Callum kept his eyes closed and pulled Elizabeth closer. He refused to risk letting her go again, afraid if he did, even in their bed, she’d disappear. He couldn’t bear it if she vanished from his life again. Vanished not because she didn’t love him, but because she loved him too much, and wanted to protect him and his damned reputation.

How could he convince her that none of that mattered to him? Hell, he’d be more than happy spending the rest of his life with her in the country, far from the gossiping biddies and prying eyes of society.

Elizabeth stirred then, and Callum wondered about her reaction to their night. He wasn’t a fool and knew she planned for this to be their final time together.

“Good morning,” he whispered.

She turned and offered him a loving smile, the violet of her eyes soft as she looked at him. It lasted only a moment, this intimate moment, before she realized the situation. Callum saw the changes immediately; he knew her so well even after all this time.

“I shouldn’t have stayed,” she said and shifted away.

Callum let her do so and sat up. “You wanted to stay,” he pointed out as evenly as he could. “I wanted you to stay.”

Elizabeth looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes more hazel now than violet. She didn’t answer and climbed out of bed. Quickly slipping her chemise over her head, Elizabeth shook out her gown and turned back to him.

“But I shouldn’t have,” she said and jerked her arms through the gown’s sleeves.

He silently watched her as he, too, got out of bed and dressed. Callum waited her out, this wasn’t easy for her, and he knew that. She’d obviously been through much this last year, the scars on her face attested to physical as well as emotional hardships. He wanted to ask her about them, about everything she’d endured, but now certainly wasn’t the time.

“What are we going to do?” she demanded testily. “Marry? So you can be forever known as the traitor’s husband?”

It wasn’t difficult to miss the sarcasm in her words, but he gave her a moment before answering. His own temper snapped, but Callum measured his words as he stalked the few steps between them.

“You are not your father,” he said shortly. “And he was proved to have no guilt.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she insisted, eyes flashing with anger. “It will never go away. The gossips will always talk about this and will drag your name through the gutters for associating with me.”

Unable to help himself, Callum took her shoulders and hoped she saw beyond this moment. There had to be a way to make her understand, but try as he might the words to do so escaped him. Elizabeth cupped his cheek, eyes softening.

“I don’t want that for you,” she said. Her fingers were light on his cheek, almost insubstantial and Callum knew he was losing her. “Callum, I want you to have a life free of scandal, to have the respect you deserve as the Earl of Aycliff. With me by your side in any manner—”

“Stop.” He snapped the word and she started. “You’re wrong, Elizabeth. I am the earl and I will command respect for myself and my wife. You are not to assume that we’ll be ostracized from society, because we will not. And if we are?”

Callum shrugged and pulled her closer. Her eyes were softening again, but he didn’t know if it was in goodbye or in acceptance of his arguments. “And if we are, then the only thing that will matter is that I have you.”

“You’ll grow to resent me,” Elizabeth whispered. She shook her head, fingers curling over his cheek but she didn’t step out of his embrace.

“Never.” Callum shook her lightly and cupped her chin. “Come home with me now. I won’t have you on the streets where I can’t find you.” His fingers brushed the left side of her face and the jagged scars marring her soft skin. “Where someone can harm you.”

He watched anguish flash in her eyes and wondered what happened to cause her such pain. Elizabeth shook her head, freeing her face from his grip. She looked around the room as if judging it.

“I can stay here,” she said, gesturing to the opulent space. “Where no one has to see me and no one will know.”

These final words snapped the thread holding his control. Callum slowly walked her backwards to the tapestry-covered wall. He needed a moment to carefully select his next words—ordering her wouldn’t work, nor would yelling. In fact, he wasn’t entirely certain reason would work on Elizabeth.

“I will not,” he growled, pressing his hands to the wall on either side of her, “cheapen you in such a matter. I won’t reduce you to a common whore.”

“Don’t you understand, Callum?” she yelled, pushing his chest not to free herself, he saw, but in anger. “They’ll view me as a common whore and will whisper about the time I’ve been missing.”

“I. Don’t. Care.” Callum said, spacing the words evenly. Every bit of love he felt for her echoed in his words. “My life is not run by others. You are my choice and forever will be. I won’t marry if the woman is not you.”

His words shocked her; he could see it evident on her face. She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, shaking her head. Elizabeth didn’t say anything for a moment, and Callum tenderly raised her chin.

“Come home with me,” he whispered against her lips.

She opened her mouth to reply, but no words emerged. Instead she nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek. Callum gathered her into his arms and held her close.

****

The sun shone brightly as they exited the carriage, and Elizabeth cursed the unnaturally bright spring day. Part of her wanted to hide from the world, slip into Callum’s house unnoticed and…and what? Refusing to hide, to cower in the shadows, Elizabeth held her head high as Callum escorted her into his townhouse.

She’d been here so many times in the past, always welcomed by the servants, and yet tonight, as the butler ushered them inside, Elizabeth felt awkward. Stark didn’t so much as do a double take when Callum handed her inside, but bowed deeply and carefully took her cloak.

Nerves danced along her skin, and she swallowed convulsively. She felt ridiculous, being treated as if nothing had happened—as if her reputation hadn’t been shredded, her face scarred. As if she hadn’t left Callum to face the scandal of a broken engagement to a traitor’s daughter.

But the butler silently took her things with another reverent bow and looked to Callum.

“Sir, Mr. John has returned,” he said and disappeared.

Callum nodded and glanced into the front parlor. But his smile was solely for her and when his hand cupped her face, there was no pretense. He kissed her, and the only emotion Elizabeth felt then was need and love.

“I need to meet with them,” he told her. “I shan’t be long. Wait for me upstairs, love.”

Elizabeth, wondering who this Mr. John was and what business Callum had with him, turned for the stairs. Halfway up the flight, she stopped and turned back around. Callum had already disappeared into the front parlor and left the door open. She walked across the foyer and stood just to one side of the opened doorway, not really hiding but not making her presence known, either.

“Have you found him?” Callum demanded.

“We have, indeed,” John replied. He sounded slightly more cultured than Elizabeth had expected. Not that she knew what she expected, but with an introduction like Mr. John, it wasn’t the voice that drifted from the parlor. Listening carefully, she inched closer. “Dervin’s hiding in the back of Topper’s Gaming House. He pays street urchins to fetch his food and drink and has been there for several weeks.”

Callum paced several steps, into her view then out again. “Good,” he muttered, “good.” His voice drifted to her, and Elizabeth moved closer, fingers curling around the doorframe. “I want him arrested.”

This last year served her well in one respect at least—Elizabeth had mastered her emotions. No longer did she instinctually speak out; no longer did she let sentiment lead her. Rather, she slipped a step further into the shadows and listened.

Her heart pounded in her ears and she wanted to insist to Callum that Dervin die. She wanted that man dead for all he’d done to her and her family. Swallowing against the anger, Elizabeth shook her head and listened to the rest of the conversation.

“Get the Bow Street Runners,” Callum instructed, “whatever additional men you need, I care not. But have Dervin arrested tonight.”

John said something more, an agreement Elizabeth didn’t quite catch and left. She pressed herself against the wall as he walked across the foyer, but honestly didn’t care if he saw her or not. Stepping into the light of the foyer, she waited.

“You should have had them kill Dervin,” she told Callum the moment he exited the parlor.

Callum looked up and stopped. He took a step closer to her, glancing from where she stood to the open parlor door. “You heard.”

It wasn’t a question, but she nodded anyway. “He’s dangerous, Callum, and he’s slippery.”

“It’s best if he’s hanged in public for all to see what he did to your father,” Callum said. Suddenly he stood before her, and Elizabeth could feel the determined fury coming off him.

“He’s tried to kill you—or have you killed,” she told him, furious he once again put himself in danger.

Suddenly he changed, no longer the forceful man with enough determination to track down the true perpetrators of the crimes her father had been hanged for. In its place was anger…and fear.

“How do you know?” he demanded. His words held harshness and ruthlessness, and Callum took her by the shoulders again. “How do you know?”

“You don’t know me anymore, Callum,” Elizabeth said softly. “I’ve done things that no woman who’s to be your wife should.”

“Whatever you’ve done,” he said, pulling her close. “Only proves you’re exactly who I want for a wife.”

Elizabeth shook her head, in protest and amusement. She couldn’t help the laugh that escaped, and leaned up to kiss him. Fury over Dervin still beat within her, but Callum always had a way about him. Time had not diminished its effect on her.

“How is it,” she wondered, hand curling around his neck to pull him closer, “that you can still want me after everything?”

“I know you,” he said with a smug grin. “And I always have. And I will forever want you.”

His mouth was hard on hers, possessing. Elizabeth shuddered and leaned into him. She wanted to feel him, wanted to throw off whatever caution she still held and simply feel. Callum deepened the kiss, holding her hips tight as he pulled her up. His hardness pressed against her, and she whimpered, kissing him harder.

She didn’t know how he did it, perhaps it was the sheer force of his love for her, his determination. Whatever it was, Callum had managed to remove all her doubts. Perhaps not remove, but assuage them.

He backed her up several steps, carrying her the short distance to the front parlor. When he abruptly stopped Elizabeth opened her eyes. Callum was shaking his head, and she could see reason clear his eyes of the passion that always sprung between them.

Laughing, for this wasn’t the first time they’d started to make love in a completely inappropriate part of the house, Elizabeth started to tease him. A shadow moved behind Callum, and she blushed, positive Stark or one of the footmen had caught them.

But then her own gaze cleared and she saw not Stark or one of the other servants, but Dervin.

“Dervin!” she shouted, reaching for the knife she carried, a replacement for the one Donald had given her. Elizabeth moved, pulling Callum back with her.