Son of a rogue and a gypsy, Hero Fiennes Tiffin was a notorious rake until a shattering betrayal left him alone and embittered in the Welsh countryside. Desperation drives quiet schoolteacher Josephine Langford to ask Hero Fiennes Tiffin to help sav...
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Passion sated, they lay quietly in each other's arms before the fire. The worst of the storm passed and thunder was only a distant rumble far down the valley. Josephine stroked Hero's head where it rested on her breast. She had never felt happier, or more complete, in her life.
Strange that profane love had healed her spiritual weaknesses. Or perhaps it wasn't strange at all. Feeling unloved by her earthly father, her needy spirit had been unable to accept divine love; she had been hollow inside.
Admitting her love for Hero had opened the gates to her heart. She had always known, in her mind, that her father loved her the best he knew how.
It had been her life's great sorrow that what she needed was different from what he was able to give. Now, finally, she was able to accept her father as he had been, and to love him without resentment.
She felt reborn, alive as never before in her life. By attempting to transform Hero's pain, she had also transformed herself. She wanted to laugh aloud for the sheer joy of it.
She also wondered, without anxiety, what would happen next. The fact that she loved him did not mean that he would ever love her back. Her stroking hand stilled. She would miss him dreadfully when their singular relationship ended. But she would survive, for her heart was finally whole.
The fire was almost dead and a cold draft gusted through the open window. Even Hero was not enough to keep her warm, and she began to shiver. With a soft exhalation, he pushed himself to a sitting position and looked down at her. Though his face was somber and rather distant, the wild anguish was gone.
She opened her mouth to speak, but he touched a finger to her lips, hushing her. After tugging her garments loosely into place, he got to his feet and adjusted his own clothing.
With swift, economical movements, he closed the window and the draperies, turned out the single guttering lamp, and collected his crumpled shirt. Then he knelt and scooped her into his arms and carried her from the library, leaving no trace of what had happened between them.
Her head pillowed drowsily on his shoulder, she was content to let him take her to her room. After laying her on her bed, he stripped off her clothing before tucking her under the covers. Though modesty was foolish after what had just passed between them, she was glad they were in near-total darkness.
She expected him to leave, but to her surprise she heard the sounds of the key turning in the lock and clothing being removed. Then he joined her in the bed and pulled her into his arms. She found that, while she might be modest about being looked at, she was quite shameless about twining her bare body around his.
