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Ice crept over him. “I asked you a question, Duchess.”
She squeezed her eyes closed tightly. “You touched me,” she said softly as if that would explain her betrayal.
He touched her?
Please do not stop, Edmond… How you make me burn, but such a wonderful delightful burn.
The tide of the dream rose in his head. The heat, the sheer joy of being buried in Adel, the tightness, the wetness, the comfort…it had been real. A low groan hissed from the back of his throat and rumbled in the room.
“Edmond,” she said on a softly shuddered breath, her eyes glistening with tears. “I know and I understand your fear, but I promise you I—”
“How?” his voice was a hoarse rasp. He knew the night in the cottage was somehow real, but he needed to hear it from her lips. The night that had been haunting his dreams, where deep in the darkest corners of his heart he had been hoping it was true, had been real? The passion he had tasted—never had he feasted on such wonder, such eroticism…and he’d wanted it to happen in the flesh. How foolish he’d been in his desires, forgetting the consequences of his actions.
Her throat worked to swallow. “You rode hell-bent away on your horse and I could not bear the idea of you being alone with your grief. I followed you and…and when you kissed me, I…we…” Guilt filled her eyes, but she tilted her head defiantly. “You consumed me, and I couldn’t resist the pleasures I felt in your arms.”
The challenge in her eyes nearly felled him.
Silence throbbed in the room like a wound.
“Say something, Edmond.”
Somehow the raw metallic scent of blood slinked into the room and filled his nostrils. There had been so much damn blood. Maryann had wept uncontrollably and pleaded with him to save her, save their baby, and he had stood by helpless, useless, and unable to do anything as she tired from the exertion of pushing, weakened from blood lost. He had watched the hope die from her eyes, and only fear had remained. He had done nothing…but watch in cold silence, trapped in his own hell and failure.
“Edmond?”
Adeline’s soft voice drew him back from the dark fraying edges.
She took a step toward him, anxiety clear in her eyes. “Edmond, I—”
“Get out.”
…
The words were like a solid blow to the center of Adel’s chest.
“Are you referring to my chamber or Rosette Park itself?” she asked with a calm that belied the feelings slashing through her veins.
The smoldering rage and contempt in his eyes frightened her.
“You lied to me.”
She lied to me. He’d sounded broken when he’d confessed what Maryann had done.
“I did not.”
“Now I understand your wariness the morning after. Madam, a lie by omission is deception.”
She closed her eyes. “It was not intentional…I slipped from the cottage and returned to the main house. When I saw you later and realized you had not remembered I-I simply did not want your chastisement, so I did not mention that we were together. I never thought I would have fallen with child.”
“Why did you not reject me when I reached for you?” he snarled.
“I tried.”
He jolted…hard. “I raped you?”
Her throat worked. It would be so easy to say he had coerced her, to avoid the heartache about to come. But that would make her such a monster. “You did not,” she said softly.
A hiss of relief slipped from him. “It has been eight weeks since, all this time you knew you had been at risk and you said nothing.”
