Page 24 of The Thorn and the Rose

“Are you afraid of him, Marie?”

She stared at him for a long time before she gave a barely perceptible nod.

Thorn tightened his grip on her hand. “I must get you away from him. I just want to help you, to keep you safe. Listen, if you won’t go to my family, there is another place. It’s out of the way and quiet. It’s perhaps not ideal, but you’d be well cared for until we can figure something out, something better.”

Something flickered in her face, her mouth tightening a fraction. She looked away from him. “W-What place?”

The words were breathless, nervousness he supposed.

“Well, it’s a lovely house called Gillmont, not that the name matters, but it’s private and no one will know you are there. Your brother could not find you there and you’d be well looked after. Safe.”

She stiffened, and there followed a taut silence. “Gillmont,” she whispered. She sat rigid and unmoving for a long moment, and he wondered if he’d said something wrong. Suddenly, she looked up at him and smiled. “You’ve been so very patient, Mr Barry, so honourable. I am sure I do not deserve your… your kind attentions.”

Thorn looked down at her, unease sliding beneath his skin. There was an almost flirtatious softness to the words, and something else, something he could not decipher, but it seemed out of character with the woman he had conversed with until this moment. Yet she was staring up at him as though he’d hung the moon, everything in her posture inviting him to put his arms about her, to kiss her. He stared down at her, at the pearly softness of her skin, at the delicate line of her slender throat. Her lashes were thick and sooty, holding his gaze as he drank in the sight of her. Gold and bronze shimmered in her eyes, and he was caught fast. He needed to know this woman, to unravel the mystery of her. He wanted to unpick the stitches of every secret and have her laid bare before him in every sense of the word.

Desire thrummed through him, simmering beneath his skin. His gaze dropped to her lips, and she lifted her chin just a little, making his breath catch in his throat. Did she know what she did to him? Was she as innocent as he suspected, or was this calculated to draw him in? He neither knew nor cared, for he was powerless against the pull of fascination that she held for him. Ducking his head, he kissed her, unable to resist the invitation she had so blatantly given. Her lips were impossibly soft, plush and giving, and she swayed closer to him. She trembled in his embrace, making him want to hold her tighter and promise he would protect her, from everything, from her brother, from the world if necessary. Reminding himself severely of where he was and what he was about, Thorn straightened.

“Forgive me,” he whispered, the words husky as the need to show her what a kiss really tasted like burned inside him. “That was irresistible.”

“Was it?” Her cheeks glowed pink, her eyes glittering and her breath coming in short little gasps, yet there was a private edge to the words he could not read, and he was uncertain once more of what she was asking.

“You have haunted my dreams, Marie, and near every waking moment. I was torn between joy and despair when your letter arrived.”

“I have thought of you too,” she admitted, the ghost of a smile flickering about her lips.

“Then let me help you. Gillmont—”

“No.”

The change in her demeanour was startling and Thorn had the distinct sense he had no control whatsoever over this conversation. Worse, he had learned next to nothing about the woman beside him in the time they had been together.

“I must go.”

To his dismay, she got to her feet and began to walk away.

“Marie,” he went after her, catching hold of her hand. “Marie, wait. You cannot just go, nothing is settled.”

She turned and faced him, staring at him. “Do you… do you really care what happens to me?” she asked, such desperation behind the words his heart ached.

“I do,” he told her, trying to convey with the force of his words how much he meant it. “Very much.”

She let out a soft sound, somewhere between a sob and a sigh. “Then you would do well to let me go and forget we ever met. For both our sakes.”

“No,” he said, for that was impossible. “Listen, I’ll write to my brother. He has a place up in Monmouthshire. It’s remote and private. You could have one of the cottages on the estate.”

“No.”

“Marie, you must give me something, some way to help you.”

“No, I must go, that’s all,” she said, and he could hear the edge of despair highlighting the words.

Thorn shook his head fiercely. “No, I won’t let you go. Not like this.”

“Then will you force me to stay?” she demanded, cold now, daring him to do so. “Will you shake me and shout at me and make me submit to your will?”

Thorn stared at her in shock, seeing the rigid way she held herself, as if braced for such behaviour. Was that what she expected of him? “Good God, no! No, Marie, I—”

“Then you must let me go.”