Page 51 of How the Earl Entices

She nodded, not at all liking this turn of conversation.

“We’ll keep it loaded at all times while we’re here.” He tucked it into the middle drawer of the worktable, his eyes not leaving hers. “You’ll have to use it if anyone comes after you. Can you do that?”

A chill bit at the base of her spine. “Is that really necessary?”

The two men exchanged grim looks. Then Ross said quietly, “It might very well be, if Wentworth discovers we’re here before the British do.”

“Before wego to the palace, you mean,” she corrected, her faith in him undeterred.

His eyes softened at that, and warmth filled her chest. “It’s only a precaution.” He lowered his voice, and the husky timbre tightened all the tiny muscles in her belly. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Grace. I promise you that.”

She nodded, unable to speak past the knot in her throat. It had been years since she’d had a man’s protection. For once, the night ahead didn’t feel quite so lonely or frightening.

“You’re set, then. I’ll leave you to your plans.” With a parting incline of his head toward Grace, Ellsworth sauntered toward the door. “By the way, the neighbors are used to all kinds of characters coming and going from here, although it would ease their suspicions if you’d speak in Italian.”

Then he slipped through the wicket and out into the dark alley. Ross locked it after him.

Grace blinked. “What on earth did he mean by that?”

“When it comes to Ellsworth,” he cautioned as he took the papers out of their hiding spot at the small of his back, then knelt down to feel at the floorboards beside the center post, “best not to ask too many questions.”

He found a loose board and lifted it, hiding the papers beneath. Then he took the lamp down from its nail and held out his hand to her.

She took it and followed behind as he led her up the stairs. “And the same with you? Don’t ask too many questions?”

He paused in mid-step to look down at her, his midnight blue eyes nearly black as he searched her face in the dim lamplight. “You can ask me whatever you’d like.”

Perhaps. But she also knew that there was no guarantee he’d answer.

Chapter 15

“Good God,” Ross muttered to himself. “I look terrible.”

Grace caught her breath as she emerged from her bedroom and found Ross peering at himself in the mirror above the men’s dressing stand in his room, bare from the waist up in the morning sunlight. While he might have grown comfortable enough around her to think nothing of wearing only a pair of breeches, she doubted she would ever grow used to seeing him like this. Despite all his wounds, with his broad back, muscular shoulders, and hard ridges of his abdomen so casually on display,terriblewasn’t the word she’d used to describe the view.

When he caught her staring, she quirked up her brow and prayed her face didn’t flush, revealing her true thoughts. “Ghastly.”

“And you look…” He slid an appraising gaze over her reflection, taking in the night rail she still wore. “Tempting.”

His deep voice vibrated down her spine, making her breasts feel suddenly heavy and sparking a faint throbbing between her thighs. She’d felt a wave of relief last night to discover that they had separate rooms and that she wouldn’t have to fend off any nighttime flirtations, not realizing how much more seductive this devil could be in daylight. Or how much weaker her own resolve had become.

“You are mistaken,” she countered in enough of an icy rebuke to keep him at a distance.

But not enough, apparently, to keep a wicked, knowing grin from his face. Or a blush from hers.

Yet he gave her a reprieve by looking back at his own reflection. He turned his head left and right to examine his face, especially the faded bruises and cut to his brow that had now healed almost completely. Then he scrubbed a hand over the growth of beard. “They won’t recognize me at the palace looking like this.”

She stiffened at that stark reminder of his situation. In quieter moments, when he was smiling at her or they were sharing parts of their lives, she forgot the danger hanging over them, only for it to come crashing back without warning. “When do you plan to go there?”

“Have to talk to Christopher first.” He poured a splash of water into the shaving mug and began to whip up the soap with the brush. Tossing a hand towel over his shoulder, he lathered up his cheeks until most of his face was hidden beneath the foam, then mumbled at his reflection, “Well, that’s a decided improvement.”

Grace couldn’t help but smile. Or keep from shamelessly watching him, mesmerized by the sight of a man performing his morning ablutions. It had been so very long since she’d experienced this private moment, and her chest warmed at its quiet intimacy. She knew the ache of long, lonely nights and had been surprised at how easily she’d grown used to having Ross with her in the darkness, how much she’d grown to depend upon his protection, even last night when they’d been in separate rooms. But she’d forgotten how sweet mornings with a man could be. Her chest ached with an unbidden longing to have more than only this morning’s brief glimpse into his private life.

And not just as a lover. If it were only physical intimacy she craved, that could easily be satisfied. With the way he’d looked at her this morning, like a starving man who wanted to devour her, all it would take would be a whisper of permission, and she’d be in his arms, ending a decade of longing and loneliness.

But God help her, that wouldn’t be enough. She wanted more.

Somewhere along the road from Sea Haven, she’d come to care for him, in a way she hadn’t cared for any man since before David died. She wasn’t foolish enough to think he felt the same, but when he looked at her with such desire, she could almost dare to hope…