Page 30 of The Countess Caper

She smiled, stopped herself.

“You have my word,” he added.

She smiled again, and this time it was apologetic, melancholy, defiant. Angel and devil. Pure Tessa. “That’s not good enough, Dartmoor. I am no green girl. I know what a promise means when it is spoken by someone who holds all of the power, all of the time.”

“And what does it mean?”

“Nothing at all.”

His fist clenched. He was already simmering with outrage on her behalf. “You speak from experience.”

She inclined her head, a tiny, fiery queen. “I do.”

“We could sign a contract.”

Her eyes widened. “You would do that?”

“Certainly.”

She looked intrigued, but only for a moment. “But it would never hold up in court. No judge, no solicitor, no bank would recognize it. I would still have no recourse.”

He knew he could not convince her that he would never steal her life from her, her ridiculous house, this defiant version of justice she meant to carve out from the world. If things were different, he would love to watch her at her work. To guard her back. She would not believe that either. Why should she? It was as she said—he held all of the cards.

She did not know how she held his attention all of these years. How he sought her out the few times he bothered to attend an event or how he asked after her whenever he saw Summer. Summer had caught on too quickly. But she knew his past, knew the way Lara had felt. She should not have taken it to be her mission to throw them together. Tessa deserved better.

“What if we had Summer witness and sign as well?”

She looked surprised. “Why?”

“The more people you have in your army, the better. Hell, have the duke sign if you like. No judge would go against the Duke of Tremaine. And if we put the house in trust, no one could touch it.”

Her lower lip trembled slightly when she exhaled. He found himself desperate to kiss it, to suck it into his mouth.

“I… suppose that could work.” He didn’t point out that there weren’t any options likely to protect her better. He didn’t have to. He just waited. Inside he writhed with want and impatience, but he did not let it show. She might not be frightened of his regard for her. But he was. A little bit. It had too many teeth. Too many demands.

She tilted her head. “You’re not angry?”

“On the contrary,” he replied steadily. “I am furious.”

She blinked. “Oh.”

“And you’re still not afraid of me.”

“No.”

Such a simple word, and it meant the world. The entire world.

“Shall I tell you why I am angry?”

She nodded.

“Because someone made you feel this way. Someone betrayed your trust.” He pushed away from the door. “And I want to know who it was.”

She glanced away, glanced back. He advanced on her, not able to stop himself from closing the distance between them. It was too wide, too cold, and soon it would be too real. He would grasp at any beam of sunlight while he could, and he would never, never be the shade that stunted her. “Tell me, Tessa.”

She didn’t back away, but she did have to tilt her chin up to meet his gaze when the tips of his boots brushed her shoes. He could smell the wind on her, the sun, some kind of wildflower that made him want things he had no business wanting. “No.”

He might have growled. He felt it in his chest. “Tessa, I want a name.”