Elizabeth Thornton by Whisper His Name Page B

“Abbie,” he said softly, “don’t you trust me?”
    “You know I do.”
    “Then tell me what’s troubling you. Tell me why you’re running away. Whatever it is, I’ll protect you. I won’t let anything hurt you. You know that, don’t you?”
    Her heart expanded then seemed to contract. She looked at him, at the lock of dark hair that fell across his brow, at the amber eyes that were studying her intently, atthat firmly molded mouth, and a yearning uncurled in the pit of her stomach and spread out in waves. She was worn out with worry about George and Hugh seemed like a rock that nothing could shatter. She wanted that strength for herself.
    Their eyes met and held, hers wide and fragile, his heavy-lidded. She was dimly aware of other things: lights flickering in wall sconces, a door slamming along the corridor, the muted sound of voices, the beat of her own heart, the rise and fall of his chest.
    She couldn’t seem to focus on any one thing. Her head was buzzing. Her responses were slow. Why was he looking at her like that? “I think I’ve had too much wine,” she said.
    His hand tightened around hers. “Abbie, tell me!”
    She had to fight to hold back the words. But she wasn’t made of stone. She couldn’t resist the appeal in his eyes or the strength he was offering. “Hold me, Hugh,” she whispered. “Just hold me.”
    A door opened and someone stepped into the corridor. “We must talk,” said Hugh, “but not here. Come with me. We’ll talk in my chamber.”
    She felt bereft when he stepped away from her, but it was only for a moment. He took her elbow in a loose clasp and led her along the narrow carpeted hall. When they came to his room, he unlocked the door, took one of the candles from the hall table and ushered her inside. Abbie took a few steps toward the fire that burned low in the grate while Hugh lit several candles around the room. And in those few moments, she began to realize she’d made a terrible mistake. Hugh wanted to question her, and that was the one thing she could not allow.
    He stood in front of her, his eyes searching her face.
    His hands grasped her shoulders. “Now tell me everything,” he said quietly.
    She kept her eyes steady on his. “There’s nothing to tell. Honestly, Hugh.”
    “Abbie—”
    With some vague idea of throwing him off balance then making her escape, she stopped his words with a kiss. But when his mouth sank into hers, she was the one who lost her balance.
    The flavor of wine was on his tongue and she parted her lips to absorb his taste. Pleasure began a slow beat deep in her body. Her skin was hot; her bones were turning to water. It was heady; it was intoxicating. It was too much; it wasn’t nearly enough.
    Hugh gave her what she wanted, needed. His mouth was ravenous on hers; his arms were wrapped around her like bonds of steel. When she was held like this, she felt that nothing could hurt her ever again.
    When he suddenly broke the kiss, she murmured a protest. He gave her a shake to get her attention. “Abbie, you haven’t told me anything yet.”
    “I don’t want to talk.”
    Hugh resisted when she tried to draw his head down. “I won’t—”
    “Kiss me, Hugh.”
    “If we don’t talk now, we’ll talk later.”
    “Later,” she said. “We’ll talk later. Now, kiss me.”
    He kissed her swiftly. “Are you sure, Abbie? Are you sure this is what you want?”
    The question seemed irrelevant. She had never been more sure of anything in her life. One night was all she asked. Tomorrow seemed a long way off.
    “I’m sure.”
    He laughed softly and pulled her to the bed. His hands cupped her face and he brushed his lips lightly over hers.
    “Easy,” he said when she tried to deepen the kiss. There was a smile in his voice. “This is one sphere where I won’t let you hurry me.”
    He shrugged out of his coat, then his waistcoat, his eyes on Abbie all the while. “You’ve turned my life upside down. You know that, don’t