The Secret Love of a Gentleman. Jane Lark

was on the steps ahead of them, and she did not seem able to notice her surroundings.

      Rob nodded at Drew, to say he would help her manage it.

      But then she stopped. “I cannot.” She looked from Rob to Drew. “I cannot. Take me home. Please.”

      Rob held her hand more firmly and looked at Drew, who had half-turned. “You go in. I will take Caro back outside for a moment. If she still wishes to go home, I will take her and have the carriage sent back.”

      Drew looked at Caro, anxiety in his eyes, but she nodded. He smiled slightly, giving his cautious agreement, then turned away.

      Voices rose behind them as others began to climb the stairs.

      “Rob.” Caro’s fingers gripped his hand more firmly—clinging. “Please may we go?”

      He turned and led her back downstairs, past the group who’d just entered. Her arm trembled, and her breathing became hurried, short gasps for air. It was not a mere lack of confidence, it was a very real terror, the sort of terror he’d seen when one of his younger siblings had woken from a nightmare and were still unsure of what was real and what was not. But he knew Caro’s nightmare was not imagined; it had been real in the past.

      “We will walk this way,” he said, as they stepped back out into the night. The air was warm, humid and heavy.

      She drew in a deep breath as he walked her away from the carriages.

      A little further along the street the shadows cast by the moon dropped back into the churchyard. If they walked there it would be silent and they would remain undisturbed, and unobserved, while Caro had chance to calm herself.

      Rob’s heart thumped hard, and compassion gripped tight in his chest as he walked with her. “This way.” He led her through the wrought-iron gate onto the stone pathway leading towards the church.

      Once they were in there, the darkness consumed them, but it seemed to ease Caro, her hold on his hand softened and her breathing slowed.

      “Caro…”

      She did not answer and he could not really see her face.

      “If I remember rightly, there is a stone bench over there. Shall we sit for a while?”

      “My dress, Rob. I would not wish to ruin it.”

      Of course, that was foolish, the stone seat would be soiled. “At least let’s move further back from the street, then.” He was suddenly very aware that drawing her out here, alone, in the darkness, was perhaps the wrong thing to have done. People might make assumptions and gossip. But she was a divorced woman with some freedom, not a young, sheltered woman. But even so, he did not wish to damage her reputation. It would be better if they were out of sight.

      His fingers threaded through hers and he walked backward, pulling her slowly with him, relief swaying over him. At least she felt better. “Tell me why you became distressed?”

      “It is irrational.”

      Once they were on the far side of the ornate stone porch, they stood in a patch of moonlight and she looked at him with eyes that expressed an inability to understand or control how she felt. Fragility hung in the air about her, as her small hand held his, her fingers woven between his.

      “Remember that I am the man you may tell things to, even if you have never spoken of them before. You told me you loved Kilbride. I did not judge. Explain this to me. It will help, I’m sure.”

      “I do not even know why myself.”

      “Then tell me what happens. Tell me what you think. How you feel.”

      “It is just panic. Not even fear. But I suppose it is fear. It’s the thought of being surrounded and hemmed in, and… Then I see images from the past, flashes, moments of memory. But it’s not the memories that make it unbearable, but the feelings that accompany them.”

      “What feelings?” His fingers squeezed hers in encouragement

      “Rejection,” she said, quietly, her gaze falling to look at the stone pavement. “I suppose that is what I fear, rejection, humiliation—cruelty.”

      “Caro…” Compassion lanced through his chest and his fingers lifted to her chin. She was so, slender and delicate.

      He did not know if he lowered his head further or if Caro rose to her toes, but by some action their lips touched. Hers pressed against his, gently.

      He hadn’t kissed a woman for over a year, but then he’d never really kissed a woman, not a woman like Caro. He’d kissed barmaids when he’d been at college, before he’d realised what those women really wished for, but no more than that.

      Caro felt different, her lips were soft and gentle, tentative not urgent.

      The barmaids he’d kissed had been seeking payment, or escape from a life of service—Caro sought nothing but the press of his lips against hers.

      Her mouth opened against his lips.

      The barmaids used to thrust their tongues into his mouth as they pressed against him, desperately searching for opportunities of escape. Once his eyes had been opened to the way of society, of class and rank, he’d never let those women degrade themselves with him again.

      He stepped closer, his hand slipping to Caro’s nape, as need raced through his stomach.

      Her arms came up about his neck as he tentatively pressed his tongue into her mouth.

      His other hand braced her waist gently and her tongue stroked over his and danced around his elegantly.

      The sensation in his stomach hardened, fisted and grasped at his groin too.

      Her fingers combed into his hair, splaying across his scalp, bracing his head, as their tongues continued their exquisite dance.

      He sighed into her mouth, the sound leaking from his throat, as he held her more firmly. He’d never had emotions like this for a woman. The desire to lay her back and do far more than kiss her was a hard pull inside him. But it was wrong.

      He broke the kiss and looked down at her. The sound of their breaths filled the night air.

      “Caro…” What the hell had he done, had he just made a muddle of this? “I’m sorry.”

      She said nothing as her hands slipped from his hair. He held them. He had to make her understand that she need not feel afraid, so she could be free. “No harm will come to you here. You have my word. Drew is well respected. You will not be rejected or ill-treated.”

      “I know my fear is irrational. I told you. I am not rejected by your family but I—”

      “Then you must learn to believe it. I am here with you and I will not let you be rejected or harmed. I know you have courage. You are capable of this.”

      ~

      Courage… He’d used that word to her before. He was the only person who had, and perhaps he’d enchanted her when they’d kissed, because she truly felt strong. “Will you stay with me?”

      “Of course I will. There is no question of that.”

      She pulled one of her hands from his and touched his cheek. The moonlight coloured his features silver, making his hair, his eyes and eyelashes darker.

      He was young, beautiful, strong-natured, good-hearted—and he had kissed her.

      Emotions played through her nerves, but they were not fear and panic, it was anticipation and longing that made her feel shaky—desire.

      “Shall we return, then?”

      No. She did not wish to return. She wished to stay here hidden in the darkness and kiss him, but she could not ask for that. “Yes.” Her fingers dropped from his cheek and her heart beat more strongly as they turned and began walking from the churchyard.

      He walked briskly, as though he feared