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“And he threatened to tell everyone. Which now seems so silly—who would care? But at the time, it was a terrifying proposition. He knew my...” She hesitated, not wanting to reveal her past in this moment, when they were quiet and he was close.
It was only a matter of time before he would know everything. But Adelaide was ever the thief, and now, she looked to steal time.
“My father would have loathed it,” she said. “He would have made certain I never visited that turret again. Jamie said he’d keep my secret if I kissed him.”
Henry sucked in a breath, and her gaze flew to his to find fury in his eyes. “You were fourteen. This would have been, what, eleven years ago?”
She nodded.
“I might have been there. I might have been in Parliament. I might have been walking by at that exact moment. I could have tossed young Jamie right off the damn turret.”
She grinned at that. “That does seem a bit overmuch.”
A growl sounded deep in his chest. “I am not amused, Adelaide.”
“Does it help to know that he was encouraged by a half-dozen boys who were watching from round the corner?”
“It doesnot.” He looked positively furious, and she confessed she rather liked it.
“Does it help to hear that he kissed like a codfish and smelled like pickled herring? Two facts I made sure the wide world heard?”
“Well. I was going to suggest you divulge young Jamie’s current address, but I don’t imagine he was able to escape that particular review for a good amount of time.” He paused. “Still, I intend to take you to that turret and kiss you like you deserve.”
He wouldn’t, but it was a lovely thought. She put a hand to his cheek, testing the roughness of his beard, reveling in the angle of his jaw and the way he inhaled at her touch. “Bridge or no, Your Grace, you are a far more memorable kiss than that one.”
He proved it then, long and lush and delicious, filling her with the feel and taste and breath of him. And when he was done, he pressed soft kisses along her jaw and whisperedbeautifulat her ear, and she couldn’t stop herself from whispering the words that had been turning around and around in her mind, a puzzle she could not solve.
“Why won’t you marry?”
His touch stuttered over the skin of her shoulder, but he did not reply.
She squeezed her eyes closed, grateful that he could not see her in the darkness. “I should not have asked. It is not my business.”
He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Marriage should come with a full heart. Isn’t that what you said?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“I agree. It should come with every bit that is promised. Family and hope and a lifetime of being seen.True love, they call it. I think because it is the most honest a person ever is.” He paused, staring up at the ceiling. “I cannot love like that.”
She wanted to scream in protest. If anyone deserved love, it was this man—noble beyond words. Honest to a fault. Instead, she said softly, “Why not?”
He took a deep breath, and she reveled in the rich, warm sound beneath her ear. “Because, someday, she might discover something about me that she does not care for, and then where would we be? Me, out of my head with love, and her, desperate to be rid of me.”
She understood instantly. “Secrets.”
“I have seen what losing love does to a person. I don’t want it.”
What could it be? What could this remarkable man really be hiding?
His chest rose and fell beneath her ear. “My brother plans to marry a lovely woman, though. Indeed, I would wager they will be married by the week’s end, and well on their way to producing heirs to my title.”
She lifted her head and met his eyes, offering him a soft smile. “You forget that I rarely fail when I set myself a task.”
“Then our race continues,” he said, the words soft, without challenge.
“A race no more—we are down a carriage.”
“And so, you have won. And tomorrow? Will I wake to an empty room, a wrecked carriage, and a missing purse? Do you think Mary will give me work?”
