Free Her Master's Touch by Patricia Watters

So
regardless of his motives, she'd get the opal tonight.
    After letting herself into the library, she
lit a lamp and immediately spotted the strongbox on the desk. To
her surprise, it was laying open. Inside she found papers, but the
opal was not there. But as she sorted through the papers, the
penscript of a letter addressed to Damon caught her attention.
Lifting it, she read the name, Lord William Sheffield, Holly Lodge,
Campden Hill, London, England. She stared at the writing. Her
father's writing . Opening the letter, she read her father's
terms for selling land to Damon, then tucked the letter with her
father’s address into her pocket. While searching for more letters
from her father, a yellowed newspaper clipping caught her eye. A
note attached to the clipping, and dated October 17, 1865, read: Well, old chap, I thought you would enjoy reading about the
notorious Lord Carlisle. You have created quite a stir here in
London. I will keep you posted. The signature was
unreadable.
    Unfolding the clipping from the London
Times , dated June 3, 1865, she read: LORD WINSTON CARLISLE
SHOT AND KILLED BY BROTHER. An inquest held by the coroner of
Middlesex in the White Horse Inn at Kensington disclosed today that
Lord Winston Carlisle, Earl of Westwendham, died as a result of
wounds suffered at the hands of his brother, Edmund Damon Carlisle,
who left the scene. Authorities have issued a warrant for his
arrest..."
    Eliza stared at the clipping. Certainly the
man who’d held her in his arms and teased her with his kisses could
not have shot his brother in cold blood and fled. But then, she
knew little about Lord Damon Ravencroft. Or, was it Lord Edmund
Damon Carlisle?
    Heart thrumming, she reread the article. Why
would he do such a thing? How could he do such a thing? Returning
the papers to the box, she left on silent feet, anxious to be away
from this room, away from Damon. But she had not found the opal.
There was only one other place to look. The master study. Another
locked chamber. And she'd go there now.
    ***
    Damon sealed his letter to the Queen,
informing Her Majesty of the existence, and availability, of the Burning of Troy opal. He hadn't planned to sit at his desk
in the middle of the night and compose the missive, but it was
impossible to sleep. A beautiful face kept invading his mind. He
slipped the opal from his pocket and held it in his fingers.
Turning it in the lamplight, the stone blazed with scintillating
flashes, reminding him of the fire in Eliza's eyes after he'd
kissed her. "My friend, I'm a sad sap," he said aloud, because the
opal seemed to be a living, breathing thing, "falling for a woman
who's as aimless as an autumn leaf, as vagrant as the wind, and as
illusive as a dream." The opal, absorbing the heat from his hand,
grew brighter, blazed redder. "So you agree? But what am I to
do?"
    Until Eliza whirled into his life and made
him yearn with a desire he'd never known, Damon hadn't realized how
much he dreaded an existence without her. He wanted her beyond all
reason... wanted to hear her melodious voice, laugh at her quick
wit, taste her sweet lips and feel her warm naked body beneath him.
Her image hovered in his mind by day and haunted his dreams by
night. What he couldn't imagine was letting her slip out of his
life. And that was the crux of it. After the sale of the opal and Shanti Bhavan he'd be returning to England. And he sure as
hell couldn't arrive with a gypsy hoyden for a wife. But for the
time he had left, he'd do everything in his power to have her as
his mistress…
    Hearing footsteps, he turned. And stared in
shocked surprised.
    Elizabeth stood in the doorway. She'd changed
into her black working dress, and wore her loose around her
shoulders. Damon dropped the opal into his coat pocket and waited
for her reason for being there. Struggling to find her voice,
Eliza's mind still visualizing the opal in Damon's coat pocket, she
said, while walking toward him, "I couldn't sleep, my lord.