Page 131 of Heartbreaker of the Ton
Her heart thudding against her chest, she straightened her stance and took a step back.
A rush of cold air brushed across her neck in a caress, and she bolted, stumbling through the forest. Then a thick, dark shape rose ahead, blocking her path.
She screamed and jerked back as the shape seemed to float toward her, claw-like fingers reaching out.
Sobbing, she fled, ignoring the slashes against her legs as she tore through the undergrowth, until she caught her ankle and groaned at the burst of pain. She reached forward to break her fall as the ground rushed toward her.
But it never came.
A hand caught her arm and thick, strong fingers curled around her flesh.
“No!”
A pair of arms snaked around her body, tightening their hold.
“Juliette!” a voice howled.
“Leave me be!” she cried, but her assailant was too strong, holding her firm while she sobbed and struggled. But no matter how violently she beat against the arms holding her, they remained still, neither tightening nor letting her go—as if they merely waited for her strength to ebb.
Her limbs aching, she slumped against the body holding her, shaking with sobs, while the roaring subsided.
Then the voice spoke again, cutting through the fog of terror.
“Etty.”
Her heart ached at its gentleness and the memory it evoked—of a tender moment in a remote little cottage when she had opened her body and her heart.
“Etty, my love, be still.”
“A-Andrew?”
“Aye,” the voice said. Soft lips brushed against her neck, and warm breath caressed her skin. “It is I, my love. You’re safe now. None shall hurt you again.”
What must hethinkof her?
No—she couldn’t face him after what she’d done.
“Please let me go,” she whispered.
“No, my love. I let you go before and have regretted it ever since. I never want to let you go again.”
“B-but you said…”
“Do not speak of what I said, my love,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I said such cruel things, of which I am so ashamed. You have been nothing but kind, caring, and honest.”
She shook her head. “I deceived you—I deceivedeveryone.”
He turned her to face him, and she lowered her gaze, unable to look into his eyes. A tear splashed onto her cheek, and he placed his palm on her face and brushed her skin with his thumb.
“It pains me to know that I’m the cause of your sorrow, Etty,” he said. “You had every right to secrecy and privacy, given how the world had treated you. And my own behavior after you opened your heart to me showed that your fears were justified—that the weakest of souls would continue to judge you without understanding or kindness.”
“You are not weak, Andrew. I am the one who is undeserving.”
“Undeserving of what?” he asked. “Happiness, love? Or even—life itself?”
She flinched in his arms, and he drew her close, his body vibrating with anger.
“Neverthink you are undeserving, Etty,” he said through gritted teeth.
