She froze. Dear God, no.
“Lucy.”
Slowly, she opened her eyes. And whispered, “Gregory?”
He looked a mess, windblown and dirty as only a mad ride on horseback could do to a man. He must have sneaked in the same way he’d done the night before. He must have been waiting for her.
She opened her mouth, tried to speak.
“Lucy,” he said again, and his voice flowed through her, melted around her.
She swallowed. “Why are you here?”
He stepped toward her, and her heart just ached from it. His face was so handsome, and so dear, and so perfectly wonderfully familiar. She knew the slope of his cheeks, and the exact shade of his eyes, brownish near the iris, melting into green at the edge.
And his mouth—she knew that mouth, the look of it, the feel of it. She knew his smile, and she knew his frown, and she knew—
She knew far too much.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she said, the catch in her voice belying the stillness of her posture.
He took another step in her direction. There was no anger in his eyes, which she did not understand. But the way he was looking at her—it was hot, and it was possessive, and it was nothing a married woman should ever allow from a man who was not her husband.
“I had to know why,” he said. “I couldn’t let you go. Not until I knew why.”
“Don’t,” she whispered. “Please don’t do this.”
Please don’t make me
regret. Please don’t make me long and wish and wonder.
She hugged her arms to her chest, as if maybe . . . maybe she could squeeze so tight that she could pull herself inside out. And then she wouldn’t have to see, she wouldn’t have to hear. She could just be alone, and—
“Lucy—”
“Don’t,” she said again, sharply this time.
Don’t.
Don’t make me believe in love.
But he moved ever closer. Slowly, but without hesitation. “Lucy,” he said, his voice warm and full of purpose. “Just tell me why. That is all I ask. I will walk away and promise never to approach you again, but I must know why.”
She shook her head. “I can’t tell you.”
“You won’t tell me,” he corrected.
“No,” she cried out, choking on the word. “I can’t! Please, Gregory. You must go.”
For a long moment he said nothing. He just watched her face, and she could practically see him thinking.
She shouldn’t allow this, she thought, a bubble of panic beginning to rise within her. She should scream. Have him ejected. She should run from the room before he could ruin her careful plans for the future. But instead she just stood there, and he said—
“You’re being blackmailed.”
It wasn’t a question.
She did not answer, but she knew that her face gave her away.