Panic, acceptance, eagerness, and desire pulsed through her as his lips touched hers. When she was fifteen and the squire’s smooth son had helped her into a carriage, his eyes warmer than the summer sun, she hadn’t known what the feeling in the pit of her stomach meant. When Connor had begun to pursue her, she hadn’t known that the flurries in her stomach were desire.

But she knew it now. And those previous feelings were nothing compared to what Christian stirred.

He reached for her hand and interlaced their fingers. Her heart increased its beat as her mind frantically fought to determine what to do. Her rational side lost as he pressed soft, strong lips to hers.

She had been kissed before. A few stolen kisses, terribly exciting due to the forbidden circumstances, but not very satisfying otherwise. Some had been exceedingly wet, others chapped and dry; some had made her stomach clench, others had left her completely unaffected. This one was like none of those, as Christian’s lips skimmed hers lightly, allowing her to press forward or retreat.

She decided to press forward, only to be met with air as he pulled back. He tucked a strand of hair into her cap.

“Let’s go back to our room.”

They hastily made their way into the hall and into the safe haven of their room.

Christian softly closed the door and then walked toward her, his eyes dark and intense. She saw his intention as he leaned in, and instead of escaping, which he had given her plenty of time to do, she leaned forward as well. It was a sweet kiss, more along the lines of Lake’s kiss to Mary, but with the promise of so much more. She let the promise overtake her.

He pressed a few light kisses to the corner of her mouth, the middle, the other corner, his hands moving into her hair and tugging on the wrap.

“The light,” she breathed, wincing at her own cowardice.

Christian searched her gaze for a moment and then doused the light.

His fingers returned to her hair, removing the offending hair wrap, caressing the uncovered strands and tugging gently at the back of her head.

He was giving her a chance to stop. She threw caution and sense away and kissed him back, following the same pattern across his lips as he had done to her.

It felt heavenly, and Kate sank into him as their bodies drew closer and he pulled her onto his lap, straddling him. She had the fleeting thought that without trousers the entire maneuver would have been much more difficult.

Christian moved in the dark as if it were his natural habitat, and he pressed her to him.

The first chime of midnight sounded. She stiffened, but he kissed her more fiercely. She clung to him desperately as the second chime struck, and his fingers massaged the back of her neck as he continued to kiss her more deeply. The warmth of his body, lips, and hands contrasted with the chill of her memories—ghastly memories of the endless moments when she realized in a horrified haze that her father was dead and there was nothing she could do, and the clock continued its relentless knell, its toll that life cruelly continued on as her father lay lifeless.

Christian kissed her forehead and her eyes in the darkness before she even realized she was crying, and he held her to him, repeating comforting phrases, resting her head against his shoulder.

When she had regained a modicum of calm, he lifted her chin in the dark.

“Tell me, Kate. Why do you fear the chimes?”

Kate felt it all rush from her, the memories, the fear.

“The chandelier fell. An accident, they said. Crushed my father and hit me as well.” She touched her ear. “The hall chandelier. It was old, but Father loved it. We were bickering in the entrance hall, I didn’t want to go to the village. If only I hadn’t said anything. Hadn’t paused to argue with him. If only we had just gone to the village.”

“If you hadn’t paused, both of you might have died.”

“Or my father would still be alive.” She felt tears curl down her cheeks.

“You don’t know that.” He seemed to sense her tears and he brushed the wetness away with two swipes of his finger. “Why the chimes?”

“The chandelier fell and we both went down. I panicked; my head was on fire and there was so much blood. It took a moment before I realized that my father wasn’t saying anything either amusing or reassuring.”

She shuddered. “I saw him and panicked again. He was trapped. The chandelier was too big for our entrance hall, really, just a small cottage-style home. But Father loved that chandelier, said it reminded him of Mother.

“He was crushed,” she whispered. “Beneath the middle of it, the branches splayed on top of him like a crown. I managed to push it to the side, I don’t know how, I couldn’t lift it afterward. But Father didn’t move. No breath moved his chest, no beat pumped beneath his skin. And then the clock began to chime, the rhythm mocking the lack of any beat within his body, the chimes endless and unstoppable.” She shivered, and he pulled her nearer.

“Is that what you are running from?”

She shook her head against his chest, relieved to finally be speaking to someone. She couldn’t stop herself from letting it all out, especially as a confession shared in the dark.

“My father left me a small dowry. Enough to be comfortable. My half-brother wants it, since the rest of my father’s monies are legally tied at the moment, and he struck a deal with one of his cronies to take me off his hands and split it. I have one week before I am of age. I just need to stay out of his grasp for a week and then I’m free. My aunt wrote that she would take me in. She’s a stickler for propriety, and I can stay with her for a little bit before deciding what to do. She would not turn me over to my brother if I have funds and a possibility for making a suitable match among her circle.”

She touched the buttons on his shirt, hoping he didn’t think her a snob for some nebulous reason. “Not a brilliant match, of course; we are only on the fringe of society. And I know that until my—”

She cleared her throat. It had gotten stuck at the point where she almost confessed about her ear.

“—until things are more settled I will be at a very major disadvantage. But I have to deal with things the best I can.”

She couldn’t help the wistful note that entered her voice. “I don’t particularly care for high society and their airs. I just want a nice family in a small house, maybe by the sea.”

Her father had always talked favorably of living at the shore. And in so doing there would be a connection to him. He had always fussed that she should be looking at potential mates, but she had been happy to stay in their little house outside the village year after year. She knew he had been secretly pleased, for all his talk about having grandchildren.

Christian’s head bent down and rested against hers. “Maybe I can help.”

She smiled. It felt nice. Sometimes things were so much easier in the dark. “Perhaps we can travel to London together. You are headed that way later, correct?”

“Yes, but I meant maybe I could help with your situation with your brother.”

She jokingly tapped a finger on his chest. “You’re going to make sure I get to the solicitor’s without being abducted?”

“Well, you could always marry me instead of your brother’s awful friend.”

She laughed as she felt him jerk against her. She could only imagine the horrified look crossing his face as he suddenly realized what he’d said.

“A bachelor like you? I’m sure you Runners get all the girls you can handle.” She shook her head, her cheek brushing against the soft fabric of his jacket. “I know I am a diversion. I accept that.” It was a painful admission.

He brushed his cheek against her hair. “A diversion?”

“Yes. I’m not bothered. Well, not too bothered. I want this.” She chewed her lip and touched her ear. “Are you sure you want this?”

He lifted her chin and ran a finger down her cheek.

And with that he gently lifted her and placed her on the soft counterpane as he began to undo her shirt.