Lady in Red, Eliza Knight [have you read this book TXT] 📗

With him so near, all she could do was stare into his gorgeous, smoky-blue eyes and remember the last time he’d kissed her. It had been the morning she’d escaped. They’d made love the entire night through. She could still feel the tingles on her skin—or was that renewed desire for him?

She’d kissed him goodbye, putting every ounce of herself into that last kiss, knowing she wasn’t coming back, praying she’d never see him again, and then she’d made herself disappear. She had cried enough to fill a loch for her broken heart. The sickening truth of it was that Elizabeth hadn’t wanted to leave Terrence.

She’d had to leave him. There was no other choice. Yet, despite who the Earl of Shaftesbury was in truth to her—she loved him in her own way.

“Elizabeth...” His tone thickened, sounding more threatening.

“I canna, my lord,” she said, using his proper form of address rather than his name, to put some distance between them, even if only in words. To remind her scrambling mind that he was an earl, and she was but a commoner, and there was nothing for it but to draw a line.

Terrence growled and whirled around. He stalked towards the window, his stylish boots making a thunking noise against the polished wood floorboards with each step he took. She watched him retreat—watched the play of muscles on his backside as a burning shame came to flame in her cheeks. Was there really any harm in admiring a man with a most auspicious physique?

Zounds! There was harm in it. Hadn’t she proven that already?

There it was. The moment she’d been looking for since his valet had pounced on her outside the gate—a chance for escape. Taking advantage of his turned back, Elizabeth, too, whirled around and headed for the door.

3

Elizabeth’s fingers wrapped around the handle when Terrence’s larger, more callused ones closed over hers. Hands that worked side by side with those in his employ rather than taking the high and mighty overlord position.

Biting the inside of her cheek, she tried not to tremble. Not to sink back against him. Not to fall to the floor in a puddle of emotional confusion.

Her husband, Linden, had admired Terrence for that very real and honest part of him—the hardworking and respectable part. But in the end, Linden had been wrong about Terrence. She had to remember that, to harden her heart and guard her soul. When they were at their lowest, betraying someone was a most horrid offense, one that canceled out all previous good deeds. And that was what had happened between Linden and Terrence. A devastating betrayal.

Despite Terrence never having exhibited to her anything other than his innately good side, she had to call to the forefront of her mind what had got her here. Disloyalty.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he murmured against her ear. “Not yet anyway.”

His breath cascaded over her neck, making her shiver with need, but also fear. He couldn’t keep her here, could he? There was a real chance he would summon the magistrate. Discover the fraud that she was.

So, why did part of her want to stay? Elizabeth bit her cheek harder, forcing herself to remember the child that needed her. Sarah…

“Ye have to let me go.” Elizabeth’s voice croaked with taut emotion, and she searched for the words she needed to say but came up empty. There didn’t seem to be a right way. “I canna stay here. I canna stay with ye.”

“Elizabeth, you betrayed me.” Beneath his words lay a sharp-edged sword.

What did he know of betrayal? The man didn’t know anything about betrayal or lost, pain or misery. As she straightened her back, words finally fell over her tongue.

“I am not the one with blood on my hands.” Elizabeth wrenched away from Terrence’s nearness, ducking beneath his arm, and meeting his steely gaze. There was pain etched in the corners. And something else. Something…frantic.

What would Terrence do when cornered, when he felt he’d been wronged? She already knew what he would do to someone in need, who didn’t offer him any offense. He let them die for his gain, bleeding out in the middle of the street.

He leaned back against the door, his broad shoulders nearly reaching both frames. Shoulders she’d remembered clinging to in the heat of passion. Elizabeth tore her gaze away from him. Away from the memories of her time with him, which had been lovely, and how she felt guilty all the more for remembering the experiences that way.

With him blocking the door, escape was temporarily futile. She sank back farther into his office, needing to put space between them. At the same time needing the connection that she feared breaking apart. But this was all a farce wasn’t it? Terrence wasn’t the man she’d thought he was. He was supposed to be cruel. He was supposed to be ruthless. All things she’d never witnessed on her own.

But they had to be true. Had to be.

Elizabeth glanced around, her eyes catching on the lovely pair of blue-and-white imperial Chinese porcelain vases she knew Terrence prized. Cracking one of those over his head might give her a few minutes to run away. But she wasn’t the violent sort, and Terrence’s valet was most likely lurking beyond the library door. Besides, breaking a priceless vase had to be some sort of sin.

Seeming to have gained his composure after the shock of her insinuation, Terrence crossed his muscled arms over his chest and glowered at her. “What the bloody hell does that mean? Blood on my hands? What is it you think I’ve done?”

Elizabeth sniffed, turning her nose up at him, seeking resolve in her slowly weakening spine. He’d never see it her way. Terrence might be a charming man, a good kisser and one hell of a lover, but he was a businessman, and weren't all businessmen unscrupulous when it came to money? Uncaring about who they harmed?

“’Tis expected, though disappointing, that a man like ye would see it that way.”