Page 112 of Counting on a Countess
Planting his hands on his hips, his gaze never strayed from her face. He looked like the soldier he was, sharply assessing the situation. Was she the enemy to him, or an ally? Perhaps she was something more complicated.
“If I have any regret,” she went on, her eyes burning, “it’s that I hurt you. I never desired that. I only wanted...” She blinked hard to stem the tears that wanted to run. “I had hoped that somehow, we could find a way to be together, to be happy, even as my deception drove a wedge between us.” She quickly dashed her hand across her eyes. “Something occurred after you asked me to marry you. Something unexpected. I wasn’t even sure if I wanted it to happen. But it did.”
Summoning all her courage, she stepped closer to him. He didn’t move when she placed her hand on his chest—but he didn’t embrace her, either.
“I fell in love with you, Kit.” Her smile was a fragile thing, easily broken. “The man who I’d wed as a means to an end was also the man I came to love. I love your clever mind, and the joy you find in the world, and the size of your heart. I love the way you cultivate friendships because you genuinely like people. I love that you never tried to make me into someone I wasn’t.”
His eyes were shining now, bright with emotion, and his chest heaved beneath her palm.
“Every lie I told you was like performing an amputation on myself,” she whispered. “Cutting away perfectly healthy flesh while I fought to keep from screaming. But I had to choose—loving you, or the life of the village.” She pressed her lips together. “So I made my choice. I made it, and I’m ready to face the consequences.”
She dropped her hand and knotted it. Her fingers wrapped around her thumb and her fingernails dug into the flesh of her palm. “I can tell Mr. Flowers that I’m granting you complete, unrestricted access to our fortune. Bring a CrimCon suit against me. Say I was unfaithful. I won’t contest it.” Pain tore through her as she spoke, but she made herself go on. “All I ask is that you don’t hurt the people of Newcombe.”
A long moment passed. Tamsyn died and was reborn a hundred times as she gazed at Kit, her soul in her eyes and her fate in his hands. She searched his face for some sign, anything at all that revealed what he thought, he felt. Yet he remained steadfastly opaque.
Finally, his gaze fixed to hers, he cupped his hand around hers and slowly, carefully, uncurled her fingers.
“You’ll break your thumb if you throw a punch with it tucked under your fingers,” he said lowly. He arranged her hand so that it formed a strong fist. “Better. More force and less chance of injuring yourself.”
She frowned. “Are you asking me to strike you?”
“I want you to be able to defend yourself,” he answered. “Firearms are good for only one shot, and they aren’t very reliable. Plus there’s a chance you could kill someone, which is a crime punishable by death. If there isn’t anything around to use as a weapon, effective use of this”—he lifted up her fist—“can be devastating. Don’t be afraid to use it on a customs officer if he’s coming after you. Aim for his nose or throat. Hitting the solar plexus,” he continued, resting her hand on the center of his chest, “can knock the wind out of someone and give you an opportunity to run like hell.”
She stared at him as her pulse raced. A tutorial in self-defense was not what she had expected from him.
“There’s always a knee to the groin,” she said lowly.
He grimaced. “Brutal and devastating.”
“Generally,” she said, failing to keep her words level, “when the lawbreaker is advised on better ways to defeat the law, it’s seen as an endorsement of their illegal activities.” She licked her dry lips. “Is that what you’re saying, Kit?”
He wrapped both his hands around her upraised fist. “As you said, neither of us is guiltless. We’ve both done things... things that aren’t necessarily right, but they aren’t wrong, either.” He exhaled. “It’s a complex world. We try to control it with laws and Thou Shalt Nots and etiquette manuals. We try... but when it comes down to it... we can only do the best we can. Hope we hurt as few people as possible. Sometimes it can’t be avoided.” His lips formed a small, wry smile. “Sometimes it’s necessary. Like what you’ve done here, for the village.”
Her chest began loosening, the knot in her belly unraveling, but she was afraid to look too closely at what she felt, and what he meant.
“I was responsible for hundreds of lives, too,” he went on softly. “Each time one of my men died, they took a piece of me with them—because I hadn’t been able to protect all of them. But had it been in my power, I would have done anything to make sure they returned to their families. I fought and planned and killed, for my country, yes, but for my men, as well.”
“Kit.” She imbued his name with all her aching hope.
“My love,” he answered. His gaze was warm, and he lowered her fist before cupping the side of her face. His palm was warm against her chilled flesh. “I’m here. I understand. And I know what has to be done.”
She had been the one responsible for everything for so long. The burden eased from her shoulders, yet her heart refused to fly free until it knew for certain what Kit intended.
He pressed his lips against her forehead before tilting her head back so their gazes met. “On my way back here, I realized what we have to do. We’ll stick with your plan to buy this house from your uncle.” He smiled down at her. “The smuggling must continue. And, if you’ll have me, I’ll serve as your second-in-command.”
She gazed at him with wide eyes. “You speak truly?”
“I jest about many things,” he murmured, “but not this. Not you. My sweet, brave, scofflaw bride.” He permitted himself a scoundrel’s smile. “They’ll sing ballads about us and sell prints of our daring, infamous exploits in the shops on Paternoster Row.”
“No need for infamy,” she said gently. Her lips trembled as she spoke. “We only want to keep the village alive and thriving.”
He ducked his head in acknowledgment. “Perhaps I got a little swept up. However,” he added more soberly, “in this field, you have more experience. I cede to your expert knowledge.”
“I need to hear it again.” Her breath came quickly. “You aren’t going to report me to the customs officers? The smuggling doesn’t have to stop?”
“Precisely right.” He wrapped his arms around her. “I’m here to help, however I can. Because it’s the right thing to do. And because I love you.”
He brought his lips to hers, and, throwing her arms about him, she kissed him back with all the desire and joy and love that filled her like an ocean. Gratitude poured through her, leaving her giddy on thankfulness and Kit’s kisses.
