Lettie gasped.
Brynne was frowning.
She reached over and took his hand, but her thoughts were on her guardian angel.Please, Jeremiah! Is this why you had us save Max? I’m sorry that I called you cowardly.
“Who, my lord?” Lettie said, stepping in when Brynne said nothing. What was he thinking?
“Ours is a proud family, directly descended from Atticus de Wolfe, the famed Lion of the North. He was a brave and ferocious fighter, fiercely loyal to his family. We’ve always been a close and loving family, which was why… Brynne, let me sit and chat with you a while.”
He sank into the chair that Lettie had earlier vacated. “Lady Letitia, would you allow me a moment alone with him?”
No! She thought her heart would burst from the anticipation. She turned to Brynne, expecting that he would agree and request that she leave so that they could speak in private. Why did men have to be so secretive? Honestly, secrecy was overrated. But this was such an important moment that if Brynne wanted her to leave, she would swallow her disappointment and do as he asked. Sighing in resignation, she bent to kiss him on the cheek. “I love you.”
He grinned at her, somehow managing to look innocent and seductive at the same time. “You’re going to put your ear to the keyhole, aren’t you?”
She shot him an indignant look, but the blush now creeping up her cheeks gave away her plan. So what if she was?
Brynne shook his head and chuckled. “Then I suppose I may as well ask you to stay.”
“I can stay?” Her mouth gaped open in surprise.
He reached out and tucked a finger under her chin to close it. “Yes, Lettie.” Then he turned serious. “You brought me here, gave me this chance. You belong here as much as I do.”
He took her hand in his and nudged her to sit beside him. She hadn’t minded at all while they were alone and he was on the verge of death, but now that he was recovered and his muscles were on sinful display, she suddenly felt awkward. “You have no clothes on.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Youremoved them.”
She began to sputter. “Yes, I don’t deny it. But it had to be done to save your life. I had no choice. It isn’t at all the same thing.”
She turned to the old earl who seemed to be enjoying her embarrassment. “I had to rip them off…” No, that sounded even worse. “Because the big oaf was going into shock.” That much was true. The fact that she had taken exceptional delight in running her hands over his big, handsome body was of no moment and merely a happy coincidence.
In any event, Brynne now had the covers securely drawn to his waist, and even though his chest was shockingly bare, who was to know that she’d been in here and seen him in this compromising position other than the earl, his son, and a few servants? The de Wolfe family was not about to let word slip out. “My lord, you had something important to tell Brynne.”
The earl turned to Brynne as though questioning his decision to allow her to stay, but Brynne simply squeezed her hand in assurance. “She saved me and little Max,” he said with unmistakable gratitude and affection. “Lettie belongs by my side.”
“Forever?” she asked. Well, she had to ask, for she wasn’t likely to find him so compliant again.
Instead of responding, he turned to the earl. “Will you please tell me who I am?”
Chapter Eight
The cold thathad ravaged Brynne’s body now turned to the heat of excitement, but it was also mingled with dread. What would the earl tell him? At first, Brynne had wanted Lettie to leave the room as the earl suggested, for he wasn’t certain how he would respond to the news whether ultimately good or bad. He expected to be battered and shaken like a ship tossed about on a violent sea.
But whatever the upheaval, there was only one person he trusted to see him through this difficult storm and that was Lettie. Being her irrepressible self, she would take it upon herself to heal any damage to his heart, just as she always had. He wasn’t certain that anyone could ever fully heal the damage of all these lost years, but if anyone could, it was Lettie.
He glanced at her and saw that her throat appeared constricted and tears were already welling in her eyes. She looked like a kitten about to cry, rousing his protective instincts once again. He never liked to see her overset, but at the same time, he knew it was because she cared about him, worried about him as no one ever had.
He squeezed her hand once more to reassure her.
Brynne had yet to hear a word and he already felt overwhelmed, his heart pounding through his chest. Grief, fear, and terror thrummed through his veins. He wasn’t used to sitting quietly or waiting patiently, but he knew it was a difficult conversation and saw that the earl was struggling with how to begin.
Brynne wanted to give the old man a gentle verbal nudge, but he’d waited almost twenty five years for his answer and could wait a little longer. He could tell by the way Lettie gripped his hand that she was also eager, but in this, she was going to let the men take the lead.
After what seemed an eternity, but could only have been a few moments, the earl wiped a tear from the corner of his eye and spoke. “I had a younger sister named Isabeau. She was a beautiful girl, strong and spirited, much like the wife of my famous ancestor, Atticus de Wolfe, as told in the tales passed down through the generations. My sister Isabeau was your mother.”
Lettie’s eyes grew wide and she stared at Brynne in anguish.
Brynne sat motionless as a hundred thoughts suddenly swam in his head. Isabeau de Wolfe… no, his mother? How is it possible? Why would she abandon him? Had she abandoned him? “My lord, you speak of your sister in terms of the past. You said shewasmy mother.”
