Johanna’s eyes glistened. She blinked hard, and a single tear slipped down her cheek. “Even if I have faith in you, that’s not enough. I cannot forsake that child. I’ve already done enough harm, letting her leave London with her blackguard of a father. I did not even raise a protest. In my heart, I knew her father’s behavior was highly out of character. But I didn’t question him. Didn’t try to dissuade him.”
“Lass, ye cannae put this weight on yer shoulders.”
“Ah, but I have. I will regret my silence to my dying breath. I might have convinced Mr. Abbott it was not in Laurel’s best interests.” She sighed, a deep, anguished sound. “But I did nothing. Said nothing. ‘Not my place,’ I told myself. How very wrong I was.”
“Ye cannae be of help to the girl if ye allow yerself to be vulnerable. And I…I cannae abide the thought of harm coming to ye.”
She blinked, and her eyes went wide. “You cannot abide…? You are not my protector.”
“After what’s gone between us—”
“Gone between us?” Her hands slipped out of his, and she folded her arms over her chest as if putting up a shield. “And what precisely has gone between us? You took me to bed. We shared a few hours of pleasure. Nothing more. No words of love. No promises. No future. Simply two humans succumbing to temptation.”
Her words struck like a bare-knuckle blow to the gut. She was a tough one, all right. Nothing but steel beneath that soft, creamy flesh.
“God’s teeth, Johanna, ye might use that line in one of yer books.”
“Perhaps I shall.”
Her mouth curved. Not a smile. Rather, a look of regret. Did she rue ever touching him, ever sharing his breaths and merging their heartbeats? God above, he’d been an idiot. After all the women he’d bedded in his life, he’d gone and lost his head over this one. But Johanna had provided the remedy for that, hadn’t she?
“Be sure to include the line about the knight and the dragon. Classic, that bit of dialogue.”
She offered a small nod, as if it pained her to even acknowledge him. “There’s no point pretending what happened last night was anything more than a brief, albeit lovely, indiscretion. I am not an ingénue. Nor am I some skittish virgin grieving her maidenhood. We shared something beautiful, something quite remarkable, really. But sadly, it changes nothing.”
“Bluidy hell it doesn’t. It changes everything.”
She slowly shook her head. “Is that why you led me to believe you would convey me to Cranston when you have no intention of doing so? Because everything is different? Because one night of carnal passion changed the bond between us? Which are the pretty lies? And what is the truth? I want to believe you. Heaven only knows I do. If things were different…perhaps, just maybe, I’d tell myself what happened last night was more than a mere tumble between the sheets. I’d tell myself we were brought together by fate. Meant to be, as they say. But I cannot afford that beautiful fantasy. Not now.”
“I won’t lead ye into a trap. Ye won’t save the bairn by sacrificing yerself.”
Johanna squared her shoulders. “I have no intention of sacrificing myself. I don’t deny the possibility exists that events may take…an unfortunate turn. But as I see it, I’ve little choice. You, on the other hand, have the option to walk away. I never meant to drag you into this horrid situation. I never wanted you to put yourself in danger. You charged in to rescue the damsel you believed to be in distress, and in the process, you’ve mired both of us in a considerable quagmire.”
“I willnae leave ye, Johanna.”
Again, she shook her head, the gesture so subtle, he wondered if she’d even been conscious of the movement. “You will. In time. Even if we’re together when we deliver the ransom, in time, you will walk away.”
Something in her tone pierced him to the core. The lass had so little faith. In his character. In his word as a man. In him.
Silent and pensive, she seemed to study him. Damnation, why couldn’t she be like the others who’d shared his bed? Why did this woman, above all others, drive him to the brink of a madness of his own creation? Why did he even give a piper’s damn if she believed in him? He’d shielded her from men who’d use her beauty until there was nothing left to take. He’d stuck out his own neck to protect her. Even now, he could take the book and go after the stone on his own, leaving her adrift. Why did the look in those beautiful eyes—blue as sapphires—warm his soul at times and wield a punch to the gut at others? How had she made him question so much?
In truth, he could not fault her lack of trust. Though he’d protected her from ruffians, he’d offered no reason to believe he hadn’t acted out of his own interests. He knew well enough how to seduce a lass. But he’d never uttered the words that might soothe the doubts that nettled her, the tender affirmations that spoke of her place at his side, of the way she nourished his soul.
“After this is over, you’ll go to Dunnhaven,” she went on. “I will return to London. And from there, to my home in Philadelphia. In time, Laurel will love the city. I will have memories of you. Some sweet. Some passionate. Some infuriating. Perhaps, you will experience the same. But there will be nothing more…no bond that’s meant to endure.”