CHAPTER NINETEEN
When Gillian woke in the pale light of dawn, her first sight was John. He lay on his side next to her, with his head propped on his elbow, watching her. His gray eyes were heavy lidded, and a lock of hair fell over his brow, half hiding the injury there. She imagined how she must appear to him, though she wasn’t usually vain. But when this man looked at her, she wanted to be beautiful. Something in his expression now told her she was. She felt a thrill in her breast, and she smiled at him and reached to touch his face, running her thumb over the golden stubble on his jaw. He caught her hand and kissed her palm, his eyes on hers, filled with something that took her breath away.
“Is it time to get up?” she asked.
“Nay. It’s barely light. Go back to sleep.”
“With you watching me? I should check your head. I should—” She tried to rise, but he put his hand on her shoulder, pressed her gently back against the boughs.
“There’s nothing wrong with my head. Well, there’s a lump, but otherwise, it’s as good as it usually is.” She put her hand up to touch it, but he caught her fingertips. “Truly, I’m fine, Gillian. Let it be. And you, sweetheart?” He looked at the bruise on her cheek, ran his eyes over her and swallowed.
“I’m fine,” she said quickly. “Better than fine.” She slid her arm around his neck and kissed him. He kissed her back, pulling her close.
“Is it possible to do it again?” she asked as he kissed her ear.
He laughed. “Greedy wench.”
She frowned. “Am I? Is it wrong then?”
“Nay, lass, you’re perfect.” The bright light in his eyes darkened. “But it’s daylight now. There will be people looking for you, wanting to know you’re safe.”
“I am safe,” she said. “I’m with you.”
He rolled away from her. “Gillian, you belong to another man. What would he say if—”
She sat up and stopped his words with a kiss. “I belong to you, John.”
Hesitation and torment swirled in the gray depths of his eyes. “I wish that were true, or even possible.”
“Why can’t it be?”
He laughed. “Your father, your sister . . .myfather for that matter. I have nothing to offer you.”
“Because you were disowned?” she said. “There’s more to your story, isn’t there? What happened when you went home?”
He laughed bitterly. “You want all if it, do you? Every detail?”
“Aye,” she said simply, wondering if he’d tell her. He scanned her face, and she waited for him to decide.
He looked away with a sigh. “All right then. My father was more angry than sorrowful when I told him. He blamed me for all of it—for Daniel’s death, for drawing him into my rake’s life of disrepute and sin. He said he’d see me hang before giving me his title in my brother’s place. But he needed an heir, of course, and my mother was long dead.”
He paused, was silent for so long she thought he’d changed his mind, wouldn’t tell her after all. She shook his arm gently. “There’s nothing you can say that would make you less in my eyes, John. I see—know—what kind of man you truly are.”
He stared at her. “You are a remarkable woman. I’m not sure if you’re just naive, or—Oh, lass. I’m not worth what I can see in your eyes. If I’d seen it last night—”
“Dawn always comes. It’s a new day, and I’m not ashamed of what we did. Are you?”
He studied his hands. “I have more experience. I know better than to play with innocents.”
“Even an innocent can know what she wants, what’s right for her.”
He laughed harshly. “Then youshouldhear the rest of the story. I’m not blameless or shameless. It will clear the stars from your eyes.”
She simply waited, gave him space to speak, to trust her.
He sighed. “After I spoke to my father I went to see Daniel’s betrothed, to tell her she was free. I left out the part about Hurit, gave Dorothea and her family the barest details. Dorothea’s mother wept. Her father knew how Clive felt about me. He wisely suggested that I give my father time to grieve. He believed that he would see things more clearly in a few days. Dorothea looked—cold. I thought it was shock, that she’d fall apart later, in private, cry for the man she’d known and loved all her life. Ithoughtshe loved him.”
“But she didn’t?”
