Page 48 of How To Tempt A Bodyguard

"Matthew—"

"Not only did you not fully disclose information I needed to keep us safe, you let me touch you knowing you might marry him."

"I let you touch me because I wanted a man of my choice." Her voice rose, cracking at the edges. "Because I wanted to belong to someone other than Carrick." She pressed her fingers to her temples.

"And I was conveniently there." Matthew’s voice was rough, quiet.

"No. We’ve never met before, but I’d known you, heard Sylvia talk about you with affection for six years. I knew you were honourable and loyal. That’s why I wanted you in my bed in case I had to marry… him."

Matthew turned away from her. His blood was pounding in his ears. He wanted to hit something. Wanted to put his fist through the wall, through Carrick's face, through the unfairness of all of it.

She'd chosen him. Knowing it might end. She thought nothing about how he might feel.

And he'd let himself… feel.

That was the worst part. Not just lust, not just want. Something deeper. Something dangerous.

Silence engulfed them once more, even the faint voices from outside fading.

"Matthew." Her voice was soft now. Careful. "If we get to Edinburgh in time, if we get the evidence to the magistrate, it doesn't matter. Carrick goes to prison. The girls go free. The ultimatum dies."

She stepped towards him. He could feel her closeness like heat on his skin.

He chuckled bitterly at the role reversal. She hadn’t considered the possibility of involving her feelings in their transaction, in this little game she’d been playing. She’d expected to walk away from him when this mission was over. And marry another man.

"What do you want from me, Florence?" His voice was rough. "Beyond protection. Beyond getting you to Scotland."

Silence.

She blinked. "I don't understand."

"This morning. Last night." He stepped closer, and she held her ground. "You let me touch you knowing you might belong to another man in seventeen days. So I'm asking, what did you want from me?"

He watched her throat work as she swallowed hard.

"I've never had the option of a future," she said finally. "Not the way other women do."

She moved towards the window, her back to him. "Ten years of trusting no one. Ten years of watching men use women like currency. The decent ones are rare. The ones who aren't cowards usually want something in return."

She pressed her palm against the glass.

"You were different. Sylvia spoke of you like family. I read what you did in Liverpool seven years ago, what you risked." Her voice dropped. "I knew who you were before I ever saw your face."

"So I was approved for a night of passion?"

"You were deemed worthy." She turned to face him. Her eyes were bright. Wet. "All I wanted was to feel like a woman for once. Not a pawn. Not a strategic move. Just... wanted. For myself."

The words sank into him somewhere deep.

His anger loosened at the awareness that she hadn't been playing a game. She'd been drowning, and he'd been chosen to be her anchor. No matter how brief.

"You should have told me about Carrick," he said. But the anger had bled out of his voice. "About what walking into Scotland means for me."

"You are right. I am sorry." She wiped her eyes with an impatient hand. "And I know I should send you back to London where you'd be safe. I know what Carrick will do if he finds you."

She crossed the space between them. Close enough to touch.

"But I can't let you go." Her voice cracked. "God help me, I can't. I've been alone for so long, and you're the first person who's made me feel like I could…"