Page 75 of Any Rogue Will Do
“I love her. Her money or lack of doesn’ change that.”
“You love me? Since when?” She stared up at him, trying to wrap her head around the casual way he shook her to the core with his words. As if it was a given and she should have known he loved her.
“Lass.” Ethan smiled softly. “Did you really think I proposed out of the goodness of my heart?” From the beginning, then. Breath escaped her as she considered the implications. This changed everything.
“Lottie? Do you love him?” her father asked.
“I…” Lottie’s voice trembled. Her mouth opened. She closed it, gulped, and opened it again. No words.
Stepping back, Ethan let go of her, ignoring the hand she held out. Words failed as her brain scrambled, reviewing their shared history through the lens of this new information.
He’d prioritized their relationship over his estate, just like her parents had. Yet she knew he’d move heaven and hell to take care of his people. And Lord, how she wanted to be by his side, watching Woodrest thrive, working with Macdonell to make the new brewery a success.
Ethan loved her. When she’d written that letter ending everything, he must have been gutted. The gross mishandling of this relationship on her part crashed into her with flashes of memory.
The look on Ethan’s face when she said she’d marry him.
His hunger when he took her into his arms that night in the kitchen of Woodrest.
The relief when he arrived at the inn to rescue her—even though she must have hurt him tremendously by ending their engagement.
He’d left everything behind to find her. Everything. He hadn’t even brought a hat.
As if it were echoing in a tunnel, she heard her father’s voice say, “Charlotte, I was trying to make things right. If your mother was here, you’d have married by now. I just wanted you to move on with your life instead of taking care of me.” The rest of what he said faded in her ears, because she couldn’t look away from Ethan’s face.
The love had been there for anyone to see all along, but she’d refused to acknowledge it. Too wrapped up in her plans, as per usual. She’d hurt him. Hell, she’d probably been hurting him one degree at a time for the last few months, but everything had reached a boiling point in this library.
Hell on a broomstick. All he’d done was love her, and she’d brought an arsonist to his door, then broken his heart.
“Ethan, I’m so sorry.”
Chapter Thirty
The ground hit him as hard as her words had. At the last minute he remembered to roll as he came off the horse’s back, but the air left his lungs on an “oof” and didn’t come back. As he stared up at the gray sky, struggling to breathe, the first fat raindrop hit him in the eye. Ezra was throwing him over too, and now the heavens were taking a piss on his head.
Ethan, I’m so sorry.Her stricken expression had damned their relationship until the only feeling left had been a dull thud of his heartbeat in his ears. What was the use of staying to hear more? So he’d run as if the hounds of hell nipped at his heels.
All the broken pieces inside him had turned to ice. Ezra hadn’t been unsaddled yet, so it had been an easy thing to ride straight out of the stable and down the driveway, putting as much distance between himself and that family as he could.
In his pocket, her goodbye letter, in which she’d absolved him of any lingering guilt, crinkled when he rolled to the side. Rain splattered the dirt by his face, and one of Ezra’s hooves stepped into his line of sight.
Finally, a trickle of air leaked into his lungs. The broken buckle of the girth strap dangled from the saddle he’d taken with him in that not-so-graceful exit off Ezra’s back at a full canter. He sat up and hung his head. Rain slid down the back of his neck and pelted his knees. The water brought out the smell of smoke from his clothes. If despair and hopelessness had a scent, this was it.
She couldn’t answer a simple question.Do you love him?
Ethan sighed and raised his face to the rain. What a fool he was. A heartbroken fool who went back for more, only to get kicked down again.
Ezra nuzzled his ear, huffing hay breath across his face. He absently scratched the horse’s cheek. “Yes, sir. We’ll go. The village can’t be far, eh?” Hauling himself to his feet required double the effort it usually did, but with a muttered curse he threw the saddle over his shoulder and took Ezra’s reins in hand. It could be miles, and his boots were already squelching, but there was no way he’d return to that drab, squat manor house.
“Ethan, stop!”
“Not bloody likely, Princess,” he muttered. “She doesn’ know when tae stop, does she, Ezra?” Hitching the saddle higher, he kept walking, ignoring the sound of the approaching carriage.
Scotland beckoned. Cal would meet him there with Montague, and then he’d mete out justice to a bully and a coward—which sounded like a grand time in his present frame of mind.
“Please. Get in the carriage and let’s talk about this.” It was hard to miss her, hanging out the window of her father’s carriage as it rolled alongside him down the road.
He marched on, staring resolutely ahead. The horse swung his head back toward Lottie’s voice, knowing she was usually good for a treat or two. “Don’ look at her, Ezra. You’ll only encourage her.”
