Page 59 of A Perilous Passion

No! This was getting worse and worse. She had to stop him, no matter what.

“But what if I don’t want to marry a criminal?” she said. “What if I don’t want to wed a man with a price on his head?”

He stiffened and released her, stepping away. It cut to the quick to know she was hurting him, but for weeks now she’d barely given him a thought. The fire of her love for him, which had once filled her world from horizon to horizon, had died.

No, another man’s attractions had eclipsed Justin’s. Rafe’s attentions, like a comet blazing a trail across the night sky, had dazzled her and filled her very being.

Clenching her fists, she strove to resurrect the feelings she’d once had. She knew Rafe could never be hers—she wasn’t sure she even wanted him after he’d used her as he had—so why couldn’t she accept what was being offered to her now? She’d once thought she loved Justin. It might take a little while, but surely she could rekindle that feeling?

Except…she feared that was impossible now. Having felt the touch of a real man, she would never again be satisfied with that of a boy.

“Forgive me,” Justin said. “My sudden appearance has quite overset you. I’m asking too much all at once. I must let you become used to me again. I know I’m no longer the same man that went away. Please, just give me a little time, and I’m sure we shall deal as well as we did before.”

“But Justin, don’t you see? I can’t give you time! You must be gone from here at once. You’re in danger from the forces of both good and ill in this neighborhood.”

“What forces?” he asked with a frown.

“No, I cannot tell you, for another man’s life may depend upon it.”

“You don’t trust me?” His eyes shadowed with hurt.

“Of course I do. But the less you know, the less your peril will be. Besides, if the army’s looking for you, surely your sweetheart’s house will be one of the first places they look. You’d better stay here for now, and keep out of sight while I work out what to do.”

“I can look after myself,” he said staunchly. “I’ve been doing it long enough. Who’s this other man you mentioned?”

“Bear with me, for I think he might be able to help us. He’s very well connected, and he owes me a great favor. Please, just lie low, and as soon as I can, I’ll bring a basket of food for you.”

He made a move toward her, but she stepped briskly away and headed for the barn’s open doorway. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she called over her shoulder. “Speak to no one, not even the village children. Nobody can be trusted right now.”

As soon as she was out in the sunlight, she had to force herself not to race back to the path. When she reached it, she was shaking.

It had been an enormous shock to find Justin hiding out in the remote barn. It was an even greater shock to discover the drastic turn her feelings had taken.

After Rafe’s lack of trust in her, she was sure her opinion of him could sink no further. And yet, he still affected her more deeply than the man she’d once been head-over-heels in love with. If she could overlook Rafe’s faults to such a degree, there could surely be only one explanation.

She had fallen foolishly, hopelessly, utterly in love with Rafe Pomeroy, Earl of Beckport.

A man who didn’t trust her. And if he didn’t trust her, how could he ever love her back?

Not that it mattered. Even if he did care for her, they could never marry.

Because he was quite right not to put any faith in her. She was unworthy of his trust. She still hadn’t told him the ugly truth about herself.

Knowing Rafe, he was bound to find out, sooner or later.

Then he’d hate her.

And that would truly tear her apart.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Rafe stared gloomily out of his study window at the bright October sunshine. The riot of overgrown greenery in the garden was starting to fade, dappled with yellowing leaves or the dark swell of berries. The days were getting shorter, the risk of a French invasion lessening—at least, he hoped it was. Though, he still hadn’t completed his task and caught the traitor in the act of treason.

However, the blackness of his mood had been lifted slightly by a small breakthrough in his assignment. A patrol on the heath had uncovered a large pile of kindling.

It might be nothing—or it might be the beginning of another of the beacons intended to signal Napoleon as to the best moment to attack the English coast. He’d already found one completed beacon a few weeks earlier. If this kindling was the beginnings of another, he was close to being able to extrapolate a pattern, which would help him find the rest. He just needed to watch carefully, to see if the beacon would be completed, and, if so, who was directing the work. Hopefully, it would be the traitor, Lord Culverdale.

They’d left the pile undisturbed, but he’d mapped it carefully and informed his superiors in London. The letter he’d received in response had granted him more time to uncover the rest of the beacons, thank Moses.