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When he stepped back only an inch or two, she said, “Thank you for understanding that I need to do this on my own.”
He brushed his lips across her forehead. “Of course you do. I should have seen that without you telling me.”
Then she climbed into the car and let it carry her away from him.
God, how she loved that man. Turning in the seat, she looked back at him, still standing in the drive long after Fernsby had gone inside.
She’d wasted the morning being angry with him for not saying the words she wanted to hear. They could have made love again.
But she knew he loved her. He understood what she needed, and he accepted it. If he didn’t love her, he could never have let her go. Dane liked to be in control. He was always smack in the middle of everything. He was a decision-maker.
It must be killing him to let her make this tremendous decision without him.
It was another of the many reasons she knew he loved her, knew it straight through to her heart and deep into her soul.
As the car turned the corner on the long, long drive, Dane disappeared behind a hedgerow, and the manor house vanished from view.
She needed to complete this deal. She didn’t have to prove herself to Dane. She had to prove it to herself. He’d mentioned once that he’d held her back, but she was the one who’d held herself back.
Not anymore. This deal was hers.
Then she’d return and persuade Dane to admit he loved her, that he couldn’t live without her.
Exactly the way she felt about him.
Chapter Twenty-Four
With that tender kiss, he let her go. He’d played it cool, hadn’t pushed. He understood why she had to do it. But he couldn’t help the fear. What if she didn’t come back? Or what if she did, and they had to start over again from the beginning? What if she didn’t quit, but wanted the rules reinstated? Or even added new ones to the list?
Dane had barely closed the front door behind him when Fernsby attacked.
Though with Fernsby, the word attack was relative. He was his usual severe self—gone was the impish man who’d waltzed around the library—and a light burned in his silver-gray eyes that turned them to ice.
“Sir,” he said with a hard edge like a slap, “it’s obvious you have FUBARed the entire operation.”
If Dane hadn’t been so miserable, he would have laughed at Fernsby’s use of the WW2 acronym. But it was true. Dane had effed up beyond all recognition. Though he wasn’t sure exactly what he should have done.
Fernsby was on a roll. “I did my part.” He waved his hands in the air. “No details, sir, but you clearly did something wrong. Because the two of you are not together.” He enunciated each word sharply. “And I’m not talking about the fact that she’s off to do this amazing new job, which we both know she was meant to do. And at which she will excel.” If possible, Fernsby grew even taller, until he was almost Dane’s height. “I saw the two of you before I entered the library. It was obvious.”
It was obvious even to Dane. “I told her I wanted us to be together.” The flagstone floor beneath his feet suddenly felt incredibly hard. And cold.
Fernsby eyed him critically. “Did you get down on one knee and tell her she is the perfect woman for you?” When Dane shook his head, he went on, “Did you tell her she is the most important person in your life?”
He said very quietly, “No.”
Fernsby spoke without raising his voice. His frustration was all in his clenched fists. “Did you tell her you love her?” The words were said in capitals and underlined five times. “Or did you just tell her you wanted to have sex with her?” More capitalized words, with extra-extra underlines.
Dane fought back. “I certainly did not tell her all I wanted from her was sex.”
Fernsby’s wrinkled brow and glowering gaze said, What the hell did you say, you imbecile? But he only asked, “Do you love her, sir?”
There was only one answer. “Yes, I do.”
“Do you love her with every cell in your body?”
The answer was simple. Just repeat. “Yes, I do.”
Fernsby exhaled like a fire-breathing dragon. “Then why can’t you tell her, man?” Not sir, not Mr. Harrington. Not Lord Bradford. Not even Lord Braindead.
Dane had no choice but to admit the truth. “Because I don’t want to push her so hard she runs away.”
Fernsby’s head jerked slightly, like an automaton who suddenly understood its programming. “Haven’t you figured out that not telling her how you feel is the exact thing that will drive her away?” His lips flattened into a grimace as he added, “Sir.”
“But in my experience—” Dane stopped, not only because of Fernsby’s flesh-flaying glare.
