Free An Officer but No Gentleman by Bronwyn Scott

from him once she knew. He wouldn’t have to be the one to end the relationship. She would end it for him. Now he was torn. Did honor demand he tell her, or did honor demand he keep his secret and face the end of this relationship like a man?
    “Well, Grahame?” Elowyn prompted gently. “I came. That’s your answer. Now you tell me, what did I come for?”
    A droplet of juice from her meat pie lingered on her lips. Grahame leaned forward, catching her chin between his thumb and forefinger, ready to employ an age-old strategy. “You came for this, because we can’t get enough of each other and we both wanted to know how it was going to end.” He covered her mouth softly with his, his tongue licking the seam of her lips. A kiss could stop a lot of things, in this case, even time.

Chapter Thirteen
    Sex was not an answer, no matter how good it was. But she’d let it be a sufficient substitute last night. As a result, in the light of day, nothing had been resolved. Grahame was still determined it all had to end, just for different reasons than the ones she had supposed. It didn’t help that she didn’t know what those reasons were. This was their last day on the road. They were running out of time. It was small consolation that last night’s revelation had not been a rejection, that his decision to hide his post in Vienna had not been out of a need to break with her. But it made no difference if he still meant to end things.
    Elowyn could not get past that one thought as she folded their blankets and put away their things. The rain had stopped in the night and the morning was bright. It would be a good day for travel. They would make decent time. The thought should have filled her with relief. The day after tomorrow she’d be with her father. She’d be in circumstances more suited to her upbringing. She was the granddaughter of an earl, the daughter of a third son. She did have some station in life—not enough to stifle her, but enough to give her comforts. And all she wanted was Grahame Westmore.
    Last night’s intimacy had sealed it. She could no longer argue the excitement was in the adventure of sex, or the games Westmore could play with her body. Even ordinary sex was riveting, fulfilling, beyond anything she’d imagined because it wasn’t simply sex as it had been with her other lovers. Those interludes were pale shadows against what she shared with Grahame.
    “Are you ready?” Grahame came to collect the valises and blankets to tie on behind the saddles. His hair was tied back, his coat was dry and brushed, but his boots had lost their polish miles ago. Their clothes at least would be glad to see Vienna, even if their owners weren’t. Even Grahame seemed subdued this morning.
    No , you silly ninny. I am not ready. I want to stay in this rickety barn with you forever and make love next to a dying fire. She didn’t dare say it. If she could persuade him to stay it would mean missing his interview. She couldn’t do that to him, so she lied. “Yes, I’ve got everything.”
    Outside, Grahame threw her up on her horse before mounting Aramis. How she loved watching the strength of him in motion as he swung up on the big beast. How many more chances would she have to see him do that? Or to feel his big hand on her leg as he tossed her up? It was going to be a long day if she insisted on that train of thought. Emotionally, she could not afford to spend the day remembering every detail of their time together, or thinking of all the “lasts.” What was she willing to do about it?
    Elowyn let the question occupy her mind during the early miles of the morning. They rode in silence, an awkward quiet springing up between them, proof that she was not the only one grappling with the dilemma. Grahame might have made a decision, but he wasn’t happy with it. She would take encouragement from that.
    “I imagine you will be glad to see the city tomorrow,” Grahame said after the silence between them had grown