Page 78 of How the Earl Entices

“Does rain fall up?” he countered with a shake of his head. “It’s unnatural, as unnatural as Christopher Carlisle in a vicarage.”

A puzzled frown pulled lightly at her brow. “Then why does he claim so?”

“Petty revenge.” He grimaced. “When Kit learned what I was doing in Paris with Wentworth, he announced that he planned to become a vicar so that I wouldn’t be the only martyr in the family.”

Her hand stilled against his abdomen, and her bright smile faded. “Are you?” Her soft voice thickened with concern. “Martyring yourself?”

“There was a time when I would have said yes. Not so long ago, I was willing to do anything to prove Wentworth’s guilt, including sacrificing myself.”

Her fingers curled into the brocade, as if she were afraid she might lose him right then. “What changed your mind?”

He stared into her eyes. A man could drown in those chocolate depths and never regret his demise. “You.”

She froze for a beat. Then she drew her hand away.

He caught it up before she could pull back and wrapped his fingers around hers. He lifted a brow at her sudden unease. “You went there first, with your talk last night about lost chances.”

“That wasn’t the same thing,” she countered with forced indignation, “and you know it.”

“Then what was it?” He refused to let go of her hand. He wanted her to say it,neededto hear it—that she held an affection for him beyond physical pleasure, beyond worry about his safety and whatever help he could give Ethan.

When she tugged to free herself, his fingers tightened their hold, until she wisely gave up with an aggravated sigh. “You wanted to know why I gave myself to you.” She lowered her voice to a whisper although they were alone. “And I answered you.”

She was dodging the question, but this conversation was too important. So he pressed, “You said I mattered to you.”

“You do.”

He held his breath and pressed, “How much?”

Her eyes flared in surprise that he would dare to ask that. But the last few weeks of having his life constantly at risk made him appreciate the here and now, because he knew first-hand that tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed.

“Ross, what you’re implying…” She shook her head in exasperation. “You’re hinting about a future when we have no idea what fate will bring for us.”

“It’s uncertain, granted.”

“It’sbleak,” she corrected soberly.

“But not hopeless.” Far from it. For the first time since he fled Paris he was optimistic that all would work out in his favor, and he wanted Grace by his side when it did. “I didn’t get the diary last night, but I now know where it is. Wentworth is keeping it in a hidden drawer in a side table in his study. With Kit’s help, I’ll be able to retrieve it.”

“No.” Her face paled, but her fingers tightened around his. As if she were afraid he might leave her right then to go after it. “Wentworth will be waiting for you. I don’t want you to risk your life.”

Her concern warmed his chest. With a tug on her hand, he gently pulled her to her feet and into his arms, then caressed his knuckles across her cheek. “Risking my life is the only way to save it now.” When her eyes darkened with worry, he forced a teasing lightness into his voice to break the tension. “Unless you fancy a life on the run with me.”

“A life of nights crammed into tiny inn rooms sandwiched beneath stairs and days riding on hard carriage seats? I don’t think so.” The smile she gave him wavered, but her false bravado kept it in place, to keep the teasing at the forefront of their conversation and the seriousness pushed below the surface. “But you could come to Sea Haven with me and Ethan and pretend to be my long-lost fisherman husband returned from the sea. No one would notice an earl among the dockworkers.”

He couldn’t find the strength to return her smile. She wanted a future with him as much as he did. She was simply too worried to let herself consider it, and it killed him to be unable to give her the reassurance she needed.

“That is,” she continued, “if you think you could stand the life of a quiet seaside village over the excitement you had in the Court of St James’s.”

He’d had more than enough excitement for one lifetime, thanks to the Court of St James’s. “I think I could.” Then he threw all caution to the wind—“But I’d rather be in London with you by my side as my countess.”

She tensed in his arms.

She’d accused him of hinting about a future together, but this was no hint—despite the teasing behind it, it was a firm offer. The first that he’d dared to voice. The idea shocked him nearly as much as her, but he couldn’t imaginenothaving her with him now. No matter what fate threw their way.

She trembled, her lips parting silently with worry and the fear that seemed to always linger in her. He understood it now, but he refused to let her fall prey to it any longer.

He cupped her face between his hands and gazed deeply into her eyes, making certain there would be no misunderstanding on what he intended for them. “Once my name is cleared, I promise you that—”