Silence Breaking

26. Fragrant Yellow Flower in the Happy Moonlight

A muscle in his jaw ticked.

'He put his hands on you.'

'That's all? You can't be serious! You–'

His lips came crashing down on mine, silencing me. It was a hard kiss. A kiss of ice and fire that made my brain freeze and my blood boil. I felt the cold, hard bark of the tree digging into my back. I felt snow trickling down from above, decorating my hair with a coating of powdered sugar. And I didn't care, because I was in his arms, and he was kissing me.

'I,' he breathed against my lips, his hot, misty breath tickling my skin in the winter air, 'am always serious, Miss Linton.'

'But–'

'No buts!' Breaking the kiss, he stared down at me with arctic ferocity. 'He put his hands on you. He put his hands on what is mine.'

Whoa there! Hold your horses. What did he just say?

'I'll have you know that I am an independent woman!' I told him, tapping on his chest. 'I belong to nobody but myself, and you can't treat me as if I'm a piece of luggage to be guarded and carted around, because–'

He pounced. His lips covered mine once more, and suddenly, I couldn't remember exactly why he couldn't cart me around like a piece of luggage. It must have been a pretty important reason, but...oh...his lips...

Maybe life as a suitcase would be rather interesting. Or maybe I could be a hatbox?

Bad Lilly! Bad! Remember why you did this! Remember who you are.

It wasn't easy. With the way he was devouring my mouth, my soul, my heart, it was difficult to remember I existed at all and hadn't yet died and gone to heaven. But heaven wouldn't be this cold. And St Peter could never make me this angry. Only one man could do that.

Wrenching away from his kiss, I pushed against his chest – to no avail. He was as rock-solid as Mount Ararat, and probably just as difficult to move. Where was a divine flood when you needed one?

'You can't do this,' I told him, my eyes blazing.

'I can do anything I want.'

'Not this. You can order me around during working hours, you can send me to fetch files and paperclips and pens – but you cannot put me under guard and build a wall between me and the rest of the world. I'm free! I go where I wish, when I wish, with whomever I wish!'

His eyes narrowed infinitesimally. 'So you want to spend time with him?'

'That's not the point!'

'Then, pray, explain the point to me, Miss Linton. I confess, I fail to see it so far.'

'The point is,' I told him, my voice suddenly gentle for some reason, 'that if I want to spend time with Captain Carter, I can. If I want to spend time with any other man or woman, I can. If I want to leave and never see you again, I can do that, too.'

I had never seen Mr Rikkard Ambrose flinch before. But he did so now. His whole body jerked as if he had been electrocuted. On either side of my head, his hands, pressed against the thick trunk of the tree, curled into fists.

'No!'

'Yes,' I told him, softly. 'I can leave any time I wish. That's the only way.'

'The only way?'

Raising one hand, I gently cupped his cheek. The muscles underneath were tense as cords of iron, yet the moment my fingers touched him, he began to relax. 'The only way for me to be with you. Let me have freedom. The freedom to choose you.'