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He groaned, a sound that came from deep within his soul. Not even those words would have ever
compensated for what he'd done to bring her to England. He had ruthlessly and methodically destroyed
her reputation. Aye, he was a fine warrior indeed. He'd identified his prey, scrutinized her perimeter, then
systematically destroyed the walls that surrounded her, all with the precision and detachment of a
seasoned mercenary. She might have forgiven him for other things, but she would never forgive him for
that.
How he wanted her to! He looked down at the stone under his fingers, remembering how Genevieve had
leaned against that very stone and poured out the deepest dreams of her soul. And somehow, beyond
reason and beyond hope, he had become a part of those dreams. How he had adored her then! And
how earnestly he had made his vows, vows to make her happy, to see that she lacked for nothing, to do
everything in his power to keep her safe. Useless vows now. She would never accept anything from him,
which meant he had nothing to give her.
Except restitution.
"My lord?"
Kendrick turned a weary look on his steward. "Any word?"
"Nay, my lord. I was hoping Nazir would have followed her and returned with a report."
"Nazir said, and I quote, 'I don't like you very much at present, Master. I think I will shadow the Mistress
for a time.' He won't come back unless she does."
"Do you want her back?"
"Merciful saints above, Worthington, have you gone daft?"
Kendrick bellowed, feeling his anguish coat every word as if with blood. "Of course I want her back!"
"Perhaps it would not be inappropriate for you to search." Kendrick turned a stone-faced expression
toward the sea.
"Don't be cruel, Worthington. It doesn't become you."
"I wasn't suggesting you try to leave the keep, my lord. What is that commercial they have in the
Colonies? Let your fingers do the walking?"
With that, Worthington turned and walked away.
Kendrick clapped his hand to his forehead and cursed himself for his stupidity. Why hadn't he thought of
that? He turned and sprinted toward the battlement door.
"Damn you, Worthington, wait! I can't dial the bloody phone myself!"
Genevieve lugged her shopping bags over to a taxi and gratefully allowed the man to help her. Once her
purchases were settled, she collapsed into the back seat and groaned at her protesting muscles.
Shopping was backbreaking work.
After giving the man a tip that made him grin from ear to ear, she had her purchases sent up, then made
her way to the small tea shop. She'd never been particularly fond of tea back in the States, but she'd
definitely acquired a taste for it in England. The only thing she didn't like was that it relaxed her enough to
allow her to think. Thinking was hardly her favorite activity as it invariably led to remembering and that
led to pain. At least it had initially.
When she'd arrived in London a week ago, she'd been bitter and hurt. Not even spending thousands of
pounds on clothes and jewelry had made her feel any better. As the hours had trudged by, she'd become
first numb, then thoughtful. For the first time, she thought she understood a bit of the pain Kendrick felt.
Hadn't Matilda ruined his life just as he'd ruined hers?
But was her life truly ruined? At least she still had a body and what a precious blessing that was! She
could still travel, see new places, taste foreign foods, smell strange and marvelous fragrances. Kendrick
could do none of those things. Perhaps Kendrick had destroyed her dreams, but hadn't he, in his own
way, restored them? He'd shared his home with her. He had taught her about football. He'd even offered
to fund her business ventures.
But he'd given her more than that. He had made her feel beautiful. He had looked at her with love in his
eyes and offered to be her champion. He had teased her, sung to her, ordered her around arrogantly.
Wasn't that worth a bit of forgiveness?
And after all, he hadn't known her, had he? If he had, he would have known a mere smile would have
brought her to him. It was only out of ignorance that he'd ruined her life. If she were to be completely
honest with herself, she had to admit that he hadn't really done even that. He'd ruined her business, yes,
but not her life. Her life was far fuller now than it ever had been before.
She set her teacup down and pushed it away from her. In a few more days, she would go home and if he
wanted her to sign the papers, she would. If not, she would hug him as best she could and tell him just
how much she loved him.
She made her way up to her suite. It was a beautiful room. She'd have to take the brochure with her so
Kendrick could see. He'd be surprised at what a change it was from the inn where the bawdy wench had
swiped Royce's mail.
The phone rang.
Genevieve looked at it, knowing without even picking it up who was on the other end of the line. She
wiped her hands on her jeans and took a deep breath. There was no reason to be nervous. It was just
Kendrick. She'd talked to him before. She could handle this. Except that she felt as if she were on the
verge of something very momentous. She walked over to the bedside table and looked down at the
phone.
It continued to ring.
She reached out and snatched up the receiver.
"Hello?" she said breathlessly.
"Do you have any idea how many bloody hotels, inns, youth hostels, boardinghouses and rooms for let
there are between Seakirk and London?"
She sank down on her bed, her knees not up to the job of keeping her standing.
"I don't, but I have the feeling you do."
"Genevieve, I hardly know "
"Kendrick, there's no need "
"Please," he said, hoarsely, "let me finish. What I did to you was unforgivable. I wouldn't blame you if you
never wanted to see me again. If I could leave Seakirk, I'd give it to you and never darken your door
again."
"Kendrick, really "
"I'll buy you whatever you need to start over again. Pick a city, find a house and all the trappings and I'll
see that it's yours. I'll spread your reputation far and wide as the most marvelous of restoration experts.
You'll have so much business, you'll need a garrison of assistants to help you. I think New York might be
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