placed her forehead against the top of his head, breathing deeply of his woodsy scent. “Thank you.” She didn’t realize that she wept until she heard it in her voice.
“No, no! Duchess, don’t cry. You were magnificent.” His hand slid around her neck and tangled in her hair.
“I grieve for Phillip and his Eloisa, for Gideon in the face of all that was done to him.”
He raised his head to peer at her, his face inches from hers. “They are decent men. The truth will hurt them less, in the end, than the lies.”
She thought he meant to kiss her then—she longed for it—but he pulled back. “I need your courage, Duchess. I need your strength. I came to ask for it.”
She raised a shaking hand and smoothed a lock of his thick hair back from his eyes. “Anything,” she breathed.
“Some things have to be faced, no matter how painful. I saw that today. Come with me tomorrow to visit Mary Carew.”
Momentarily stunned, Maddy held her breath. She hadn’t expected this. She swallowed and breathed deeply, moved past words by the trust he put in her, the enormous step he wished to share with her.
“I’m sorry.” He sank back to sit on the floor between Maddy and the fire. “I have no right to ask you to face my personal demons. Not after what you went through today. I’m sorry. After Kendrick left and you retired, His Grace spoke with Rhys about mine operations—safety and the need for reform. They plan to visit Morgan One tomorrow. I thought—” He pulled his gaze away from hers, shaking his head. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. It was all he could say.
“Yes.”
His head came up, and his eyes met hers. “Yes?”
“Yes, I’ll come with you. If you don’t see her now, you may never. It has shadowed your life too long. The truth is better faced, Brynn.”
He surged forward and pulled her from the chair, into his arms, his mouth finding hers instinctively as they knelt body to body before the fire, the kiss deepening. Madelyn, helpless against the onslaught of passion, clung to his shoulders and searched his mouth as if she might find the secret of her very existence there, her awareness slipping away as the bulky robe fell to the floor and Brynn’s lips explored her cheek, her ear, her neck, her mouth, ensnaring her in a flood of pleasure.
When his hand slipped over the thin silk of her nightgown to caress her breast, she froze. Memories of other, rougher hands seizing her—pinching and bruising—in anticipation of yet more hurt, rose, and primitive fears, born of Randolph Tavernash’s demands, drove desire from her as surely as ice water might have. The tender fingers undoing laces at her neck stilled, his palm went flat against her shoulder, and he raised his head.
He shook with an intake of breath and put his hands on either side of her face, twining those glorious fingers in her hair. “I need to leave,” he murmured, his mouth inches from hers. Unable to speak, Maddy darted her tongue from her dry mouth to lick her lip, and he responded with a moan, taking her mouth in a kiss fiercer than the first.
When he stood, pulling her with him, she clamped an iron will over her fears and leaned into him, expecting him to carry her to the bed. Instead, he set her away from him, one gentle hand holding her while the back of his other hand caressed her cheek. “Too much. Too fast. I’m sorry, Maddy.”
No!Brynn didn’t understand.Please do it now while I’ve steeled myself. I can endure… Thoughts tumbled over each other, confusing and contradictory. The words would not come out.
He broke off and stepped away.
“Brynn, I—”
He put a knuckle to her lips to stop her from speaking. “We’re both tied in emotional knots tonight. Let’s be wise. Nothing good can come of this. Not as long as I have nothing but more sorrow and burdens to offer you. Tomorrow, Duchess. I’m more grateful than I can say.” He was gone before she could respond. She clutched the treasure of his trust to her heart, cold comfort on a frigid Welsh night.
*
The ride toMorgan One, two hours of trees and rolling hills, gave Maddy time—perhaps too much—to consider what had passed, and what had not, between herself and Brynn the night before. Nothing in her experience of the marriage bed gave her reason to yearn for more; her reaction to his intimate caresses should be an end to it. And yet she desired Brynn Morgan.
His departure created a deep ache, a well of thwarted passion that left her both frustrated and confused. There could be no other word thandesirefor the ache she felt, no other reason the sight of his broad shoulders and straight back, riding a few yards in front of her, should cause her breath to catch, her heart to pound, her most feminine parts to—Even now, riding did not help.
What on earth was one to do with this cauldron of feeling? Maddy had no answer. Brynn, ever practical, had walked out, and part of her knew him to be sensible and correct—the part that wasn’t disappointed, the part that didn’t feel rejected. What could come of it if they made love? A night of passion? A discreet, torrid affair?
Marriage, of course, came to mind. What had he said the night before?“As long as I have nothing”—the foolish man put honor above all else and believed a person in his impoverished condition had no way to pursue her. He would without question treat Maddy with honor. But marriage? Her first experience had left her determined never to submit to the institution again. She wasn’t even sure she could endure lovemaking without panic.
A hare bolted across their path, but she controlled her restive mount easily enough. Brynn gazed back at her to make certain she had the horse under control, the concern in his eyes warming her to her toes. Even the brisk December wind didn’t cool her. Marriage to such a man might be no hardship.
But“I have nothing”—Maddy had nothing to bring to marriage, either, even if she overcame her fears of intimacy, and she couldn’t see Brynn in the Caulfield dower house. His pride would never let him be dependent on David. Poor David. God knew he had his own struggles.
“Maddy?” Brynn called from a turn ahead. The others had outpaced her while she’d wallowed in her own confusion.
She hastened to catch up only to find that the turn led down to a colliery. Morgan One. Ahead, Rhys and Phillip spoke only of mining operations. Phillip, at least, could put his problems aside for a day. Maddy would do the same. She could do nothing about Phillip’s dilemmas, nor could she resolve what lay between Brynn Morgan and herself. But Brynn, grim and tight as a knotted rope, had his own problems. She could do this much: she would lend him support when he faced his demons.
The colliery appeared as well run as she expected, more even than the Kendrick mining operation. She shot a prayer of thanks for Rhys Morgan’s influence on Phillip. When they dismounted, Brynn told his brother he would walk to the village. Rhys didn’t try to conceal his surprise, but he didn’t comment.
