Page 45 of The Earl

“’Tis more than improper, as well you know.”

“That matters not. She could have hidden her derision. And so I spoke without thinking, daring her to voice her objections.”

Every bit of anger she’d felt slipped away.

“Do you believe”—Cait hated to even think of it—“that her decision to withdraw public support may have been prompted by it?”

If her decision to come had harmed their cause . . .

“Nay, I do not.”

Though his firm tone alleviated her concern a bit, a small bit of doubt remained.

Conrad had pulled a blanket over them, but Cait’s hands and nose still felt cold. She backed into him a bit more, telling herself it was merely because she was cold. The scent of sandalwood and hint of campfire surrounded her, oddly comforting.

“I did not intend to cause any harm with my presence,” she began. “I simply . . .”

“You simply what, Cait? What did you hope to gain from this?”

That answer, at least, came easily.

“You.”

When he exhaled, Cait closed her eyes. “I never should have stopped writing. I should have welcomed you to Bradon Moor long ago. Or come back to a tournament, back to England.”

His arms tightened around her. “I understand why you did not. I do not like, or agree, with your reasoning. But I can understand it. And you are here now.”

I wasn’t too late. Thank you, God, for giving me another chance.

“You knew a man who thought he had rescued you. Who thought he understood his place as the only heir to a great earl, a son to parents more noble than their titles. You knew a man who believed the world was good despite bad people like the one who attacked you.”

The man Conrad had killed.

“I know that man.” Cait turned her head, needing to see him. “That man is you.”

As she said the words, she realized they were only partially true. Hadn’t she noticed that he’d changed? True, he had the same sauntering gait, the same intense, scrutinizing stare, but the boy she’d known had grown into a man, a man who had been through heartache and sorrow. He’d been betrayed by a woman he’d thought he loved. Had lost both parents and seen his country suffer for the sins of the very person who was supposed to lead them.

“And yet you’ve grown,” she added. “We both have.”

“I may perish in the effort,” he said, kissing her lips so softly Cait did not even have time to close her eyes before he finished. “But we will begin anew.”

Neck straining, Cait laid her head back down, fitting against him as if she had been sleeping there for her entire life.

“We will learn about each other as best we can in the midst of such chaos. And when it is over . . . if you still wish it . . .” Conrad swept her hair away from her neck, kissing the sensitive flesh there. “We will wed.”

She wished for nothing more than that very thing.

“Until that time,” he continued before she could answer, “though I intended otherwise this eve, and very much wish it could be otherwise”—another kiss, this time closer to her ear—“I will ensure when we reunite with Terric I can say honestly that I’ve not behaved improperly toward his sister.”

Kissing her there did not bode well for his promise. But Cait remained silent. She knew Conrad well enough to understand the futility of mounting any kind of argument. He might be more accommodating than most, but he was still an earl, a man accustomed to getting his way.

And Cait had endured—and won—many battles of will with powerful men. Men who were accustomed to having their authority met with deference.

Her father.

Terric.

And sometimes even Rory.

Arguing with his assessment would yield nothing. He wanted them to learn about each other again, as if they had just met?

Very well.

She had stopped writing. Cait had nearly destroyed any chance of them being together. So she would acquiesce. For now. Or appear to, at least.

“A lovely plan,” she murmured, wiggling against him, knowing precisely what the hardness she found there meant. “Then I will say good night, my lord.”

Conrad groaned but held her closer still.

Cait smiled into the night, thinking on his words. Conrad may be able to tell Terric truthfully he had not behaved improperly toward her, but she had never made such a vow.

And she would most certainly not behave properly toward him.