My Lady Quicksilver

her.

“Why tonight?” she asked. A note of doubt crept into her voice. “Did he threaten you? What did he say?” The rustle of skirts swept closer. Then stopped. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

Would she care? His fingers tightened on the sill, then he slowly pushed away and looked at her.

A faint flush of color crept up her cheeks and her gaze dropped. Toying with the tips of her gloves, her shoulders slightly hunched, she managed to draw in a deep breath. “You shouldn’t have let him live.” Quiet words. “If you’d let me go, I could have—”

“Gotten yourself killed,” he replied, with just a touch too much vigor. Hell, if she knew what she was doing to him… His hungry gaze ran over her slender figure and despite himself, his body yearned for her. Just one touch. He knew if he went to her, she’d turn her face up to his eagerly, but would it mean anything? He didn’t know. He’d thought himself a great judge of character once, but now she’d shattered his perceptions with the web of lies she’d woven. He couldn’t see the truth anymore and it made him doubt each and every one of her actions.

“Why did you come here tonight?”

Rosa shrank a little, as if the weight of his gaze drove her shoulders down. “I wanted to say…I’m sorry.” That last was a whisper. “I couldn’t—I had to see you.”

Running his hand over the back of his neck, he crossed to the liquor decanter and poured himself a generous glass of blud-wein. Hell.

She took a deep, shuddering breath. “I know you won’t believe me. I can’t blame you for that, but I wish—I need you to know that I never meant any of this to happen.” She took a step closer, her skirts swishing. “I’m not good at this. I never have been. It was easier when I was Mercury, easier…as Mrs. Marberry.”

“Easier to lie?” he asked, tossing back the blud-wein.

“It wasn’t all a lie.”

Lynch put the glass down with a ringing sound. He turned—and then wished he hadn’t. Those vulnerable eyes burned him. He wanted to believe her. Gods, he hungered for it.

Just let go, whispered his darker side. Take what she’s offering. You’ll never get another chance.

And a part of him hated her for that, for the fact that his heart and body still wanted what it wanted, regardless of her betrayal.

“You should go.”

His quiet words lifted her head so sharply he might as well have slapped her. Determination stared back at him. “No,” she whispered. “I won’t. I know that I lied to you. I know you’ll never forgive me, but please, what I felt for you—”

He couldn’t stomach it anymore. Turning away, he crossed to the grate and stared into the ashes. Her letter was still there, a forlorn crumpled note in the powdery fine ash. “It meant nothing. I’ll forget it.” His own lie. “And no doubt you will too.”

“That’s not true.”

Lynch glanced over his shoulder darkly. “Isn’t it? Which part?”

“All of it. You want me. I know you do—”

He turned then. His body was as tight as a fucking violin string. “Maybe you’re wrong.”

“I can make you want me,” she declared, giving a little shimmy that slipped her capped sleeves over her shoulders. Her bodice softened, her plump breasts threatening to spill. “You wanted me once.”

“Whether I want you or not, it doesn’t change the fact that I don’t even know who you are!” he snapped. “I thought that I loved a woman, but she didn’t exist. I’ve had enough of betrayal to last me a lifetime.”

Rosa flinched. But she didn’t back down. Instead, her fingers went to the bodice and the little row of buttons that ran down the front of her finely tailored corset-dress. The light gleamed off the metal of her left hand; she’d taken her gloves off, no doubt to force him to admit to himself that she wasn’t Mrs. Marberry.

“You want to know me?” Rosa asked. “Then so be it. I was a thief. On the streets as a child. Then Balfour’s spy and later…later his assassin. I let my husband die because I couldn’t save him in time and I can’t tell my brothers how much I love them because I never have the words. Not when it means something.” Licking dry lips, she continued, “I’m not good, I’m not kind, I don’t seem to be able to feel such things that other people do—as if I can lock a box inside my mind and hide all of the…emotions inside it. But I can’t do that now. Not with you. I hate feeling like this. I hate being so uncertain. I hate the guilt, knowing that I was wrong, that I should have told you.” She struggled with a button, fingers trembling, cursing under her breath. “I don’t know what to say. All I have is this, to show you—”

“I’m not your husband,” he said, a brutal reminder of the one man she had loved. “You might have fooled him, but I won’t make that mistake again.”

Another arrow in the dark. Her skin blanched, still her trembling fingers began tugging at the little row of buttons. And no matter what he said, he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“You’re right. That was the mistake I made. Pretending to be someone that I’m not. Twice.” Uncertainty stilled her fingers. “I loved him, but…he didn’t know me. Not until the end, when Balfour told him what I was, what I’d done.” Sorrow shadowed her eyes. “I couldn’t go to him. I never got that chance. That’s why I’m here now.” She stiffened, as if waiting for a blow. “You said that your heart belonged to me, but you never truly knew me. All the…the ugliness… Now you do. And…if you want me to go, to truly go away, all you have to do is tell me that you don’t love me. Tell me that I’m not the woman you cared for. That there’s nothing in me that you could ever love.”

Her whisper cut him, her fingers trembling on the next button as she stared at him and waited for the guillotine to fall.

He couldn’t do it. He wanted so much to believe her. He wanted her too much.

Two steps and Lynch was in front of her, his hands reaching for her face. Cursing himself. Cursing the weakness in him that made him desperately long for her words to be true. The silk of her hair slid around his hand as he cradled the base of her skull and then her mouth met his and he was lost.

“God,” he whispered, yanking her hard against him. “Rosa—I wish—” Her tongue, hot and wet. Her hands grabbing him by the shirt so that he couldn’t get away. “I wish I could give you forever.”

“I’ll take tonight.”

Then her mouth met his and all thought scattered, except for the desperate desire to have her.

* * *

For a second Rosalind thought she’d failed, that he would turn away, not want her. But even as her lungs deflated he was moving toward her, his mouth swooping down to capture hers. The kiss was hard, desperate. For the first time, nothing lay between them and she couldn’t stop herself from clutching at him, her heart thundering in her ears and hope rearing its head.

He wanted her. Despite what she’d done. Despite her lies, the betrayal… Knowing everything that he knew about her, he still wanted her. This was what she’d never gotten a chance to see in Nate’s eyes. Instead, he’d died before she could dare ask if he could ever forgive her.

Forgiveness might not be so swiftly earned, not with Lynch. She’d hurt him so badly… But at least this was a start. At least he hadn’t thrown her out the window like she probably deserved.

Rosalind drew back for a breath, gasping, her fingers darting under his shirt. Greedy. So greedy for his skin, his body… To show him how she felt when she couldn’t find the words. He slid a hand through her hair, tilting her head back, and then his cool lips were running down her throat, the feel of it echoing between her thighs. Her back hit the wall, his other hand cupping her lush bottom and then she could feel the hard edge of his cock pressing against her stomach.

Grabbing the back of her thigh, he dragged her knee up, pressing hotly between her legs. Rosalind moaned, her nails sinking into the smooth skin of his back, trailing up the long, lean muscles. Somehow, her hand found his, then she was pressing it lower, over her abdomen and down, hot desire racing through her veins.

A soft gasp as he found her, wet and ready, his fingers sliding between the slit in her drawers. Her gasp or his, she didn’t know. Her head dropped back, nails digging into him as she bit her lip. He knew exactly where to touch her, exactly how to make her scream. But then this was the only thing she had never lied to him about. He knew her here. Knew every little place to stroke to drive her crazy.

Hard fingers sank inside her, his thumb stroking hard over the nub at the heart of all this pleasure. Rosalind