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His hands plunged into her hair, drawing her head closer. Her hands likewise needed purchase. One grasped his shoulder while the other slid into his silky hair.
Their lips parted for a moment. “Elizabeth,” William whispered. The desperate edge in his voice was impossible to resist. She pressed her body to his, her lips to his. This time he was less gentle, thrusting his tongue between her lips and stroking the inside of her mouth with vigor.
She had not even known people did such things, but it made kissing infinitely more pleasurable. With such delights to experience, how had Elizabeth torn herself from William’s side long enough to board a ship?
Without her awareness, he had drawn her into a standing position, allowing their bodies to merge even more closely together. One of his hands slid down her neck, skimming the top of her shoulder and trailing down her arm, leaving a tingling sensation behind. Her skin was so sensitized to his touch that she could feel the impression of each individual finger.
With a sudden twist, William wrenched his lips away from hers.
She made an inarticulate noise of protest, reaching for him. But he stepped away, staring at the high garden wall as his chest heaved. “Forgive me.” He swallowed hard. “I…should not have lost control…”
“There is nothing to forgive, sir,” she said.
He pressed a fist to his lips. “You do not know…” His eyes squeezed closed. “I am still a stranger to you.”
“A bit less of a stranger than five minutes ago,” she said with a smile. He did not return the grin, and hers quickly melted away.
“I cannot take advantage.”
“You are my husband. There is no impropriety.”
“If you only knew…” The words were uttered under his breath.
“Knew what, William?”
He did not respond. After a moment he shook his head and said, “I cannot impose myself.”
“You did not. I requested—”
“I— Please forgive me.” Without meeting her eyes, he turned on his heel and stumbled toward the house, leaving Elizabeth standing alone in the sunny garden.
***
Darcy knew it was cowardly to abandon Elizabeth in the garden, but he feared that he would never stop kissing her once he started—and that he would go beyond kisses. Preoccupied with his thoughts, he did not realize the doctor had a visitor until he passed the open drawing room door. By then it was too late to escape notice. Damnation! He had been so careful and now—
He continued walking, hoping the other man would ignore his presence.
“You there! Stop!” The man’s voice held a note of command. Darcy froze outside the door. “Come here.”
With no good reason to refuse, Darcy shuffled closer but stopped in the doorway. He had no desire to get any closer to the stranger. The man was medium height, with a beaky nose and receding hairline. But his clothes were well made, and he appeared quite prosperous.
“Guillaume,” Martin said slowly. “This is Sub-Prefect Roget.”
Chapter Eight
Blast! Fighting to keep his dismay from his face, Darcy gave the man a cautious bow. At least Martin was using his alias; that was a hopeful sign.
Still, Darcy’s heart pounded painfully in his chest. The sub-prefect had nearly unlimited power in his assigned territory. He could order Darcy arrested on little more than a suspicion—and then what would become of Elizabeth?
The doctor evinced no anxiety over the secrets they both concealed. “You said the neighbors had seen a stranger enter the house,” he said in a level tone. “Guillaume is my wife’s cousin from Toulon, here for a short visit.”
The official leaned back in his chair, the expression on his face assessing rather than suspicious as he scrutinized Darcy. “He looks healthy enough. Why is he not a soldier?” Darcy held his breath; conscription into the French army would be little better than being arrested. “I need thirty-three men to meet my quota this month.” The sub-prefect’s voice rose querulously. “You know how difficult it is nowadays to find able-bodied candidates. But they do not understand this in Paris; they only demand more recruits each month.”
Darcy suppressed a shudder; a man this desperate could do a lot of harm if they did not cooperate.
Seemingly unconcerned, Martin barked a laugh. “You do not want him. His body is healthy enough, aye. But his mind…” The doctor shook his head sadly. “He is quite insane. I tell his mother to put him in an asylum, but she refuses.”
Oh, Good Lord.
