“Why? The Duke has great affection for you.” He paused. “Bloody hell, I refuse to be a coward. I have great affection for you, Miss Donovan.” He startled her by picking up her hand, linking their fingers. “I want you to stay.”
Kendra’s heart flipped at the expression in the green eyes. She forced herself to shift her gaze away, scanning the rolling hills and forest, the castle below. There were workers in the gardens, with their hoes and clippers. From this angle, she couldn’t see the stable yard, but she knew it would be teeming with the workers needed in a world where machines were scarce.
This wasn’t her world. But could she make it her world? She couldn’t.
Could she?
“I’ve never met anybody like you,” Alec continued, tugging at her hand to bring her attention back to him. “I’ve never felt what I felt for you. This, I believe, Miss Donovan, is what the poets call love.”
For just a second, everything seemed to stop moving. Then Kendra let out her breath. “That’s insane.”
“Love has always been a form of madness, I suppose.” He smiled whimsically, and pulled her closer. “I realized it when I thought you might be dead. I thought I’d lost you. I don’t want to lose you to this damn vortex. I want to marry you.”
“It’s impossible. I don’t belong here, and even if I stayed, I can’t marry you. You’re a marquis. I’m . . .” She lifted her shoulders in a baffled shrug. “Here, I don’t know what I am. It won’t work.”
“Give me time, Kendra. ’Tis all I ask.”
She bit her lip, as fear—and something else—churned inside her. “I only have four days.”
“Four days.” He brought his lips to the inside of her wrist, where her pulse beat rapidly. “That is 96 hours.” He moved higher up, to a sensitive spot near the crook of her arm. “Or 5,760 minutes.” He nuzzled the side of her neck. “Or 345,600 seconds.” He kissed her on the mouth. “That may be plenty of time, I think, to persuade you to stay.”
He kissed her again, taking his time. When he finally lifted his head, Kendra was breathless. “Is this your idea of persuasion?”
There was laughter in the green eyes now. “Is it working?”
Kendra smiled. “Well, it’s not a bad way to pass the time.”
“Good.” He lowered his head, his eyes fixed on hers. “Because I plan to make every second count.”
EPILOGUE
Present Day
The men were already waiting for him in the conference room. Philip Leeds was careful to mask his exhaustion and worry from their sharp eyes, placing his briefcase on the long table. The dark wood of the table was so polished that it acted as a mirror, reflecting the grim faces of the other three men as well as his own.
“I apologize for my tardiness—”
“You should be apologizing for your goddamn agent!”
That outburst had come from Bradley Thompson, the CIA Associate Deputy Director. His leather chair squeaked as he leaned forward, chin jutting out aggressively. “Do you know how much your agent has cost us in intelligence?”
“You wouldn’t even have had Greene without Agent Donovan,” Peter Carson, assistant director of the FBI’s New York field office, reminded him.
Leeds knew of the animosity between the two men. He suspected Carson wasn’t so much defending Kendra as he was as poking Thompson.
Thompson glared at Carson. “Well, we sure as hell don’t have him now. What’s wrong with your agency? The whole mission went south because your man was a traitor. And now a valuable asset was eliminated by Special Agent Kendra Donovan!”
“Enough!” The order came from Dean Cooper, the deputy director of national intelligence. Physically, he was the least imposing man in the room, his wiry body reaching a scant five feet, six inches. But he still wielded the most power. “We’re not here to point fingers. In fact, we’re not here at all.” He smiled slightly, but it was a smile that didn’t reach the eyes behind his thick, horn-rimmed glasses.
Cooper inclined his head toward Leeds. “Associate Director Leeds, give us your report.”
“We know who is responsible,” said Thompson. “The production company coordinator, Mrs. Peters, identified the photo of Kendra Donovan—”
“I must not have made myself clear.” Cooper cut Thompson off without raising his voice. “I specifically asked Associate Director Leeds to give us his report.”
Thompson turned red at the rebuke. Pressing his lips together, he folded his arms in front of his chest and glared at Leeds, as though daring the FBI head to contradict him.
Ignoring him, Leeds clicked open his briefcase. He took a moment to put on his reading glasses, and then opened a manila folder.
“Special Agent Donovan set up a false trail to Mexico, but she actually flew out of New York’s JFK under an assumed name. She landed at Heathrow, rented a car, and drove to Aldridge Castle. There, Agent Donovan inserted herself into Stark Productions, posing as an actress. Several of the participating actors identified her as Cassie Brown.”