Eve turned to meet his gaze. Her abrupt movement knocked his arms back to his sides and he mourned the warmth of her tall, slender frame. Had he truly ever seen her as plain? How, when she radiated more beauty than any woman he’d had in his arms before her? Tears filled her eyes and the sight of those crystalline drops ravaged him. She blinked furiously. Did she seek to hide those signs of her grief? Warmth filled his chest. How very proud she was.

“I share his blood, Lucas. As such, those crimes cannot be separated from who I am. I—”

“You are your own person and cannot take ownership of anyone’s decisions but your own,” he said gruffly.


Chapter 8

...You cannot take ownership of anyone’s decisions but your own...

Lucas’ words echoed between them as Eve stood there, allowing them to wash over her.

How long had she done precisely that? The muscles of her throat worked and, God help her, she fell in love with Lucas Rayne. Loved him for seeing her as a person removed from her father’s crimes. She loved him as a man who didn’t see a servant but rather a woman—a woman of value and strength—who’d helped her see those gifts within herself.

He opened his mouth once more, but she went up on tiptoe and kissed him. He went still. Then with a groan, Lucas guided her back against the wall and slanted his lips over hers again and again.

There was nothing gentle about this meeting. Eve moaned, tangling her fingers in his hair and layering herself against him. She parted her lips to receive him. He cupped her buttocks and she moaned again, but Lucas swallowed that sound. He ran his hands searchingly over her, coming up to palm her breast and through her modest nightshift, her nipple puckered under his ministrations.

“Lucas,” she pleaded, as he trailed his lips down the curve of her neck, sucking at the tender flesh where her pulse pounded.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, his breath fanning her skin. The fire of his touch spread like an out of control blaze, threatening to burn with desire for him.

A bang penetrated the haze he’d cast and brought them apart. Their chests rose and fell in a like frantic rhythm. The distant footfalls of an approaching servant drew closer.

Lucas fixed his gaze briefly on the door and panic riddled his features, replacing all earlier desire.

Her heart tugged, hating the chains that bound him still. “Go,” she urged gently.

He hesitated and then with several long, silent strides, marched across the room and drew open a panel door built into the wall. And just like that, he left.

With Lucas gone, she wandered over to the hearth and gripped the stone mantel.

Lifting her gaze, Eve found that gleaming sword affixed above the mantel. It stared back, mocking her with the truth. With her lies. With the barrier that would forever exist between her and him. For no matter what bond they shared or how deeply he’d slipped inside her heart, she would always be an Ormond and he a Rayne. And love was not enough to ever—

The door opened, and she spun around. Her heart promptly sank to her toes. “Mr. Rayne,” she finished lamely. In a bid to shield herself, she folded her arms at her chest.

The tall, commanding gentleman stood framed in the doorway. His midnight black jacket and breeches enhanced the edge of danger to his dark good looks. Where Lucas’ gaze warmed her, this man’s iced her from the inside out. How was it possible for these two to share blood?

Mr. Rayne flicked a cool stare over her and briefly shifted his gaze over to the point beyond her shoulder where the gladius rested. Then he returned his eyes to Eve. “Miss Ormond,” he greeted and slowly yanked off his stark white evening gloves.

Desperate to place distance between her and Lucas’ brother, Eve cleared her throat. “If you’ll excuse me?” she murmured and took a step to leave, when his words registered. Her stomach lurched and she spun to face him.

His face was set in a hard, unforgiving mask. “Yes, that is right, Miss Ormond. I know precisely who you are,” he murmured, folding his arms at his chest.

Oh, God. She shot a hand out and steadied herself with the stone mantel.

“You see, my family has been robbed of our due too many times in history.” Mr. Rayne flicked a hand. “I’ll not bore you with the details, as I expect, you, being an Ormond, well knows them.” Abandoning that relaxed pose, he took a step forward and Eve sidestepped his advance. “My sister saw the gladius rightfully restored and hung here after Lucas’ return as a testament to our reversed fortune.” He flared his nostrils. “I have not, however, forgotten the battles waged and won for this sword and, as such, I’m far more suspicious of strangers who are granted rights to this home. I took the liberty of uncovering the details of my brother’s latest servant and returned the moment I pieced together who you, in fact, are.”

Understanding dawned. “You believe I’m here for the gladius?” she blurted. Of course, it made sense and he was deserved of that suspicion.

Mr. Rayne snapped his eyebrows into a single black line. “Are you saying you’re not?” Not allowing her to respond, he flicked her white sleeve. “Wandering inside this room where the gladius is held, in the dead of night in your nightshift.”

Heat burned her cheeks and she balled her hands. She’d rather be thought of as a thief than a whore meeting his brother. Eve cast a desperate look beyond Mr. Rayne’s shoulder, searching, hoping—

“I want you gone,” the gentleman stated bluntly, wringing a gasp from her.

She shook her head as panic set her heart beating a frantic staccato. He’d order her gone and never again would she see Lucas. What would happen to Lucas and all that slight forward momentum he had made? Eve fought for a semblance of calm and found pride when her words emerged smooth and unaffected. “I am no thief,” she said coolly, favoring him with an up and down glance that earned another hard frown. She may be the daughter of a traitor but she was not responsible for their crimes. Lucas had shown her that. “Nor are you my employer. I’m here in your father’s employ and in Captain Rayne’s.” Lucas will not send me away.

“I raced here as soon as I learned your identity. My family is close to follow, at which point my father will order you gone.”

Oh, God. She drew in a jagged painful breath. “What about what Lucas...?” His eyes narrowed at that familiar address. “Captain Rayne,” she swiftly amended, “…wants?”

“Tell me,” he asked with a casualness that set her teeth on edge. “Do you truly believe my brother will want you here when he discovers who you are?”

“Yes.” The answer sprang immediately to her lips. A man who could see past her connection to the traitor who’d landed him in a French prison, was a man who could forgive her birthright.

Mr. Rayne tightened his mouth. “Very well. My father, however, will not. His love for the legend and power of that sword,” he motioned to the weapon at her back, “runs deep and true. And your insisting Lucas choose you over his own sire, proves the selfishness in your soul.” He sneered at her with that same derision that had stripped her of so much pride through the years. “Then, sacrificing my family’s peace for your own well-being? What else would one expect of a traitor’s daughter?”

He may as well have yanked that weapon free and splayed her open with it, as his charge ran through her. Lucas’ brother was a cold, unfeeling bastard; a man who had judged her, as so many others had before...and yet, in this, he was correct.

I have to leave Lucas. A sheen of tears blurred her vision and she looked away, refusing to allow him that victory.

“I’ve had a carriage readied and your belongings packed,” he said in bored tones. And with that, he turned on his heel and left her standing there, her world ratcheting down around her once more.

Chapter 9

Lucas had viewed his chambers as a sanctuary.

Until now.

He stood at the window overlooking the Kent countryside. The clock ticked away the passing moments and he gritted his teeth. Where in blazes is she?

In the weeks he’d come to know Eve, he’d learned many things about her: she was fiercely stubborn, outrageously clever, and contemplative. And prompt. The moment his valet beat his hasty retreat, she came shortly thereafter. Her movements in and out of these chambers had followed a punctuality reserved for a person who followed the drum.

Lucas glanced over his shoulder at the ormolu clock atop his mantel and squinted in a bid to bring the numbers into focus. Thirty minutes past seven. She was but twenty minutes late. There were any number of reasons for her absence. Mayhap she was still abed. They’d been awake well into the early morn hours. Mayhap—

Footsteps sounded in the hall and the tension left his frame as he swiftly turned to the front of the room. A faint scratching at the wood panel held him motionless. The hesitant knock. The bloody, bothersome—

RapRapRrap

His stomach muscles contracted. “Enter,” he called. But he knew before the door opened and the owner of that infernal rapping stepped inside that it was another. Because Eve had never, nor would ever, be a woman of that hesitant fear. It was just one of the marks of her strength and character that had captivated him since their first meeting.

Owen stepped inside, bearing a tray with Lucas’ morning meal. The pale-faced boy carefully avoided his eyes.

Even as he expected Eve, the muscles of his gut contracted and an irrational fear took hold. Again, there could be any reason for her absence.

“Where is Mrs. Nelson?” he demanded sharply.

Owen jumped and the items on his tray rattled noisily. “Mrs. Nelson?” the boy parroted, flicking his gaze about. The servant gulped loudly. “Sh-She’s not here, Captain Rayne, sir”

“Not here,” he repeated dumbly.

The boy set the tray down quickly by the door and backed away. “Y-yes, sir. Th-that is no, sir. Mrs. Nelson is gone.”

Gone? Lucas focused on his breathing to keep from descending into a maddening panic. Surely the boy was wrong. He would know if the sole reason for his happiness these past weeks had disappeared from his life. The world came to a screeching halt as the truth slammed into him. Since she’d entered his life, Eve had ushered in the happiness and light he’d despaired of ever again knowing. It was as though she’d opened the drapes to his soul and let life back in.

Owen dropped a hasty bow and made a quick beeline for the door. The movement jerked Lucas back to the present. “Wait!” Lucas’ sharp command brought the boy to a staggering halt. The young servant turned slowly back. Terror spilled from the lad’s eyes. Despite the fear clawing at his chest at the prospect of Eve simply vanishing from his life, regret was there, too. He no longer wished to be the man who scared off all and any who came near. I want to live again. “Where did she go?” he asked, gentling his tone.

The young man eyed him cautiously. “Your family returned, Captain.”

Lucas creased his brow attempting to make sense out of that divergent revelation. His brother’s betrothal ball wasn’t until the following week. What would prompt their return—?

“Lord Rayne’s betrothal...” Owen again swallowed loudly.

“What of it?” Lucas urged, taking a step toward the servant. And what did Richard’s betrothal ball have to do with Eve or his family’s return?

Owen cast a longing glance over his shoulder at the path of his escape. “Not my place to gossip, sir,” the boy fairly begged. “But the lady broke off the betrothal.”

Richard had suffered heartbreak at another lady’s hands? For so long, Lucas had not given thought to anyone’s happiness or misery beyond his own. Yet again, he was reminded of how Eve had dragged him back to the living, forcing him to again feel for not just himself—but the family who’d always loved him.

Then the words tumbled out quickly, spilling over one another, as Owen rushed his telling. “I hear tell from Mrs. Bramble, who heard from Mr. Haply that Mrs. Nelson isn’t, er...wasn’t who she said she was. The earl found out and rushed back to show her the door.”

A dull humming filled Lucas’ ears. No. His breath came raspy and harsh, the same distant, muffled sound that had filled his head in the heat of battle. His father had sacked Eve? The young woman trapped in her past, who he ached to set free. And just as much, he wanted to set himself free.

For with Eve, he’d forgotten what he’d done and what he’d been subjected to and, instead, existed as a man. They may as well have been any couple, learning of one another. After two years of being treated as more creature than man, a person to be pitied, she spoke to him. And his blasted father had turned her away.