It was happening! It had worked!

If he hadn’t come to her, she would have found a reason to draw him in. Knocking something down, weeping loudly, something to bring him to her door.

This was much better. It made the entire affair appear to be more his idea than hers.

She took a step backward, then another, until the insides of her knees touched the bed. Her skin broke out in gooseflesh, a tremor running from head to toe at the sight of his eyes.

He wanted her. She’d known he did.

And she knew then that she wanted him, too. It was wrong, completely, but perhaps better this way. She would not be giving herself to a man she cared nothing for.

As she likely would have done if the man in question had been the earl her father sold her to.

Brice reached for her, his strong hands taking her arms, pulling her to him until their bodies touched once again. This time, she wore only a light, linen shift with nothing beneath it. Her heart raced at the illicit thoughts which ran rampant throughout while her body reacted in ways she’d never experienced.

He leaned down, still looking into her eyes, his mouth a hair’s breadth from hers. She could not help but tremble; whether it was fear or something darker, deeper which caused her to do so, she couldn’t tell. She only knew that whatever he wanted from her was something she wished to give, rather than forcing herself to do so.

Her eyes closed, her head fell back in anticipation of his kiss. She held her breath as delicious promise—and the possibility of freedom—lingered just a moment away.

A moment which extended itself longer than she’d expected.

Finally, when nothing happened, she dared open her eyes.

And found him looking at her as though he was enraged.

“What is it?” she whispered, still half-lost in a daze. He looked so angry with her.

“I almost fell into your trap.” He nearly shoved her away from himself, forcing her to fall back onto the bed with a startled cry.

“What? I was not trying to trap you!” In the cold light of his rejection, she suddenly felt underdressed. Immodest. She scrambled to cover her thin shift with a blanket, her hands shaking.

“Ye would’ve trapped us both,” he snarled.

She flinched away from the animal sound of his voice, memories smashing into her from all sides. Memories of fear and rage and pain.

At the sight of her reaction, something in him changed. His eyes softened, his face shifted, his shoulders fell. He no longer reminded her of a hulking beast fighting himself to refrain from harming her.

Even so, it did little to relieve the rising rush of dismay his rejection inspired. She rolled to her side, away from him, and burst into heartbroken sobs the pillow was barely able to muffle.

“Alana. Do not do this.”

The bed shifted as he sat beside her, at her back. She curled herself into a tight ball, knees drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around herself. As though she might protect herself that way.

“You…don’t…understand…” she sobbed, struggling even to breathe much less to speak clearly.

“Nor do ye,” he insisted, murmuring close to her ear.

“Please, leave me alone!”

“Not until I try to make you see. It’s for your own good, lass. I wish I could make it clear.”

“Stop. Please. I asked you to leave me alone.” It was hopeless. There was no escaping her fate, not anymore.

“If Earl Remington were to find ye ruined, he would not wish to marry ye. That much is true. But what would he do after that?”

“I do not know.”

“Aye. Ye do not.” The hand he placed upon her shoulder was not rough, but gentle. Perhaps even tender. “Alana. I couldna live with myself if I were the reason for him—or your father—to abuse you in any way,” he added as an afterthought.

She tried to shake away his hand, comforting though it was when she imagined what he’d described. He was more than likely correct—at least, he was when it came to Douglas Stewart. He would use any excuse to punish her.

The memory of that lashing was fresh enough, even after so many years.

She had better control over herself then and was able to whisper, “You’ve no idea how humiliated I am—and before you remind me it’s my fault, I’ll ask you to save the effort. I’m well aware that any humiliation is on my head.”

“Ye needn’t feel as such,” he murmured. “I can understand why a lass would go as far as ye nearly did. I would never blame ye for being afraid.”

“Worse than afraid,” she whispered, shuddering at the thought of what being Remington’s bride would mean.

“Perhaps it won’t be as bad as all that.”

She snorted, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her shift. “Come now.”

“Ye do not know him. He could very well be kind, considerate, a good husband.”

“He bought a wife.”

“It could be he needs to carry on the name. I may not be in the acquaintance of nobility, but everyone knows it’s important for the line to carry on. Even I.”

That did not make the thought of marrying him any easier to bear, but she saw the futility of further argument. Brice was correct, damn him. If she were ruined and Remington were to learn of it, he would hold both her and Douglas Stewart and even Brice accountable.

“I’m terribly sorry, lass.” He patted her shoulder in the most awkward fashion. “I truly am. I wish…”

“Please. Spare me your wishes.” She waved a hand over her shoulder. “Leave me alone now. I beg you.”

“Will ye…”

“I will be all right, and I will not attempt to flee,” she added. “I know how thoroughly ensnared I am. There is no further chance to be free.”

“Oh, Alana.” He got up, the bed shifting with the loss of his weight, and closed the door softly behind him when he left.

Only once it was closed and she was alone did she turn onto her back, staring up at the ceiling as tears rolled down the sides of her face and soaked into her already damp hair.

It wasn’t like before, the first time that he had turned her away.

She hadn’t truly wanted him then. He’d merely been a way for her to escape her fate.

When he’d pushed her away the first time, her pride had stung.

Now, lying alone in a foreign village—a foreign country—it was her heart which ached unbearably.