Dangerous Passions

Adrian strode into the house as he always did, his movements forged with purpose, yet his expression held none of the tenderness she had seen in his face last night. “Things are progressing as planned,” he said brusquely.

“Ravenscroft has ordered my immediate return to the archduke’s army.”

Her eyes squeezed shut for a heartbeat.

“I thought…I thought you would be staying at least a couple more days.”

He only shook his head. “Time is of the essence now. With Bonaparte so close, it is imperative I get back as quickly as I can.” He glanced toward the door as if he couldn’t wait to leave, his features distant and remote, as though the man she had known last night was already gone. “Why don’t you walk me to the door?”

“Yes…yes, of course.” Dear God, she couldn’t think, couldn’t believe this was happening so quickly. Adrian’s big hand settled at her waist, urging her out of the room. In seconds, he was standing at the bottom of the steps, checking his saddle and equipment, turning to smile at her like the stranger he had become. Don’t go! she wanted to say. I love you! Please don’t leave me! But she was afraid to say it, afraid to tell him the truth.

“Time to go, angel,” he said lightly. “Take care of yourself.” He started to turn away, to swing himself up in the saddle, but her softly spoken words held him back.

“Aren’t you going to kiss me good-bye?”

He stared at her and the mask he wore began to crumble. Stark pain twisted his features, despair unlike any she had ever seen. She was in his arms before he had started up the stairs, clinging to his neck, pressing her cheek against his, unmindful of her tears.

“Don’t cry, angel,” he said. “I can’t bear it if you cry.”

She captured his face between her hands, drew his mouth down to hers for a last, desperate kiss. Adrian deepened the kiss and his arms tightened painfully around her. She could feel him trembling, hear his sharp, raw intakes of breath. “I have to go,” he whispered, but he didn’t release his hold, just stood there on the steps, his arms wrapped tightly around her. “I have to leave.” But still he didn’t let go.

She looked up, into his dear, beloved face, read the despair, saw the heartache that surpassed even her own, and knew in that moment that he loved her, too. Dear God, he loved her–as she had prayed he would–yet the tension in his body, the harsh rise and fall of his chest, said that it did not matter. “You won’t be back,” she said softly, aching at the words she knew were true. “This isn’t just good-bye until your return; this is good-bye forever…isn’t it, Adrian?”

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