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But he stepped away, and for a moment, disappointment stabbed through her before he turned around and wrapped a strong arm about her shoulders, pulling her against his massive chest. “It’s all right, sweetheart. Nothing to worry about. I’ve got you,” he murmured against the top of her head.
“Mister Fitzroy?”
“Ralph,” he whispered into her hair and then half turned, keeping his arm about her as he started for the back entrance. “Let’s get you back to Kinross’s estate.”
She could hardly argue as Wyatt and Priscilla stepped ahead of them, making their way to the back entrance.
Clara tucked herself into his side, allowing him to guide her along until they’d almost reached the door.
Wyatt and Priscilla stepped out, but she hesitated for a moment.
“Clara?” Mr. Fitzroy asked, looking down at her. “What is it?”
Without thinking too much, she lifted up on her tiptoes, her hands resting on his collar. Then she pressed her lips to his cheek, not an inch from the corner of his mouth.
His skin was a touch rough and scratchy in the most pleasing way, his muscles moving under her hands as his other arm came about her waist, drawing her body even closer.
She leaned back a little, looking up into his eyes. “Thank you, Ralph, for helping me today. I am forever in your debt.”
He looked down at her for the briefest moment before his head dropped closer to hers. “You’re welcome.”
And then he pressed his lips to hers. She’d never allowed a man to kiss her before. But as his lips descended over hers, she knew this was precisely where she belonged.
Clara, tucked against him, fit him like a glove. He’d thought it the last time he’d held her and the feeling slammed into him again. She was perfect for him.
Her lips moved under his, sweet and fresh and achingly soft as he kissed her once, then twice, then a third time. He could hold her like this, taking these small sips of her all day long, but Wyatt had stepped outside, and he was alone with Priscilla and those men could circle to the back of the inn at any moment.
That thought, and that one alone, pulled him from Clara’s embrace. He kept her tucked against his side as he made his way out the back door and through the small garden to the gate where Wyatt had stopped with Priscilla.
One of his brother’s brows arched up but he made no comment as he continued out the gate and down a back lane to where the carriages had been left.
They quickly loaded in, Wyatt pulling his wife onto a seat with him.
Which suited Ralph absolutely fine. Hang convention, he all but lifted Clara into the vehicle and settled her on the seat next to him, keeping his arm about her shoulders.
She tucked into him, her cheek pressing against his chest.
“It’s all right,” he softly murmured. “No harm done?”
“No,” she answered with a shaky breath. “I’m fine. Just frightened.”
He pressed her a bit closer, wrapping his other arm about her. “Nothing to fear. I’d never let some ne’er-do-wells do you harm.”
She looked up at him, her green eyes somehow shining in the dim carriage light. “I know you wouldn’t.”
That declaration of trust stole his breath as looked down into her eyes. He wished to kiss her again. He’d like to run his thumb over the plumpness of her bottom lip, trace the curve of her cheek.
What he deserved could go to Hades. Clara was more than he’d ever even wanted, but now that he’d held her in his arms, he couldn’t imagine living without her.
Did she feel the same?
Her hand rested on his chest, her gaze still fixed up to his. Her lips were softly parted, her eyes searching his.
She very well might.
“Mister Fitzroy,” his brother said, clearing his throat. “How did your errands turn out?”
“Unfruitful,” he muttered, not wanting to look away from Clara. He didn’t wish to break the bubble that had formed about them at all. Especially when Wyatt poked at another weak point in his desire to court Clara.
The investigation.
The lies.
His identity.
What would that sort of information do to their budding relationship? Nothing good, he knew that. And it would likely only get worse the longer he waited to tell her.
But how did he broach the subject, and did he break the queen’s confidence? Even worse, what would he do if he lost Clara now?
