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  The sob escaped at last. She crumpled in Mark’s arms. He caught her and held her close as she wept.

  “Oh, my darling,” he murmured and kissed the side of her head.

  He had barely rested his cheek against hers when she yanked out of his grasp.

  “No, no, I am not your darling,” she said. She wiped her hands across her face in a graceless gesture and sniffed. “I’m not anyone’s darling. I never will be now. The only adoration I will ever receive is on the stage from men who see what they want to see.”

  “Do you think I see what I want to see?” he asked, arms open, expression vivid with emotion.

  She blinked, swallowed. He had only ever made her feel as though he knew who she really was. But of course, he did. Amelia had told him.

  No, it was more than that. He knew who she was beneath the pain, beyond the tragedy.

  “You must be seeing what you want to see.” She walked away, heading to the bureau to find a handkerchief. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be here. You would leave me to my fate.”

  “What fate is that?”

  She wrenched open the top drawer of the bureau, anger working its way into her misery, and found a clean handkerchief.

  “To be alone,” she said. She blew her nose and wiped her eyes. “To never have what Amelia has, the wonderful husband, the beautiful children. My mother took that from me out of wicked selfishness, and I’ll never—”

  His arms closed around her from behind. She gasped, no idea he had crossed the room to her. She twisted to face him, to get away. He had her trapped tight against the bureau, unable to wriggle free. And then he did the most incomprehensible thing she could have imagined. He kissed her.

  It was not a simple, comforting kiss. His mouth was hot and open against hers, giving as much as he took. His arms pulled her stomach flush against his and his hands splayed across her back. Everything about him—about his ardor and his insistence—was pure masculinity, yet at the same time, it wasn’t predatory or salacious like the men she had been with before. Yes, she could feel how deeply Mark wanted her, could feel the tell-tale press of his arousal against her hips through the fabric of her skirt, but it wasn’t seedy. He wanted her.

  “We shouldn’t,” Eve whispered, her lips moving against his. She tried to push him away, but her arms circled around his broad back instead.

  “No, we shouldn’t,” he echoed.

  He kissed her again, leaning into her so that her backside wedged against the bureau. The sudden tempting image of him thrusting into her as she sat splayed across the top of the bureau assailed her. It was wrong in every way, and so right. She went weak with longing, giving in to the force of his kiss.

  “Marry me, Eve.”

  She gasped, pushing him away as best she could with his arms around her.

  “What?”

  “Marry me. You’ll never be alone again. I will never let you be alone again.”

  Her mouth hung open in shock. Her thoughts scattered to the winds and her emotions crashed into confusion. His hands holding her sides—holding her close to him—didn’t help her think at all.

  “No. No, I can’t,” she said. “I’m a prostitute and an actress. I can’t have children. I’ve made my only family hate me.”

  Mark shook his head, fire in his eyes. “She doesn’t hate you and I don’t care about the rest of it. One week, Eve. One week and now I can’t imagine my life without you. I love you.”

  Her heart melted and shattered at the same time.

  “You’re a pastor,” she protested. “You’re good and moral and spiritual. The people of Cold Springs would never accept someone like me as your wife. Never!”

  “I have as much of a right to love who I want as they do,” he said. “Each one of them is as human as you are, some of them more so. God does not create us to be perfect, passionless statues. I am a man, regardless of my job, and I love you.”

  He kissed her again before she could protest. The wonder of it had her breathing in shallow gasps, her heart thundering against her ribs. Mark was a man. He was hot like a man and smelled of salty skin and winter wind like a man. She wanted him more than any man she’d ever known. His mouth exploring hers and his body ready for her was more than she could fight against. She was too exhausted from holding her head above water to resist for another moment. Her heart made its decision and she pressed into him.

  He must have felt her give in. He backed away from the bureau, taking her with him. Between kisses he reached up her back to undo the row of buttons that she’d worked so hard to fasten earlier. They came apart easily for him. Without letting herself think, she shrugged out of her bodice as he undid the fastenings at her waist and let her dress and petticoat fall together to the floor.

  It was madness, but she was beyond caring. She pushed Mark’s jacket off his shoulders and tugged his shirt out of the waist of his pants. It had been years since she’d undressed a man, but she still knew the most effective way to do it. He attempted to unhook her corset as she pushed his suspenders off his shoulders and lifted his shirt over his head. In the end he gave up and let her undress him and then herself.

  He moved to yank the covers on the bed down as she tossed her chemise and drawers aside. They met in the middle of the bed, between cool sheets that smelled faintly of roses.

  “I really do love you,” he said in a rough voice, pulling her into his arms. “I need you to know that.”

  His naked body was everything she had imagined it would be and she hummed low in her throat as her skin slid against his. She ran her hand up the firm muscle of his side, down across his back to hold his backside. He let out a breath of appreciation and strained toward her to kiss her.

  He didn’t have much experience. Eve knew that in an instant. His kiss set her on fire, but his hand shook as he sought out her breast. He circled it, squeezing, but beyond that she had no sense that he knew what to do with it. His thumb grazed across her nipple, raising it to a hard nub.

  “Yes, that’s good,” she whispered encouragement.

  He nodded, breath ragged. His hand left her breast to trace the lines of her torso. His fingertips trailing across her stomach sent giddy shivers through her. Perhaps he did know what he was doing after all.

  She relaxed, rolling to her back. He shifted to rest half on top of her, his hand continuing its explorations under the covers. She smiled as he dipped close and kissed her cheek, nibbled his way to her neck. His respectful hesitance sent her pulse soaring. In all her years of shame, nothing had ever felt this glorious. She didn’t have to pretend that she liked the way he touched her, she adored it.

  When his fingertips brushed the long line of her scar, she caught her breath. He paused. A whole new kind of prickle raced through her.

  “Can I see it?” he asked softly.

  Pain that she had grown all too familiar with gripped her. Her heart still beat a mile a minute, but with anguish as well as desire. Through it all, she nodded.

  With infinite care, Mark drew the bedcovers down to expose her body. The swish of the fabric and cool of the air against her heated skin raised gooseflesh. She focused on what he revealed of himself—a firm, defined chest with just enough light hair, flat stomach and toned abdomen, everything below still hidden—to battle the urge to hide from his eyes. At least he had the good sense to stare at her breasts first. He circled a hand around one, sparking her longing to go on with what they had set aside for the moment.

  Then his hand drifted down to the long, ugly scar that cut across her abdomen. He traced the puckered line from one hip to the other.

  “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

  Tears caught behind her eyes. “It’s not your—”

  She stopped herself, took a breath.

  “So am I.” A tear escaped and rolled down the side of her cheek. “I would have so loved to bear your children.”

  He smiled, a sad smile full of regret, but also bursting with affection. “Marry me,” he said, spreading his hand across the pl
ain of her scar, “Marry me anyhow.”

  Eve tried and tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it was lodged tight. This man, this perfect man who held her so close, wanted her regardless of how broken she was. She didn’t know what to say. No words, impulsive or rehearsed, came to her lips. All she could do was nod. Now she was the one trembling.

  He let out a breath and surged against her, kissing her with more love than she had ever dared to hope she would feel. She gave in to him freely, relaxing for what felt like the first time in her life. His lips parted hers and his tongue slid against hers. Every bit of it was perfect and pure. She raised a hand and threaded her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck. Eyes closed, she said a prayer of thanks to the loving, forgiving God Mark must have served.

  His hand moved lower from her scar. He sucked in a breath as his fingers explored between her thighs. She let her hips loosen, let him discover what was his and only his, now and forever. He rested his forehead against hers as he tested the wet folds of her womanhood. His tentative touch sent spears of heat through her. When he grazed across her clitoris, she gasped.

  “Is that good?” he asked, so raw and vulnerable that her heart filled with light.

  “Very good.” A long-forgotten emotion beat from her heart through her entire body: happiness.

  “I don’t really know what I’m—”

  “Shh.” She cut off his confession with a kiss. “I don’t care, not at all. I love you.”

  A sound somewhere between a laugh and a moan of pleasure bubbled up from him. It reverberated through her, filling her rediscovered happiness to the brink. He shifted atop her, and she spread her legs to let him in. She was letting him in to more than just her body. He’d already snuggled his way into her heart, and now her very soul longed to be one with his.

  He hesitated only slightly as he aligned his body with hers. As he pushed into her, he let out a sigh that set her whole body on fire. It was raw and pure, blatantly sexual. The sensation of him filling her—harder and so much more delicious than she remembered the act being—had her writhing for more. More than more. She wanted a lifetime of this.

  He moved unsteadily at first, a few quick thrusts slowing to a handful of awkward, halting ones.

  “I feel like I’m about to come undone,” he confessed with a husky laugh, “and that’s the last thing I want to do.”

  She laughed with him, circling her arms and legs around him. “It’s all right. I don’t mind. Whatever you want. There’s always tomorrow.”

  He hummed low in his throat and kissed her, lips mating with hers. He ventured a few more thrusts, growling with frustration. That frustration dissolved into more laughter.

  “It’s like holding back a stampede,” he said, shaking his head against the pillow by her side. “I want it to last forever, but I just want to….”

  He trailed off, letting his hips finish what he couldn’t say. They jerked against hers, sliding him in and out of her with quick, desperate strokes. Eve could tell he wanted to let go, give in.

  “Don’t hold back,” she hummed.

  She lowered a hand to caress his backside, urging him on. He groaned and thrust harder, faster. She caught her breath as she felt him let go. Suddenly his hesitance was gone and his body moved on instinct. He plundered her, deep and unfettered, and her heart soared. This was what passion should be. Her heart joined with her body, rippling with pleasure because she loved him.

  She sighed as her orgasm took her by surprise and held Mark tight. He broke a moment later, crying out as his desire peaked. The feeling of a man spending himself inside of her not because he had paid for it, but because he had given his heart to her was heaven itself, joy itself. Even the weight of Mark’s body as every muscle that had been tensed moments before loosened was brilliant.

  They sprawled on the bed together, too stunned and contented to move. It didn’t even dawn on Eve to feel shame or regret for what they had done, for everything she had done before. She felt lighter than air. She was filled with hope and confidence. She could take on the world.

  She was indomitable after all, because she was loved.

  Chapter Seven

  Mark lay in bed—Eve’s bed—with his eyes closed as the cold December sun peeked around the edges of the curtains. Eve was tucked beside him, deep in sleep. The soft curves of her body fit so well against him that he was certain they had been created for each other. The thought made him smile and stroke his fingers over her arm as it draped across his chest.

  He checked himself, looking for regret, shame, a sense that he had committed an unforgivable sin. The faintest hint of contrition, knowing that he should have waited until after they were married to bed her, hovered at the back of his mind. It wasn’t strong enough for him to regret a minute of the night before, but he vowed wouldn’t be with her this way again until after they were married. Still, in that bittersweet, heartbreaking moment of revelation last night, he knew he had done the right thing by sharing himself with her. God would forgive him.

  A knock sounded at the door. It was subtle, but Mark tensed all the same. God would forgive him, but plenty of others would not. He held his breath, hoping he was imagining things. The knock came again.

  “Eve? Eve, are you awake?” Amelia’s voice called from the hall.

  Mark opened his eyes and twisted to look at Eve. She was still deep in sleep, her head on the pillow. She had been exhausted after they’d made love, and had fallen quickly into dreams. He’d had the impression then and now that it had been a long time since she had slept well. All the more reason to hold her tight.

  Amelia knocked again, louder. “Eve? Please let me in. I’m… I’m sorry for last night. This awkwardness between us has gone on long enough. We need to talk. ”

  It was exactly what he had hoped to hear one of the sisters say to the other, coming at exactly the wrong time.

  Mark shifted slowly away from Eve, making sure she stayed asleep as he extracted himself from her arms. He stood, hovering over her. She was beautiful, as innocent as an angel in spite of her hard life. He settled the covers around her chin and turned away to search for something to cover himself with.

  “I made Eric drive me all the way out here at the crack of dawn,” Amelia went on from the hall, a weak laugh in her voice. “He’s spitting mad now, although I think a hotel breakfast is cheering him up.”

  Mark smiled at the image in spite of his growing nervousness as he searched a small linen closet. It was mostly empty. He moved on and thanked his lucky stars when he opened the wardrobe and found a robe. He grabbed it off of its hook and threw it around his shoulders, tying the belt around his waist. It was made of silk and it didn’t fit, but it wasn’t until he reached for the door that it registered in his mind it was Eve’s robe.

  “Eric and I had a long talk after you left last night,” Amelia continued in the hall as he gathered enough courage to own up to what he and Eve had done. “I’m sorry for the way things have been. It’s just that I expected you to be happy to see me. I expected we would pick up where we left off. I should have realized we would both change. Eric thinks that—”

  Mark unlocked and opened the door.

  Amelia’s mouth hung open in mid-sentence. It stayed open as her mind caught up to what she was seeing. She scanned him from head to toe and her eyes went wide.

  “Rev. Andrews!” she gasped, pressing a hand to her heart.

  “Amelia.” He spoke quietly in the hope that they wouldn’t wake Eve, in the hope that a little calm would keep Amelia from flying off the handle like her eyes said she was about to. The color was rising on her cheeks. “Come in.”

  Amelia wavered on her spot. Mark held the door a little wider, checking to be sure the hall was empty. At last, Amelia snapped her mouth shut and charged into the room.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked. Judging from the growing fury in her voice, she knew.

  “Eve was upset last night.” He attempted to keep the tone of the conversati
on as soft as possible. “I stayed to comfort her.”

  “Comfort her?”

  Eve stirred. The sight of her stretching under the bedcovers—raising one long, slender, and very naked arm in the process—should have been a sensual delight. Instead, the guilt that he hadn’t given any thought to moments before rammed into him full-force. It was made worse when Eve sat up, the covers slipping to reveal her bare shoulders and breasts.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Amelia demanded. She looked from him to Eve, jaw clenched, for answers.

  One blink and Eve was fully awake. She gasped and yanked the bedcovers up to hide her chest.

  “Amelia? What are you doing here?”

  “I came because I was concerned about you.” Amelia crossed her arms over her belly. “I see now I was concerned about the wrong things. I should have known you wouldn’t have any trouble finding a shoulder to cry on, or that you’d do more than cry.”

  Eve yelped.

  “Just a moment,” Mark protested. “I won’t have you accusing your sister of things that aren’t true. I’m here at my own insistence.”

  “It all makes so much sense now,” Amelia continued, pressing her fingers to her temples. “Eve’s determination to stay at the hotel when we offered her a room, the way she’s thrown herself at you.”

  “I did not throw myself at Mark,” Eve said.

  “Mother trained you well, didn’t she?” The chill in Amelia’s voice was palpable.

  The color drained from Eve’s face, leaving her wan and stricken.

  “Everything that happened here was my responsibility,” Mark said, glancing between Amelia and Eve.

  “I’m sure that’s what she would have you think.” Amelia shook her head. “I should have suspected where your morals lay when you fled Mother’s house straight to the stage.”

  “It was the only choice I had after—” Eve snapped her mouth shut.

  “You could have at least found one of the miners or ranch hands to satisfy yourself with,” Amelia raged on before the truth could come out. “You didn’t have to drag our town reverend into your sordid bed. You always were Mother’s favorite, and now I see why!”