So he’d always believed Jeremiah was no more than a playful angel that Lettie had imagined when she was younger and simply continued to talk about when she wanted to gain someone’s attention, usually his.
He sat beside her on the bed and drew her onto his lap, wanting to swallow her up against him and protect her from the harshness of life. She was trembling and quietly sobbing, so he put his arms around her and tried his best to comfort her. “Lettie, I’m so sorry.”
“It isn’t your fault,” she said in a shaky whisper, her hands sliding up to grasp his shoulders and cling to him as though she’d drown if she ever let go.
“You know it is. You wouldn’t be suffering if it weren’t for me.” He stroked her hair, ran his fingers through her thick, silky curls. He splayed his hand across her back, its span reaching from one side to the other because she was little compared to him. Little and tough. Little and perfect.
He glanced up and looked at Frances who had righted the candle and placed it back on Lettie’s night stand. She cast him a look of acceptance, as though she agreed with Lettie that he belonged here beside the girl.The earl’s daughter.
“I’ll ask Cook to make her some hot cocoa. Take care of her, Brynne.” She shook her head and sighed. “You’re the only one who can. She won’t have anyone else. It’s obvious you’ve claimed her heart.”
He said nothing in response, just held the sweet bundle in his arms and wished that he had a right to her heart. But he didn’t.
Frances cast him a mirthless smile, for she knew that whatever Lettie felt about him, he returned the feeling athousand fold. But none of it mattered. Love simply wasn’t enough.
“What a mess, sweetheart,” he murmured against her ear.
“I know.” Lettie’s cheek brushed against his chest as she nodded. “And it’s going to get messier. But I’m ready for it, Brynne. I’m not afraid. I’ll do whatever I must to save you.” She lifted her head to meet his gaze and he saw that she truly was a fighter, a scrappy, little one, and he certainly didn’t wish to go up against her. Napoleon was a little man and tough as nails, too. But not even Napoleon would have been tough enough to defend against a determined Lettie.
After a moment, she seemed to calm and became the Lettie he’d grown to love. Stubborn. Strong willed. Loving and funny. She raised her gaze to his, an impish grin upon her lips. “You’re not wearing a shirt. It’s a good look for you. It suits you quite well, in fact.”
He laughed softly. “I had to bolt out of bed and only paused long enough to toss on my trousers because some daft redhead was screaming her lungs out. Great set of lungs, by the way.”
“And by lungs, I assume you mean my breasts.”
He laughed again, for her chest was still pressed against his and her breaths were still ragged and causing her heart to pound. Her senses were heightened, but so were his and he felt every swell and heave of her breasts as she inhaled and exhaled. “I do.”
“Thank you. I was hoping you’d eventually notice them.”
“Eventually? How about always? They’re incredible and so is your smile.” He stroked her beautiful, long hair, wishing he had the right to caress it and run his fingers through those lush curls each and every night. “But more important, I noticedyou. All of you. The smile you always had for me and the frowns for anyone who ever sought to insult or harm me. Your genuine caring and concern. And then you turned from a caterpillar, all gangly armsand legs and a skinny body, into a radiant butterfly that stole my breath away. I was afraid to lose my heart to you. That’s why I had to leave England.”
“Because of me? I drove you away?” She drew back and stared at him, looking utterly bereft.
“I pushed myself away. You didn’t do anything but be the beautiful Lettie you’ve always been.” He sighed. “You stir my lust, Lettie. It’s hardly under control even now. That’s how depraved I am. You’ve had a terrible scare, and all I can think of is… no, it doesn’t matter. I have no right to say anything.”
“You do, Brynne. More right than anyone else. Please don’t hold back,” she urged, ignoring his reluctance. “Tell me what you were about to say. No secrets between us. I can use a reason to smile. All you can think of is?”
“You,” he said, releasing the breath he had been holding and regretting this moment of honesty between them that would only lead to pain for both of them. “And the fact that you’re only wearing a thin nightgown. I can feel your body against mine, the soft pillows of your breasts against my chest, your small hands on my shoulders, and your nicely roundedderriereupon my lap. It’s a nice body, Lettie.”
“Thank you. So is yours. In fact, yours is quite magnificent, but I’m sure all the women tell you that.” She slowly ran her hand across his chest. “Your skin is lightly bronzed and it feels warm to my touch. I like your big muscles, too.”
He chuckled lightly. “And I like the way your body fits against mine.”
“We do fit well, don’t we?” She shifted in his arms, easing off his lap but still clinging to his shoulders as she rolled onto her knees on the mattress and nudged him slightly so that he faced away from her.
“What are you doing, Lettie?”
“Looking at your wolf.”
That damn thing. At this moment, he wanted to take a cake of lye soap and scrub the birthmark raw, scrub it until he obliterated the entire thing and left nothing but a hole in his skin. “It still signifies nothing.”
She leaned close and pressed her lips to it, the softness of her ripe lips sending a lightning bolt of desire coursing through him. He almost shot off the bed in surprise. “Bloody hell, Lettie,” he cried, turning to her with a scowl. “Why did you do that?”
She didn’t appear in the least intimidated. “Kiss you? Because I wanted to and it felt right, you know it did. Where is the harm in a simple kiss? Why do you resist, even though I know you want to?”
“Who says I do?”
Her gaze turned soft upon him. “Your eyes. Your heart.” She placed a hand over his heart and must have felt its strong, quickening beat. “Will you kiss me, Brynne?”
