ETTA IN TOW, Margery ran into Bennett’s study and smiled when he bolted up from his desk. “What are you doing here?” he gasped.
They met halfway, his mouth dear on hers, the kiss wild despite her old nurse’s presence. Her fingers twined into his long dark hair, and his arms went around her to clutch her close. When he finally broke the kiss, she was breathless. “I told you I’d come to you again, didn’t I?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“I’ve been combing the countryside for witnesses. Rand had promised to do that, but then he took off for Oxford and has yet to return.” She ran her hands up and down Bennett’s back, frantic to touch him, to feel the strong muscles beneath his thin shirt, to convince herself he was here, he was real, he wouldn’t die, that somehow they’d end up together. “I cannot just sit in my uncle’s house and pray anymore. I have to do something. I have to find someone who saw Alban come after you.”
His hands clenched on her waist. “I feel so helpless, stuck here in this house. All I can do is write letters.” His gaze flicked to the papers littering his desk. “Letters and more letters,” he said, looking back to her, his green eyes laced with despair. “But I know no one with influence greater than the marquess’s. No one who can save me.”
“Did you get my letter? The one where I explained Uncle William’s promise to spare your life if I marry Rand?”
The look in his eyes—misery—told her he had. “Do you suppose you could come to love him?” he asked, his voice so harsh she pictured each word being forced through his throat.
“Not like this. He’s my brother—”
“Then you cannot do it. I won’t allow you to sacrifice your life for mine. You’ll be unhappy all your days.”
“Not as unhappy as if you were dead.” She wasn’t going to let him argue this point. “I’m going back out—I just stopped here to tell you what I’m doing. God willing, I’ll find someone able to vouch for your innocence in this matter. Either way, I’ll be back tonight.”
“Tonight?” She saw his heart leap into his eyes.
Her own heart pounded at the thought of a night in each other’s arms. One precious night. She’d never thought to feel like this, hadn’t considered herself a woman driven by lust. Until Bennett.
“Yes, tonight.” She nodded toward Etta. “Uncle William thinks we’re staying overnight in Windsor. Ordering a wedding gown—as though I would care what I wore to wed Rand. Sackcloth would do.” She snorted. “For all his power, sometimes my uncle can be blind to a woman’s wiles.”
“He’s a man,” Etta put in with a nod of her curly gray head. “His wife could outwit him just as easily. A crafty woman she was, although she loved him too much to play him the fool very often.”
Margery had seen a loving side of Uncle William in the past, but right now she found it hard to summon loyalty. “Am I wrong, Bennett, for going behind his back?”
She’d warred with herself for days. Perhaps Rand’s mother had been the crafty sort, but Margery had always prided herself on her honesty.
Until now.
Now she was hiding a pregnancy and sneaking off to meet her lover, and she couldn’t find it in herself to feel guilt for either dishonest action. But she was also contemplating ruining two other lives to save Bennett’s, dooming both Rand and Lily to loveless futures…and that sparked enough guilt to make a nun dread the Day of Judgment.
One of her hands left Bennett’s body and went to her own belly as she prayed her child wouldn’t suffer for the sins of its mother.
Bennett’s gaze dropped to her middle, then flicked toward Etta.
“She knows,” Margery said. “She guessed.”
Etta’s big green eyes took on that wise-old-nurse look. “There are signs. Another woman would know.”
Bennett nodded. “No, you’re not wrong,” he murmured in answer to Margery’s earlier question. “The marquess is being unreasonable. He claims to love you, yet he plots to deprive your child of its father.”
One of his hands slipped from her waist to cover her fingers. She wished he could feel their child move, but even she hadn’t felt that yet. It was too early. Were it not for the signs Etta had mentioned, she’d have a hard time believing she even carried a babe.
And yet she knew in her bones that Bennett’s child grew under her heart. And she could only be joyful for it.
“Uncle William doesn’t know I’m with child,” she said softly. “Because it wouldn’t make a difference. And should the unthinkable happen, I would want him to believe the child is Rand’s.”
The last word was said with a sob—a sob Bennett smothered with his mouth. Heedless of Etta watching, they both poured themselves into the kiss.
It wouldn’t be their last, Margery consoled herself when they finally parted. They still had tonight.
But what of the days and nights after that?