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she had to remember that Forgetting could be fatal
    "Anyone could climb up that ivy, just as I did," he went on, leaning closer. His sleeve brushed her arm, and she opened her eyes to stare at him. He did not look at her, though; he studied her mantel and the objects clustered there. A Sevres clock flanked by a shepherd and shepherdess, a pastel portrait of her and her sisters, and a pile of books.
    He ran his fingertips over the leather bindings. "But they might not be after your jewels, either."
    "What would they be after, then?" she whispered.
    "Your papers and letters, Lady Mount Clare. Fugitives. Seditious books."
    Eliza frowned, thinking of Mr. O'Connor in the cellar. "They will find nothing of the sort."
    "Are you quite sure of that?" He plucked a slim volume from the stack of books, turning it over in his hand. "Priestley's An Essay on the First Principles of Government, and the Nature of Political, Civil, and Religious Liberty. Interesting reading indeed for a countess. Where did you get it?"
    She snatched it away from him. "Perhaps you think I should confine myself to romantic novels, like Anna."
    "Not at all. You were never the novel-reading sort, were you, Eliza?" He reached out to trace the line of a dark curl that lay against her neck, twining it around his finger to gently tug her closer. "It was what I always liked about you."
    She stared up at him warily, poised to break away. "What was that?"
    "Your intelligence. Your independence. That wondrous, fiery spirit. You believed in things, really believed in them to the core of your heart I had never known anyone like that" His fist closed on her curl, holding it fast holding her trapped against him. "I don't think that has changed, countess or not"
    "It hasn't changed," Eliza said, staring up at him. His eyes were so dark in the encroaching night; she could not read them at all. "I do not abandon what I care about"
    "And do you still care about me? Just a little?"
    God help her, but she did. This handsome, hard-faced stranger, all entangled with her memories of her sweet Will. Here, now, when he did not wear his hated red uniform, she could almost forget what lay just outside their fire lit circle.
    But maybe, just maybe, the two could be separate worlds, just for a moment They could be Eliza and Will, not Lady Mount Clare and Major Dentoa
    She reached up and caught his hand in hers. His skin was rough, but it could not disguise the elegance of his long fingers. She kissed them, one after the other, before pressing them to her heartbeat
    His gaze grew hooded and intent as he stared down at her. She just smiled at him.
    "I don't really know you, Will," she said. "Not really, not anymore. Too much has happened. And yet... yes, there is some connection still, I confess. Do you feel it, too?" .
    Surely he could. Her heart was pounding, a thunder beat in her ears loud enough to drown out all else. To drown out any fears or misgivings, as long as they touched each other.
    "Yes," he said hoarsely.
    Eliza held her breath as his fingers traced that heartbeat the swell of her breast through the thin silk dressing gown. The soft fabric rubbed against her nipple, a delicious friction as he circled it with his fingertip.
    His other hand grasped her waist drawing her up against him until there was not even a breath between them. Their bodies were pressed together, hard angles against soft curves, fitting perfectly as if they were made to be just so. She felt the hard, heavy press of his erection against her belly, and it made her dizzy. As if she were falling, felling into him, where she would vanish completely.
    His lips covered hers, open, hungry, and Eliza clutched at his shoulders to keep from falling.
    His tongue touched hers, and she tasted wine, mint— and that sweetness that was only Will, like the darkest, richest, rarest chocolate. Oh yes, she remembered the taste of him well. But their younger selves had never kissed like this. There was nothing tentative, careful,