Three days.
In truth, he had no idea how he could keep her presence secret from Priscilla or anyone else, but he would find a way.
“THREE DAYS,” Amy agreed solemnly. Three days. Three days more than she had any right to hope for or deserve.
As though to seal their secret pact, Colin lifted her hand and kissed the back, then, his gaze locked on hers, he turned her hand over and kissed the palm, his lips warm and tender. Amy closed her eyes as shimmering tendrils of feeling swept up her arm.
Colin moved closer, pulling her up to sit and gathering her into his arms. For a fleeting moment she worried that she wore nothing but her chemise—again—but then all thoughts fled when his mouth met hers.
Amy felt like she floated on a puffy, comforting cloud. She tasted warmed, rich brandy. By degrees the kiss grew deeper, possessive, imprinting the memory of him so deep inside her that she knew she’d always carry a part of him with her, though they be parted by a sea and the impossible gulf of lives that had never been meant to cross.
Colin kissed her for a long time, then pressed her cheek to his shoulder. He sat motionless, enjoying her light rose fragrance and listening to her ragged breathing, matched by his own. In the stillness, he could feel her heart thudding, for him. And he was seized momentarily by a profound sense of sadness, for what was, and what couldn’t be.
At last she lifted her head, raised a hand to shove the long, inky black strands from her face, and gazed at him wordlessly. Her eyes were deep purple, brimming over with a complicated blend of affection and pain.
Incredible, incredible pain.
He pulled her closer, unwilling to look into those sorrowful eyes just now. “Hush, love,” he whispered into her hair. “Don’t think on it. We have three more days. It’s a lifetime.”
It’s not, she thought. But it had to be. It was all she would ever have.
Colin brushed his lips over hers once more. “Don’t think,” he repeated, and then he proceeded to make sure she couldn’t, with his lips and the incredible power he had at his disposal—the power of two souls that were made to be one.
FORTY
HEARING VOICES in the corridor a few minutes later, Colin pulled away from Amy. Weak morning sunlight streamed through the window. When had that happened?
Hang it, it must be later than he thought.
Or earlier.
Whichever, it was bad.
Now the staff was up and about, and he’d be hard put to leave Amy’s chamber unnoticed, which was imperative if he wished to keep the gossips at bay. The servants’ grapevine was well established in London; should he be caught in here with Amy, the news would be common knowledge before the day was out.
“What is it?” Amy asked.
“Hush.” He sat still, listening, waiting for the best time to stand and make a run for it. Listening…
Wait, he thought with a silent groan. Those weren’t servants’ voices, chatting in passing as they went about their daily chores. The voices were louder and much more familiar. Jason’s voice, and Ford’s and Kendra’s.
Of all the rotten luck.
He’d thought he could spend his evenings with Priscilla and an hour or two in the daytime with Amy, playing a game and pleasantly passing the time. And, all right, kissing. He’d be kidding himself if he thought there would be no kissing.
But it would be harder now, perhaps even impossible, to keep Amy’s presence a public secret.
Or maybe…ah, yes. His mind raced as he slowly released the breath he’d held since recognizing the voices. His family liked Amy. They didn’t know he’d been kissing her. They could even act as his cover—yes, she’d stayed at Cainewood, after all, and they considered her their friend.
It would work—so long as he wasn’t discovered in her bedroom. They’d never approve of that.
The voices faded. “I must leave now,” Colin whispered. “You get some sleep.” He brushed a last kiss across her lips, then rose, padded to the door, and pressed his ear against it.
All clear.
He opened the door a crack, pleased that it didn’t creak. Poised to run next door to safety, he took a deep breath and flung it open—and was greeted by Kendra’s startled face.
He backed up and slammed the door shut.
“Colin?” Kendra’s muffled voice came through the wood. “Is that you?”
He cursed at himself. In one split second, he’d made a complete mess of everything. Why on earth hadn’t he walked brazenly into the corridor as though nothing were amiss? He could have simply explained that Amy had been crying and he’d stopped in to make sure she was all right. Or claimed she’d had a nightmare, as had happened the other night.
Now he looked every bit as guilty as he was, no doubt about it.
Kendra hammered on the door. “Colin? What are you doing in there?”
A hand on the door latch, Colin stood rooted to the spot, his gaze riveted to Amy. She watched him, her eyes wide, her mouth gaping open.
The mouth he’d just kissed.
Footsteps approached. “What the dickens?”
He sagged against the door. Curse it, Jason was there now, too.
“Colin’s inside.” Hearing Kendra’s smug tone, Colin could cheerfully wring her neck. “Hiding. With Amy.”
There was nothing for it. With a last, lingering glance at Amy, Colin opened the door and slipped through. Closing it behind him, he leaned against it protectively. “Shh!”
“What were you doing in there?” Kendra hissed back.
He mustered his most convincing whisper. “Amy was having a nightmare. I was just checking on her.”
“Is that so?” Kendra crossed her arms. “Then why did you shut the door when you saw me?”
He wrinkled his brow in what he hoped was a puzzled expression. “Were you there? Amy was calling out again, so I went back inside.”
“Poppycock! You think I’d fall for such an old chestnut? I didn’t hear a thing. This looks mighty suspicious.”
“What business is it of
