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.” Her nails dug into her palms, remembering Linden’s words, the pain etched into his forehead. Then poor Sarah, growing up without the benefit of her father. Anger fueled Elizabeth to step forward, her brows furrowed in a frown.
She wanted to grab Terrence. To shake him. To make him confess what he’d done.
“At last, a spark of life,” Terrence goaded. “Don’t hold in the storm I see inside you. I demand you tell me what you mean by your vile words.”
Elizabeth was about to let him have it, but part of her held back, worried because she had somewhere to be. A job to do. Survive or die. That was what her life boiled down to. And the fleeting time she’d spent here, as a lady, that was just a dream, not the reality of her life.
“Ye dinna deserve that much,” she said under her breath, forcing herself to envision Linden and Sarah, even though her ire was starting to seem superficial and forced. God, it was hard to hate him when he seemed so oblivious to what she was saying. When he still showed such emotion in his countenance.
“Elizabeth…” Terrence met her gaze, his eyes stricken.
She couldn’t look away. Couldn’t force herself to turn around. Her belly twisted, and she wished she could run into his arms to tell him that she was sorry for the pain she’d caused him. But doing that would make her untrue to Linden’s memory, her last promise to him. Which was worse?
Blast it all. It was unfair that being untrue to herself seemed crueler when it should be the other way around.
She’d already fulfilled her promise to Linden when she’d made Terrence love her and then left him. Her revenge had already been achieved. But didn’t she deserve a chance at love again?
Elizabeth sucked on the inside of her cheek and glanced at the ground. What did she want? In a perfect world—
That exact thought snapped her out of whatever fantasy she’d been trying to tuck herself into. There was no such thing as perfect. Especially not in her world.
“Ye have to let me go, Terrence. I dinna belong here.” This time she used his given name, hoping that the familiarity would entice him to let her out the door. She wasn’t sure she’d make it there on her own. “If ye loved me at all…allow me to go.”
And he did. Holding up his hands, he backed slowly away. His eyes never left her, dark in their intensity, and her heart skipped a beat. Pain and confusion etched his features, tearing into her heart. Heaven help her—this was awful.
Surprised, it took her several heartbeats to react to his surrender.
“Thank ye,” she choked out, forcing herself to cease thinking about him permitting her go without question—he loved her that much?
Elizabeth was surprised when he didn’t stop her from opening the door. She was surprised when he didn’t pull her back in as she walked through it. Was disappointed that he didn’t. All it would have taken was one more time, and she would have melted, surrendering. She supposed it was best then that he hadn’t. Her heart hammered against her ribs, and she felt nauseous leaving this place—once her home—leaving the man she knew deep down in her heart she loved, though she should hate him for ruining everything.
Just as she entered the foyer, only a few feet from escape, his voice consumed her, stopping her in her tracks.
“Elizabeth, don’t leave like this. Tell me why. I beg of you.”
He deserved to know. And yet there was something inside holding her back. She turned around slowly, her skirts twirling lightly at her ankles. When she raised her eyes to meet his, it was a feat of willpower not to sink to the floor and give in to her buried need to stay—to his plea for the same. Giving in would have been far easier than this.
After he heard the truth, he would let her go. He wouldn’t want her then. Not like he did when she’d walked into his library after two years. Desire had burned in his gaze, and she felt it reciprocated in her own veins.
This was the best way to get him to let her go, even if it hurt like hell.
Maybe the reason she’d fought it was that she hoped he would come after her, that somehow, she could make him part of her life.
But there was Sarah. Elizabeth would never abandon her, and she doubted Terrence would accept another man’s child into his house. A lowly man, as he must believe Linden to have been.
She would tell him the truth, and then she would leave.
“I married young,” Elizabeth started. She glanced to one side, then the other. There were no servants in sight, though she was sure they were listening from somewhere.
Hurt flickered over Terrence’s features at her concealment from him. They, too, had been married in love, and she’d never told him about her other family. Whatever his sentiments, he bottled them up quickly, his face clearing like a slate being wiped clean.
“My husband was an employee of yours.”