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It enraged him that she could be so lovely and yet so treacherous, and it was almost destroying him.
“So,” she said, keeping her head held high. “You’re returning to London. When?”
Graham kept his composure, though he wanted nothing more than to pull her to him and learn her truthfulness with a kiss. “First thing in the morning,” he said. “I have business to attend to, a club to run.”
“Ah, yes,” Bridget said. “Of course—back to your gentleman’s club, and your rakish companions, I suppose.”
Graham frowned. “What does that mean?”
“I suppose I’m merely wondering if—” she paused, frowning “—if I ever meant anything to you at all.”
Graham clenched his fists at his sides, shocked at how angry the accusation made him. He had no idea what she was talking about, and he did not care to argue the reputation of his club with her. A light rain had begun to fall, and he knew it was only going to get worse.
“Of course, you mean something to me,” he said shortly. “I have tried to show you that these past few days, and yet you continuously push me away.”
No! He had not come to talk about their feelings for each other. He was there to find out about his sister. But the way Bridget looked at him…
He had to tell her. He could not leave it like that without her knowing.
“Bridget, I…” He paused, sorting his thoughts as she watched him. The rain came harder, dripping down his nose, wetting his hair. He did not care. “I must go back to Londonbecauseof how I feel about you. Because you make me into a madman. I yearn for you as I have never yearned for another woman.”
“Graham,” she breathed. She took a step closer to him, and he clutched her hand to his heart.
“Do you feel how my heart pounds when you’re near?” he asked. “You took a piece of me I thought was cold and dead, and you made it alive again despite all I’ve suffered. Tell me—does it sound now as if I care nothing for you?”
She took a harsh breath, her fingers curling against his chest and fisting in his shirt. He was drenched through now, the rain pouring down. Her cloak did little against the downpour; she, too, was soaked.
“Graham… I didn’t know,” she murmured. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Then say nothing,” he replied. “And come here.”
He drew her to him then, and their eyes locked for the briefest of moments before he captured her lips in a kiss. He knew it was wrong for a thousand reasons—she was to be married, she might be truly wicked, and at the very least, she had betrayed his sister—but even so, he could not resist her. Graham kissed her hard, and she melted against him, responding instantly.
And he knew, deep down, that it was right. Perfect. He was exactly where he was meant to be.
Bridget’s other hand rose to his chest, and she took his shirt in her fists, pulling him to her while she kissed him desperately. It was as if she needed him to breathe, as if she could inhale only from his own air, that she was drowning without him. He kissed her until he could feel nothing but her, until her body warmed his, until he felt—
Tears. Yes, there were tears streaming down her cheeks, mingling with the pouring rain. And it was then that Graham remembered why he had come. It was because Bridget was clearly wracked with guilt, and he now thought he knew why. He pulled away from her abruptly, taking her by the shoulders as she sobbed, and he did not let her hide her face against his chest.
“Bridget,” he said, his voice hoarse. “You must tell me everything you have done. Youmusttell me why you betrayed my sister.”
Bridget stared at him in horror, her eyes wide. Clouds darkened the sky, and she desperately wiped her tears away with a wet sleeve. They were in no condition for such a conversation, and yet it seemed as if she had finally decided to do away with all the things holding them back.
She gripped his hand, then nodded at the edge of the woods.
“Come,” she said. “Let us stand in the shelter of that tree, and there… I’ll tell you everything.”
* * *
Bridget steeled herself as she guided Graham over to the tree, which at least afforded some shelter from the rain. She was so soaked by then, she did not much care if it continued to pour. No matter what, she was convinced now that her ultimate destination was the depths of the lake.
Since she had left Sedgwick Manor, she had come to terms with the notion of never returning. A stillness had settled over her—an acceptance of what was to come. Graham knew nothing of that, of course. She had come only to say goodbye, and then to leave all the horror behind.
Then, he had altered her course by revealing that he knew the truth.
Bridget swallowed hard as Graham grasped her hands, keeping her close. His kiss still lingered on her lips, the tingle of his touch rippling across her skin. She wanted nothing more than to hold him and for him to keep kissing her but she knew there were important things they had to discuss, and they had very little time to waste.
She had never been kissed. She longed to do it again, and again.
