Chapter Twenty-Five

By the time the carriage was drawn around to the front of the house, both Henry and Louisa were ready to go. A few tired footmen strapped their luggage to the roof, and inside the carriage, a lamp burned, sending flickering light across the leather seats.

This would be a journey from hell, he already knew. To have her so close with their last words echoing in the space between them was a torment from which there could be no escape.

And, damn him, he still wanted her. Even now, when there was no hope, he wished he could capture her lips under his and remind himself one last time of how her body felt as he pushed into her.

At his tap on the roof, the groom flicked his whip and the horses started into motion. The carriage rocked, and Henry wished he could put out the light so they would be cast in darkness.

Even so, there would be no chance of sleep.

Minutes ticked by with the silence deepening between them. Their proximity put him at liberty to notice that her eyes looked a little heavier than they had when they'd last met. A little more tired, as though something weighed on her mind as much as it weighed on his.

Unfortunately, that something was more likely to be the blackmail she was fighting to resolve rather than the brief moments of bliss they had shared.

Still more unfortunately, that knowledge did not stop him fantasising, with reckless abandon, what might have happened if she had said yes to his ill-thought-through proposal.

Perhaps an hour into their journey, her head jerked up and she looked him full in the face. "Are you silent because you have run out of things to say?" she demanded. "Or because you have no wish to say them to me?"

He did his best not to squint, or groan, or drag his hand down his face in exhaustion. "I hardly thought you'd want to speak to me."

"Well, you are not my first choice for carriage companion." Her voice was tart. "But I would rather we speak than sit here in this dreadful silence."

"It's late," Henry said, wishing he did not want to kiss her quite so badly. "We could try sleeping."

She arched an eyebrow. "Will you sleep?"

"No."

"Neither will I. So." She laced her fingers and wrapped them over her knees as she drew them underneath her. "How did you persuade Caroline to give you the letters?"

"There was no persuasion necessary. I merely asked."

"You must have got quite the knack for it since we parted."

His temper rose. "For that, you would have to ask her."

"No doubt she had her reasons. Did Knight see you?"

"No."

"Good. Then at least there's that."

Unable to help himself, he leant forward on the seat. "I must ask, Louisa—are you truly going to use the girl against Knight if he refuses to back down?"

"Why?" she asked softly, her eyes luminous despite the dimness of the carriage. "Would you think less of me?"

The word came to his lips as though compelled. "Yes."

For a moment, he thought she would not answer. Then she shook her head, a small, reluctant smile playing across her lips. "The contrary part of me wishes I could tell you that I will stop at nothing, but . . ."

"Honesty."

"But I won't harm her, if that's what you're asking."

He nodded, accepting her answer. It was one thing to threaten Knight with the harm of his sister, one thing for him to believe it; another entirely for her to carry out her threat.

"In fact," Louisa continued thoughtfully, one finger pressed to her chin, "I may endeavour to bring her back, if I can discover where she is and what her situation is. Not an easy feat, I'll wager, but it seems cruel that she should suffer for the sins of her husband. Or her brother."

Henry had not thought it had been possible to love her more; it transpired he was mistaken.

"Why are you returning to London?" she asked.

"I've broken things off with Miss Winton. I thought it prudent to leave the vicinity for the time being. I'll return to my father's estate and do what I can to fix matters there. Perhaps there's nothing to be done. But . . ." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I must do what I can."

"Miss Winton's fortune would have done much to save your estate," she said without inflection.

"Perhaps."

"You would not be the first to marry for convenience's sake. Nor would you be the last."

"As touching as your regard for the lady is, drop the subject, Louisa."

"I'm sorry for her."

"She'll fare well enough—she had the goodness to tell me that herself."

Louisa nodded approvingly. "Then she's a girl of spirit. Good. I would hate for her to be a ninnyhammer. I hope she has the good sense to find a decent husband who will treat her well."

It was more likely she would marry a fortune hunter, but then again, had he not been a fortune hunter? Merely one who had balked before securing his prize.

A horrific thought. He could not dismiss it.

"I don't wish to marry you for your fortune," he said as the lamp swung and the wheels rattled underneath them, eating away the miles. "And if you would have me, I would have married you now even if you were as poor as the day you asked me. Even if you had nothing to your name." He nodded, a full stop at the end of his sentence, a gesture of finality. "I wish I had married you that day. I think about that life often, and what we would have faced. Whether after a decade of hardship, we would have still loved each other."

"Do you think we would have done?" Her voice was barely audible above the sound of the carriage's endless movement.

"I would have done." He made a restless movement. "I seem incapable of not wanting you, no matter how hard I've tried."

She shifted, moving closer, her knee brushing against his. "And have you tried very hard?"

"Every second for nine years."

Raw agony flashed across her face, a lightning strike there and gone. Then she rose, swaying with the movement of the chaise. He caught her hip without thinking, and she sank onto his lap, moving her skirts out of the way. "When we return to London, we will forget one another and the past."

His arms encircled her, drawing her closer. "And until then?"

"Until then," she whispered, "we have tonight."

He could think of no reason to refuse her, save the pain of parting.

But that was tomorrow's heartbreak, and if he was taking his future's joy and spending it now, then so be it.

It was madness, foolishness, but love so rarely trod the path of reason.

"I want you," he said as her mouth pressed a sweet kiss under his ear. I love you . He would not say it.

"I know." She shifted eagerly on his lap, her desire a visceral thing between them. A lake he could drown in. "Take me. I am here; I am yours."

Louisa wrapped her arms around his neck as he pushed inside her. Their movements were frantic, the passing of time marked so notably by the movement of the carriage. In an hour or so, they would need to stop and change their horses, but she would not let herself think of the future. There was only now.

There was only him.

They both groaned as she sank down all the way. His hands were on her hips, and she gathered them in hers, sliding her fingers through his and pinning them to the seat on either side of them.

"You are mine," she said.

"I always have been. Since the moment in the maze." His eyes held hers, even when she circled her hips and his breath left his body in a sharp exhalation.

He would not be hers soon, and she knew it would be better for them both if he forgot her, but that was a raw thought, jagged and painful as a thorn.

Instead, she fixed her gaze on his face and watched the play of emotion across it. The taut lines as he held back and let her take control, the way his sensuous mouth found hers. Their mingled breaths in the darkness, as the carriage rumbled and swayed and the lamp swung.

Her peak came too fast and she slowed, experimenting with different movements as his head hung back and his eyes glazed. He was undone, she knew, and by her. Just as she had always wanted. But with the victory came the sting of regret.

She could not have his children—she did not want his children—and she could never marry him. Even if she were prepared to sacrifice her freedom and hand her wealth into a man's hands, she could not so blight his future.

He needed an heir, and a wife both capable and prepared to give him one.

I think of our life often .

No doubt his thoughts, his assumptions, were about the kind of life she could never offer him.

"Louisa," he said. Just her name. And yet she heard all the unspoken things contained inside it.

Perhaps he would be the one to unravel her. Layer by layer, until she was nothing but bare, beating heart, just as she had been as a girl. Just as she had been when he had first come along and broken it.

It was a frenzied thing, their coupling. His body and hers, still mostly dressed. Clumsy kisses, strangled groans, urgent thrusts and undulations as they brought each other to the brink and backed away at the last moment. Hungry, deep kisses. Shuddering sighs. His fingers were tight around hers, and she bent her head against his shoulder.

"I can't keep doing this," he said, voice hoarse.

"What?"

He groaned. "I need you."

"I want you," she said against the skin of his neck, all hot breath and grazing teeth and unleashed desire. "I need you."

I'll miss you .

The thought was so sudden that although they were joined in the most intimate of ways, even though hot pleasure pooled deep inside her, a tidal wave ready to unleash at any second, her chest tightened with a sudden stab of pain, and her breathing hitched. Tears stung her eyes, and she released his hands, bringing them to his sides as she pressed her face further into his shoulder.

"Louisa?" He pulled at her shoulders, trying to ease her back and look at her face. "Did I do something to hurt you?"

"No, no." Her words were fractured; her voice broke. "It's nothing."

"Please, let me see your face."

There was only one thing she could do. She moved on him, faster than before, hitting that place deep inside her where her pleasure spooled. And Henry might have been a wonderful man, the best, strongest man she knew, but he was still just a man, and he was helpless against her.

His body stiffened, and she reached a hand between them, touching herself as she rocked against him, and his arms tightened around her as, moments after his pleasure ended, hers began.