Page 53 of Exile's Return

He looked away. ‘I let him go without giving him the chance to explain.’

She folded the paper and handed it back to him. He took it, turning it over in his fingers.

‘Agnes, I owe you an apology for what I said.’

‘Yes, you do,’ she replied. ‘I’m not a whore, Daniel. My reasons for becoming James Ashby’s mistress are…my own.’

‘Is he the father of your child? Henry is your son, not your sister’s, isn’t he?’

She drew a deep breath. He knew. ‘We called it The Great Secret, Daniel. I am sworn to keep it.’

His gaze didn’t move from her face. ‘Secrets are always dangerous, Agnes. Ashby’s dead, what difference can it make now?’

She shook her head. ‘There is too much at stake.’

He could make whatever suppositions he liked. They both had their secrets.

They stood in silence once more, their hands on the windowsill. Daniel covered her left hand with his right, running his calloused thumb in a circle across the back of her hand.

‘You have such a tiny hand, Agnes,’ he said in a low voice. ‘I fear I might crush it.’ He lifted it, pressing her fingers to his lips. ‘If I could only take back those terrible things I said to you.’

Agnes swallowed. The touch of his lips on the tips of her finger was sending her stomach into a roiling mess, stealing the very breath from her lungs. ‘They were spoken in haste and anger,’ she said, finding her voice. ‘I know they were not meant for me.’

His hand strayed to her hair, smoothing the disordered curls away from her face.

‘Don’t go. Stay with me, Agnes,’ he said, in a voice hoarse with emotion.

Her heart skipped a beat but she forced herself to step back and he dropped his hand.

‘Is this another pleasant invitation to lie on your bed and spread my legs?’ she asked.

He flinched and caught her hand again, drawing her toward him, his gaze, even in the thin light of the moon, steady.

‘I’m not asking for anything more than companionship, Agnes. I just don’t want to be alone…not tonight.’

Every nerve in her body tensed, her need for companionship, for human touch, every bit as great as his. She choked back the sob but it escaped unbidden and her body convulsed as he drew her into his arms, kissing her hair.

‘Please don’t cry.’ He raised his hand, smoothing the hair away from her face, wiping away her tears with his thumb. ‘Forget what I said and go back to your bed.’

She shook her head. ‘I don’t want to go back to bed.’ She cupped his face in her hands, forcing his gaze to meet hers. ‘I’m crying because it is the first time in a very long time…’ she struggled to find the words ‘…that I feel wanted for who I am.’

His fingers meshed in her hair as he pressed her to his hard, lean body. ‘Is that all we are to each other, Agnes? Two lonely people finding solace in the dark?’

‘Is that such a terrible thing?’ she ventured.

‘I would like to think that maybe it is more than that,’ he said.

She found her voice. ‘I would truly like to think we were friends, Daniel Lovell, despite what you might have said.’

The moon appeared from behind a cloud, lighting the ghostly smile that caught Daniel’s mouth. ‘I would like to think of you asa friend, Agnes, however short our acquaintance. Probably my only friend.’

He slid his arms around her, drawing her in against him. She closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of him. He was not James Ashby. He was something quite different from James. Younger, leaner, harder. Tempered by suffering, scarred by war and worse.

Her pulse quickened and as their lips met she closed her eyes, succumbing to a hunger she had never known before, her body melting against his until it seemed they were just one being. Still entwined they fell onto the bed, fingers grappling at laces and buckles.

Agnes pushed away from him, searching his face, losing herself in those grey eyes, now hazy with desire.

‘I…I am not a virgin.’ She pushed the hair from her face with a self-deprecating laugh. ‘Stupid of me, you know that.’