Page 58 of The Duke's Stolen Heart
When their pleasure subsided, Antonia found herself cradled in his arms, spent. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead in the crook of his neck. One big hand stroked the back of her head.
“See? The bed held up just—”
Crack.
Antonia felt a drop and unwanted, abrupt separation of their bodies as the cot collapsed beneath them. Malcolm winced and rolled her over onto the mattress with him. They laughed, chuckling into the gloom of her bolt-hole apartment as they laid tangled together.
“I have one final favor to ask of you, Antonia,” Havencrest said as he lazily stroked her shoulder with the pad of his thumb.
“A favor? What makes you think I am willing to do any such thing?” Antonia teased.
Havencrest brushed a kiss against her temple, and Antonia marveled at the strength beneath soft skin dusted with wiry hair. The male form was a fine thing to behold—particularly his. Naked in this man’s arms was the first time she had felt at peace in a very long time. Now that she had surrendered to it, she was in no hurry to leave the warm comfort of his embrace. “The cash portion of your reward sits in that satchel. It is heavy.”
“I’ve a strong back.” The distance between them grew imperceptibly. Antonia felt it in the closure of her heart that had only moments before opened to this private, silent man.
“I have dispatched my man of business to handle the transfer of money into an account belonging to Mr. Anthony Lowe, as agreed.” Havencrest smoothed her hair against her temple. “If you don’t know by now that I will not be turning you over to the magistrate for your—” he tickled her lightly, and Antonia wriggled against him, “—grievous crimes, then nothing will. This is purely a favor between…”
“Between lovers,” Antonia supplied.
“Between friends,” he finished lamely at the same moment.
Friends. Her heart closed protectively like a clam shell snapping closed. There was only one man in her future, and his name was Anthony Lowe. “What is it you need?” she asked. If she gave him one last gift, perhaps Malcolm would understand the sentiment she didn’t have the courage to speak in words.
“I want you to make a final visit to my grandmother.” Havencrest let Antonia sit up, and she could not tell whether he understood that the shudder that ran over her skin was born of misgiving. She had come so close to being caught. Disappearance was the only safe option. Yet once she transformed herself into Anthony Lowe, prosperous merchant, she could never again have a man’s touch without risking her very life. It was almost too high a price to pay—except that she wouldn’t be rolling naked with a lover if she was hanged for theft, either.
“And do what?” Antonia asked, trying to conceal her misgivings.
“Give her the Heart’s Cry back.”
