Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

England

“For me? Are you sure? Both of them?” Leona glowed with energy as she spoke to the man who stood before her.

“Aye. For you. Do you like them?” the man with the gray eyes asked. Conar was Ciara’s cousin.

“They’re beautiful. Thank you. Thank you so much. This is the first time anyone has ever given me a dog, much less two.”

“Well, with Jackson traveling so much, we thought it best for you to have some protection.”

The dogs were thin, not in a sickly way but in a way normal for their build. They sported coarse wiry coats that were dark blue-gray in color.

“What are they?”

“Deerhounds. I initially opted for Irish Wolfhounds like Ciara has, but when I saw these two, I immediately thought of you. What will you call them?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Let me think.” Leona ran her hands over the young pups, who both quivered under her touch. The bond between them was instantaneous. The pups vied for her attentions and stayed stuck to her when she sat in a chair. The adolescent dogs always had her in their sight..

“I believe that I will call them Neptune and Jupiter. Oh, thank you, Conar. Thank you so much.” Leona rose and placed a kiss on the cheek of the man who had become a part of her small inner circle.

“You are worth it, lass. And as a member of the family we can do nothing less than offer our protection.”

It was true. For the past few months Leona and Jackson both had become close to the Marquess of Heartstone and his family. Leona and Ciara were the best of friends and shared many confidences with each other.

“Thank you, Conar. I feel like you are a part of mine as well.” She had her family. The only thing missing was the love of her life, and he was gone.

Leona attended operas and dances with the family. She was always escorted by Lucien, Rafe, Conar or sometimes Phillip, who was a friend to both Rafe and Lucien.

The days passed and she did charcoal drawings of the family, both together and separate. With that done, she went back to her cottage and spent her days beginning her portrait. Neptune and Jupiter, never far from her side, grew into large dogs capable of defending their mistress should the need ever arise.

Night was the hardest time. For, when she wasn’t busy, her mind was free to wander, and most often it chose the path to Trace.

* * * *

“Hang on, kitten. I am almost there.” His deep voice was filled with fear that was easy for her to pick up on.

“I’m fine. I don’t need your help. I told you already, I’ve done this. Since I’m not as tall as you this is the only way for me to get across.”

She and her secret friend were crossing a gorge on the island—a crossing that spelled instant death with one slip. The young man crossed carefully even while he watched her weave her way in and out of the many branches. Each time she let go with one hand his breath caught in his throat, he was so worried that she would fall. She could feel his concern for her and how it increased.

Once across, he grabbed her and held on to her. “We will not be doing that again,” came the scold. Then he looked down into her eyes and she knew what he saw. Hers were alive with life. That alone melted him. Melted away his fear and anger.

Again, she could feel it inside her. They’d not needed words but had been able to feel what the other did. She couldn’t remember a time when she wasn’t able to do that.

Leona knew when he saw her at the plantation there was no life in her eyes. She kept them downcast but when he managed to catch them with his own eyes, they were almost lifeless. She knew it broke his heart to see her like that, but the result of him showing her compassion would be even worse if his father or brothers found out.

“What are you so scared of?” she questioned.

“Losing you.”

Leona was a lot wiser than she let on. “I am just a slave, Trace. You will be going away to the army soon and will forget all about me.”

He jerked her up against his hard body. “No. Don’t say that. I will not ever, ever forget you. I am joining the army because it is getting too hard for me to see you and not touch you, hold you. Not let everyone see how strongly I feel about you.”

He set her down on a large rock and sat by her feet. She watched him absently spinning his ring that his dad had given him, staring at the endless motion. Removing the ring from his finger, he turned and placed it in the palm of her hand.

“I want you to have this.”

“I can’t. If I am caught with this I will be killed, then who will take care of my mother? I can’t take this.”

“You will take this.” An order. “Put it inside your dress and keep it somewhere safe. I love you, little one. One day I will be able to tell the whole world.”

Leona disagreed with his beliefs, but since she had her own childhood fantasy, she agreed to take the ring. They spent the day exploring caves and playing in the surf. Complete freedom and joy filled their day.

On the way back to the plantation, she did as he’d asked and hid it in her dress. They separated a way off from the plantation with a soul-binding kiss.

“I love you, kitten.” Trace’s husky words flowed over her.

“And I you, Trey.” Her own voice was deeper than usual. She slipped away into the woods and headed home. As she entered the shack, she called a home her mother met her with a glare.

“I know what you were doing and where.” Disapproval rang strong.

“We were only exploring caves.”

“Be careful. You know what would happen if this were to be discovered.”

“Yes, Mama, I know.”

“All right, I can see that you two have something unique and special so that is all I am saying to you about this.”

“I will not forget your warning, Mama.”

Leona bolted up. She heard the surf pounding on the rocks below and she shivered as she ran her fingers through the wiry pelts of her dogs.

“A lot of good that was. I may not have forgotten her warning, but I still got caught.” She spoke aloud to her companions, whose only responses were to lick her hands. Unable—or not wanting—to return to sleep, Leona rose and dressed before heading downstairs to the library.

Jackson was sitting by the fire drinking a brandy. His hair was streaked with gray, and tonight it stood out to her a bit more. When had he gotten that much? He was still a very handsome man.

“Jackson, when did you get back?”

“Just a little bit ago.” He rose and gave her a warm hug then bent to pet the dogs. They stood for the pats then walked over to the chair that Leona had sat in and placed themselves at each side. “They never let down their guard, do they?”

“How did the trip go?” She didn’t even begin to answer his question about the dogs, since she knew he didn’t require one.

“Very well. You got some requests for familial portraits. I also did some additional investing and got a few more clients. I was wondering, though, if you wanted to have more room?”

Move? From this magical place?“No, I don’t wish to leave here. Did you want to move?”

“Not move necessarily. We could add on to the house.”

“That sounds better. Let’s do that. This place helps me paint. I love it here.”

“I have noticed that some of your works seem to be with a little something new in them. I couldn’t name it before, but now I think that it’s happiness.”

Jackson rose and walked over to her. He pulled her out of the chair and escorted her to the door. “I don’t know what you are doing out of bed, but you should be sleeping. We will have visitors tomorrow. St. Martin will be coming by with his family for another visit.”

“Good night. Jackson. I’m glad you’re home.”

“Me too, lass. Me too. Good night.” A chaste kiss on the head and he pushed her out of the door.

Leona and her dogs headed up the stairs to her bedroom. The sound of rain falling made her eyes heavy and she sank into a deep sleep, thankfully a sleep devoid of dreams that had Trace in them.

* * * *

After a three-month voyage, they were finally on their way to London. As their rented carriage bounced over the ground, Trace found himself trembling with excitement. Soon. Soon, he told himself, she will be mine.

“Papa, how are we going to find her?” His son was all into the adventure of finding this lost woman.

“I guess we’ll have to ask someone when we get to London. I’m not really sure. Perhaps we will rent a small house and look for her after. Or we could stay in a hotel. I don’t know how long it will take to find her.”

His son turned from the small window and looked up at him. “If we get a house, can I have a dog?” He flashed a grin. “I think Leona would like a dog.”

There was no stopping the laughter. “We’ll see, son. We’ll see.” The motion of the carriage soon rocked his son to sleep and left him in silence to dwell on his own thoughts. Trace thought back to his time with Elle.

Almost immediately, he too was lost to the world of Morpheus, as he dreamed of a voluptuously curvaceous, perfectly tan, black-haired, tawny-eyed woman who had stolen his heart, his love, his very soul.

* * * *

“Good morning, Leona.”

“Good morning, Ciara, Lucien, kids.” With a smile, she welcomed them into her parlor. She had a hug for Ciara, kisses for the children and another hug for Lucien.

“I see your dogs are doing well,” Ciara remarked as she stopped to pet them on their heads before sitting down on a rich chocolate-colored chaise.

“They’re wonderful. Thanks so much for finding them for me.”

“Conar was right. With Jackson gone so much, you need to have more protection around you.” Lucien looked at her as he spoke. “Are you sure you won’t come stay with us at Heartstone? There is more than enough room.”

With a genuine smile, Leona shook her head. “No, I love it here. This place holds some kind of magic for me. And I like having a place of my own. But thank you for the offer.”

“Well,” came the deep reply, “we will just have to keep coming out to check on you.”

“And if Lucien doesn’t want to come with me, I will come by myself.”

“I would never not want to go with you, princess.” There was a subtle meaning in those words that even the kids picked up on.

“Papa, please. Don’t get all kissy with Mama.” That was from Bryn, the eldest child. He was thirteen and positive that girls were icky. Except for his sister, whom he loved with all his heart.

“Just wait, son, someday you will change your opinion of being kissy with a girl.”

“Humph. Can I go outside with Neptune and Jupiter?” It was obvious he had no desire to be with his parents.

“Ask Leona, as they are her dogs,” came his mother’s advice.

“You can take them outside. They have been inside with me for most of the day and would probably appreciate being able to run around for a while.” With a hand gesture, she released her dogs and they swarmed around Bryn.

“Don’t forget to take your sister with you,” Lucien broke in.

“I won’t, Papa. Come on, Keely, let’s go.” Grabbing his sister’s hand, Bryn headed outside to play as the adults sat down to talk. Jackson came into the room moments later.

“Lord and Lady Heartstone, glad to see you both again.”

“Call me Lucien or St. Martin. I consider you both family.”

“Very well, Lucien. Might I have a word with you in private?”

“Of course. Ladies, if you will excuse us.” The two men left the room.

“How is the painting coming?”

“Well. Very well, in fact. I should be finished within the month.”

“I can hardly wait to see it,” Ciara said. “Can I ask you something? A personal question.”

“Of course, you can ask me anything,” Leona responded.

“Were you a slave?”

Panic surfaced in a flash. Would Ciara withdraw her offer of friendship if she knew? Finally, Leona just took the chance and answered. “Yes. Until I was about fourteen.”

“Did you escape, or were you set free?”

“We escaped. My mother took me and we left the plantation. Hawk’s Cove was its name, and the island.”

“Is that why you don’t want to live with us? Because owning a piece of property means so much?”

“Part of it.” Leona looked at the woman across from her and saw no judgment in her eyes, only compassion.

“Leona, my mom was a slave, so I won’t judge you. I only asked because I see you favoring your back every now and then and wondered if you had been whipped. Since you’re a healer I was just wondering if it was something that you couldn’t have healed properly because you were too young.”

Shame, hurt and betrayal flooded Leona’s body, flushed her cheeks. Her response was low but steady when it came, no longer tinged with hurt, just a recounting of the event. “When I was fourteen, I received fifteen lashes on my back.”

Ciara gasped with outrage. “What was the reason for it?”

Since the scab over her wound had finally been opened up, Leona just needed to get it all off her chest. “I had been found sleeping with the master’s son. We were yanked apart and that was the last time I saw him before my mother and I escaped. For the longest time I blamed him. I thought that he had been the reason for my whipping. I believed he had betrayed what I had considered to be our love and friendship. We had grown up together, played together and fought together. One day when I was thirteen, right before I left to go home, he grabbed my arm and kissed me. Our whole relationship changed. That kiss opened up something in me, in both of us. Our feelings became like one. It was like—” She broke off, not knowing how to put it.

Ciara filled in the blanks. “Like your souls had combined to become joined as one for all time.”

“Yes. Exactly. How did you know?”

“I have that same feeling. With Lucien. For some reason I can sense his moods and feel his emotions. Makes it kind of scary, doesn’t it, to know that someone is that close to you?”

“Absolutely. With Tr…him, it was different. Since he was also teaching me how to read and write. Whenever I got paper and charcoal it was because of him. I owed him so much, but that slate was wiped clean when I was strung up naked in front of the whole plantation and took fifteen lashes across my back.”

Her words fell cold and exacting as she were forced between her tightly compressed lips. She shook as she relived the painful memory.

“I grew up fast that day. My childhood fantasies were shattered. After we escaped, and even after I met Jackson, I still had no outlet for my feelings of betrayal. Jackson, with information from my mother, got me the supplies to paint and draw. Art became the way for me to get past my anger and resentment at the pain he had caused me, allowing me to remember the wonderful times that we had. How it felt to be held in his arms. You know, he could make me feel like I was the most beautiful woman in the world. He was three years older than me and I loved him more than anything. I trusted him. Now I just don’t know.”

Ciara listened raptly to the words that came from Leona. When she was silent, Ciara asked her question. “Do you still love him?”

Tears trembled on her eyelashes before falling gently down her cheeks. “Yes. Oh God help me, yes. I still love him.” Leona completely broke down into sobs and Ciara moved to sit next to her and hold her in her arms, providing the comfort that she was so good at giving.

On the other side of the door, both Lucien and Jackson listened to her tale. The men shook with anger at the thought of her being whipped. Lucien remembered how angry he had been when his own son had been struck by one of the duke’s men. To hear that this woman, whom Lucien considered to be like a sister, had gone through something much worse made him want to beat someone.

Lucien shared a glance with Jackson, then they walked off a way before he asked, “Did you know about all of that?”

“Not all. I have seen the whip marks on her back, but didn’t know the whole story. Every now and then I had to put some cream on her back to loosen up the skin. Her mom told me that it wasn’t something that should be brought up. It’s a good thing that I didn’t know, or I would have beaten him up when I found him in her home.”

“He was in her home? On the island?” Lucien was astonished. At the same time, he wished he had been there to help beat the man who had been the cause of her pain.

“Yes, he is a colonel in the army and they were there to battle and try to get more slaves. She found him injured in the field and nursed him back to health. I don’t believe that he knew who she was, for he had lost his sight, though only temporarily. When I saw him there he could see shadows. That was when we sailed for England. I am trying to protect her, but now I’m not sure I’m doing the right thing.”

Lucien ran a hand over his face as a myriad of thoughts ran through his mind. “He was for slavery? Do you think he will come looking for her?”

Jackson appeared resigned. “Yes. Yes, I do. I saw his expressions as he gazed upon her shadow. He always knew where she was and he was more than jealous of me. I don’t want to lose her. She’s all I have left of her mother.”

Lucien nodded in understanding. “I wish I knew what to tell you. I know you want her to be happy, so let’s just take it one day at a time. She’s family and I’ll protect her with everything I have.”

The library door opened before Jackson could respond. The two women walked out. Lucien’s heart caught in his throat. They were so similar they could be sisters. He stared at his wife and realized that he too had almost lost a loved one once because of other people’s prejudices.

The four friends walked outside to find the children. The rest of the day was spent playing games and eating. Lucien and his family stayed for two more days before heading back to their estate. Jackson left as well, to go to London.

* * * *

Left alone again, Leona spent her days painting. She was almost done. She was actually doing four pictures for the St. Clair’s. One of the whole family, one of the family with the animals, one of just the kids and one of Lucien and Ciara.

The one of the family was with Lucien standing behind his wife as she sat on a chair. Bryn was standing beside her and Keely was sitting on her lap. Lucien’s hand was settled lovingly on her shoulder. The men were dressed handsomely in suits while the women were eye-catching in their dresses.

The one with just the children was with Keely sitting on the chair and her older brother standing protectively behind her. His hand was on the back of the chair.

The portrait with the animals had the family sitting on a chaise, children on the laps of their parents. At each end of the chaise was a wolfhound. In front of the chair by their feet was a gray wolf. In the background was a black bird and curled up under the bird was a smaller catlike creature.

Ciara had told her about a picture she had of her parents, so Leona was painting one in the same pose for her, only this time with Ciara and her husband.

That picture of Lucien and Ciara was the one that Leona was the most proud of. Leona had spent many a day watching Lucien watch his wife to capture just the right look of love for her in his eyes. Ciara’s hand rested contentedly on his chest as he looked down into her eyes. The main difference was that in this one the couple was painted on top of another picture. Leona had painted a double picture.

The couple had been painted upon the light backdrop of a lavender rose. After Ciara had told her the story of Lucien and his rose, it had been the only thing she could do. The rose blended in perfectly with the black that Lucien wore and the buckskins that Ciara wore. It was a darker lavender around the edges and paler in the center, where the couple was painted. Leona had made it as a surprise for the people who made her a part of their family and had done so with open arms.

Having painted for most of the day, Leona got up and decided to walk along the beach with Neptune and Jupiter. The dogs ran wildly in and out of the surf, making her laugh at their antics. When they had had sufficient exercise, she headed back to the cottage, where she had a nice quiet dinner before settling into her favorite overstuffed chair by the fire to read a book.

* * * *

London

“This place sure is dirty, Papa.”

It sure was. Trace didn’t remember London being this bad. Apparently all that time at Hawk’s Cove had made him detest the noise and congestion of a large city. “Sure is, Falcon. Stay close to me.”

“Okay.” He enjoyed the familiar feel of his son’s hand slipping into his larger one as they prepared to get out of the carriage.

The carriage lumbered up to the hotel and the footmen got down their luggage. Once inside the hotel, Trace breathed a little easier. This place was clean. Spotless really. Well lit from the massive chandeliers hanging from the tall, vaulted ceiling. He walked up to the man behind the counter.

“I need a room, please.”

“Very well, sir.”

As the man was spouting to some other footmen who were waiting to carry the luggage upstairs, Trace wondered how he was going to find Leona in this place.

“Have you heard of Leona O’Neill?” Trace still choked on saying her last name as O’Neill. It just wasn’t right. She was supposed to marry him. The man was old enough to be her father, for hell’s sake.

The concierge got a condescending and knowing smirk on his face. “Everyone has heard of her. She’s made a name for herself painting the peerage. Interesting as she is dark-skinned and all.”

“Where can I find her?”

With a shake of his head, he retorted, “Do you really think that you can buy her services? She’s requested by many. And if you’re thinking that you can marry her to get some of her money, think again. She is under the care of the Marquess of Heartstone.” The man leaned in as if he were parting with huge news. “If that weren’t enough to scare off most men, then the marchioness would be, what with all her wild animals and all.”

He leaned back, overly smug in his knowledge. “If you want my advice, forget about her and find a woman you have a chance with.”

Trace boiled with jealousy and anger. Why was she with a marquess? “Not that it is any of your business, but Leona and I have known each other since we were children. I was in town, heard she was here and wanted to surprise her with a visit. It is obvious that you don’t know where she is, so why didn’t you just say so? And for the sake of your health and further longevity, do not, I repeat, do not ever take that tone again when you speak about Leona.” His words fell like stone on the man behind the counter, shattering through his arrogant persona just as easily as a brick shattering a window.

The man mumbled his apology. As Trace and his son were headed up the wide staircase he called out, “You might leave a note at the townhouse of the marquess. He may be able to put you two in touch.”

With nothing more than a wave of acknowledgment, Trace continued up the steps to his room. When the men had left, he looked down into the mistrustful eyes of his son.

“What’s the matter, son?”

“You lied to that man, Papa. What’s really going on? What is Leona to you?” Eyes that were too wise and old for their bearer bore into him.

“I’m not sure that she will want to see me. I hurt her and betrayed her trust a long time ago.” Heartache and pain laced his words and he didn’t doubt his son could hear it just as easily as he could.

His son jumped to his defense immediately. “Does she know that you were tied up the night they whipped her?”

“No. I never saw her after that night. It still doesn’t matter. I was the strong one. I was supposed to protect her. I didn’t know it had been her who rescued me until after I was almost on the ship to come home, so now I owe her for that as well.”

“Uh-huh. What is she to you?”

“What do you mean?” Trace wasn’t sure he could reveal his feelings to his son. Wasn’t sure that he wanted to.

“Don’t treat me like a baby, Papa. You know what I mean. Do you love her? You get this strange look when you talk about her, and you look so angry and scary when you hear that name, ‘Jackson’. Why do you want to find her so bad?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to treat you like a baby. I’m just not used to sharing my feelings.” Except with Leona. Always with Leona. “Yes. I love her.” His words were dragged from his lips. “I love her more than I would ever have believed possible. If she will have me, I will marry her. What do you think about that?” There was a challenge to his son in those words.

Pensiveness and uncertainty flitted across his son’s face. “Well, I guess it’s a start that you say you love her. I think that you should do what makes you happy, Papa. If you want to marry her then do so. Unless she’s married to that Jackson guy.”

A low rumble of jealousy erupted inside Trace at that statement. Something so dark and foreboding rose within him. The thought of another man touching her was like poison to him. His lips thinned with fury and his nostrils flared with his anger. Only the look of fear and wonder on his son’s face calmed him down.

“Sorry, Papa, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

He blinked rapidly as he fought to regain control of his raging emotions.. “That’s all right. I’m not mad at you.” He knew there lingered some of the anger in his words.

“Why do you get so angry, Papa? Are you sure she loves you? I mean, if she did, why would she be married to Ja… That other man?”

Rage surfaced again. He was being swirled into a world over which he had no control. He hissed, “She loves me.”

“Okay. Okay, Papa. Calm down, you’re scaring me.”

Tense moments passed as Trace unclenched fists and calmed his heaving chest. He barely held onto an extremely thin thread of control as he spoke softly. His words were more for his own ears than those of his son. “She loves me. She has to. I can’t live the rest of my life without her in it. Not anymore. I just can’t.”

Wisely, his son held his tongue, not commenting on his father’s words, which had been spoken from the heart and had not been meant for him to hear.

Together the Morgan men went in search of some dinner. While they ate in the dining room, Trace mentally made plans on how to find Leona. After they had finished eating, he went to the desk and had a note sent to the townhouse of the marquess requesting an audience. He didn’t give a reason about what, just signed it ‘Colonel Morgan’.

* * * *

Leona stumbled with the force of the rage that surged through her body. Her heart rate accelerated and she had to lean on a chair for fear of collapse. So much rage, so much hate and anger it scared her. And yet. And yet underneath it all was a layer of anguish.

So raw.

So deep.

So real.

As she regained control of her body, she sat on the edge of the chair. What had just happened? It must have had to do with Trace, but how? Of course, never had she felt such emotion before. Not unless he was near had she been able to feel him with such strength.

Could he be? Could he be in England? Come to take her back to the plantation?

“I won’t go. I’ll run away. I’ll disappear. I will never be a slave again!” she shouted to the empty room, or so she thought.

“I would never let that happen.” A steely voice broke through her rants and raves. Surprised, she emitted a very loud shriek as she spun around to gaze upon the large and formidable man named Lucien.

As she placed a shaking hand to her chest, she sputtered. “Lucien. You scared me. How long have you been here?”

“Long enough to hear your comment and witness you almost falling over. You need to take care. If anything happens to you Jackson and my wife will have my head on a platter.”

“I’m fine, but what are you doing here?”

“I came to take you to Heartstone, and before you try to argue, do not.” Once again Leona was exposed to the single-minded authority and command that this man possessed.

Still, she had to try. “I can take care of myself. I am fine, really.”

“No. You are coming with me.” His tone booked no room for argument.

“Very well. I’ll go pack. Might I ask how long I will be at your home?”

“For the whole holiday. Don’t worry, we’ll swing by your studio and get your paintings. You need to be with family, and that is us. So go get your coat. Your bags have already been packed, as I spoke to the housekeeper before I came to find you. To your next unavoidable question, yes, your dogs can come and are waiting outside by the carriage. No more reason to stall, let’s go.”

Leona stared at the man who was like a brother to her and nodded her assent. She gathered her coat and walked down the hall next to him, still after all this time awed by his poise and confidence.

At the door, Lucien placed his hand at her back to guide her down the steps. As she said goodbye to the house staff, who would stay on, she wondered what it would be like to have Trace with her going to see Lucien and Ciara for the holiday season.

Once inside the carriage they headed for her studio. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Lucien turned his piercing eyes on her.

“Coming to get me. Allowing me to be a part of your family.”

“You are. You are part of my family. Don’t ever think otherwise.”

When the carriage halted by the studio, Leona stopped Lucien with a hand. “Please, let me get them alone. I don’t let people in my studio.”

Lucien ran his gaze over her face before he consented with a silent nod. “I will be right outside if you need anything.”

Leona got what she needed ready in no time at all. The picture of Lucien and Ciara was specially wrapped and she made sure that it wouldn’t get damaged. The footmen loaded her paintings onto the carriage then helped her back in.

“We will stop off at an inn on the way to eat and change horses. Since we don’t have a chaperone, we will be traveling through the night. Sorry about that.”

“That’s fine.”

A sharp rap on the ceiling and Lucien settled back as the carriage lumbered off. For a way they rode in silence except for the panting of her dogs. Finally Lucien spoke.

“Tell me about Hawk’s Cove.”

If Leona hadn’t been sitting, she would have fallen over. How did he know? She felt herself shrinking into a small ball.

Lucien sat forward and grabbed her hands, forcing her to look at him. “I am not passing judgment on you. I know what happened to you. Not because of Ciara, because we were at the door when you told her.”

She licked her lips. “It was a big plantation. The main house had four floors, lots of marble and other fancy things. They raised a few things. The largest I remember is tobacco. I don’t know much about the house, as the only time I was there was when the master had a party. I was used to serve food and drinks, to make the other men focus on me and their desire to get me in bed so they would not pay attention to the fact that they were losing so much money.”

She tried to avoid his intense gaze, so Leona turned her head, which prompted Lucien to tighten his hands on hers until she faced him again. “Keep going,” was his only response.

So she did. She told him things that she hadn’t told Ciara.

They fell silent as they approached the inn. Lucien got a private room. With a hood covering her face, Leona could pass as his own wife, the marchioness, so no one questioned why he was with a woman.

Dinner was eaten quickly and silently. When it was done, Leona put her hood up and walked without speaking next to Lucien out of the inn and back into the carriage.

Soon she was drowsy, so she leaned back and began to sleep. Her dreams started off gentle enough but then they became violent.

Once again she was stripped naked, hung by her arms until her toes barely touched the ground and whipped. Each time the lash fell her body jerked in response. She cried for her past and all she’d lost.

Finally she woke herself up, to a pair of strong arms that held her tightly, as if she meant something to him. For one of the few times in her life, she felt safe. Whoever held her was a person who she trusted. For a moment she thought it was Jackson.

Leona’s entire body blushed as she realized who held her. She scrambled out of Lucien’s arms and flew to the other seat. “I am so sorry. I don’t know how that happened,” she mumbled, unable to look him in the face, not that it mattered in the darkened carriage.

“I moved to you. Don’t worry. You had a nightmare and all I did was offer you a shoulder to cry on. I am not going to hurt you, Leona. I was trying to help.”

Instantly contrite, Leona glanced across the dark to the man who absorbed most of the room in the carriage. She spoke honestly and from the heart. “I know I am safe with you.” That said, she leaned back and shut her eyes, not saying another word but feeling very safe and protected. The carriage was warm despite the cold weather, and it enticed her to fall back asleep.

* * * *

Trace woke silently in the hotel room. His heart pounded and his back stung. He could feel Leona’s fear and her shame. Then all of a sudden he felt it fade away and a sense of love and security came through the link. She felt safe, with a man—he could always tell when it was a man with her—who wasn’t him.

Jealousy stirred and was fed by his imagination. Leona lying underneath another man. A pair of hands caressing her silken skin, making her moan and squirm. Someone else kissing her full lips and taking the time to explore her luscious body.

Rage was full force as he bolted upright in bed. His chest heaved as he got out of bed and dressed. It was still late, and his son was sleeping soundly in the other bed. So Trace left the room in silence.

As he headed down the stairs, he ignored the looks of the few people he passed. Stepping outside into the night, he began to walk. He had to get away.

Away from her memory. Away from his dreams. Away to find a moment’s peace.

Trace strode down the street, not paying attention to where he was going. Therefore, when he came to a club, he just went in.

The noise was what he needed to banish his demons. Settling down at a table, he began to play, not focusing on the men at the table with him.

The night wore on and Trace turned down invitations from some women to go up to their rooms with them. He stayed and played, more than doubling the money he had started with.

As he saw the first beginnings of morning light began to penetrate the smoke-covered city he rose from the table. He took his winnings and, with a nod to each of the men, he left. As he was almost out of the door, he heard her name.

“…Leona. And maybe then I will be able to marry her. Do you know how rich she is? Since she is not a member of peerage maybe I will have a chance.”

“Like you would have a chance to marry her. No more of a chance than I do,” came another voice.

Trace executed a military turn and walked over in the direction he’d heard the voice. Not married? Could it be true?

Ears open, he listened for that voice again and, when it came, he followed it to the owner.

He interrupted the man with an abrupt question. “Excuse me, were you talking about Leona O’Neill?”

The man looked up at Trace. Any snide remark he had been about to make died when their eyes met.

“Yes. The artist. Why? Are you after her hand as well?”

“I thought she was married.”

“No. She is available. Wealthy too.”

“Isn’t her last name the same as her husband’s?”

“Jackson O’Neill isn’t her husband. Where have you been? He is her father.”

Her father. Oh my God. That was why her love for him was so strong and sure. She must have taken his last name for protection. A small spark of hope began to grow inside Trace once again.

“Lots of men are vying for her hand. Most likely, though, she will end up with a broke member of the ton who needs to marry an heiress. But I’m still going to try. What about you?”

Trace had walked off, muttering to himself, “She’s not married,” over and over as if he couldn’t believe it.