Page 94 of Counting on a Countess
“It’s over two hundred and fifty miles from here to London,” she noted with amazement.
“So it is,” he answered neutrally.
“I don’t see a carriage following you,” she added. “You rode the whole way?”
Kit gave one slight nod.
He’d been in the saddle for over a week. Yet her amazement was nearly dwarfed by an expanding, stunned joy that he was here with her now. “Is that... a piece of hay on the back of your coat?”
Absently, he plucked the hay from behind his shoulder and flicked it away.
“On your journey,” she pressed, “you slept where, exactly?”
“Barns, mostly,” he replied offhandedly. “Under a hayrick one night.”
That explained why it looked as though he hadn’t shaved for several days. But why? Why put himself through such a demanding ordeal? “Surely with your allowance you could afford hiring a carriage and staying at inns. I made sure to leave you money before I left.”
“True,” he answered neutrally. “But I’d rather spend my blunt on something important. Like this.” He pulled an object from his saddlebag and held it out to her.
She urged her horse closer and looked at the metallic object in his hand. It was a disk the size of a dinner plate, with markings etched into the brass, and flat plates set into its surface. The patina on it showed its considerable age—and the markings were in a language Tamsyn assumed was Arabic.
Her pulse hammered as she looked between him and the object, and she felt both humbled and elated that he had done so much for her.
“It’s an astrolabe,” he explained as she took the object from him. Their fingers brushed, sending pulses of hot awareness to every part of her.
He stared at his hand, and she realized that he’d felt that surge of sensation, too. Then he roused himself and dragged his gaze up to hers. “For navigation on the sea. I picked it up in an antiquaries shop in Exeter. Couldn’t arrive empty-handed.” He spoke with an airiness contradicted by the intensity in his gaze. Kit tried to smile in an offhand manner, but there was strain in the corners of his mouth.
Tamsyn turned the astrolabe carefully over in her hands. It was exquisitely crafted, a marvel of engineering combined with beauty.
“Kit...” She brought her gaze up to his. “Why?”
His smile fell away. He glanced toward the water. “The world’s been an awfully gray place since you went away.” He turned back to her, naked longing in his gaze. “I’m not certain how to make things right, but I knew it couldn’t be done with me stomping about London and you all the way over here. The pleasure garden... it was something I’d clung to, thinking it would make everything better. But it wouldn’t,” he said with somber resolve. “I couldn’t tell you all this in a letter. Thus...” He exhaled. “Here I am.”
Her chest contracted painfully. She’d craved seeing his face, hearing his voice—and here he was.
“What I did was unforgivable,” he went on. “I don’t expect you to absolve me. Perhaps, in time, you might not hate me.”
“I don’t hate you, Kit,” she said softly. “But you dealt me a hard blow.”
He looked down briefly, acknowledging his wrongdoing. “The damned thing is... by setting out to win you for my own selfish reasons, I learned how truly extraordinary you are, and how much I—” He swallowed. “How much I care about you. I careforyou.”
His eyes were hot and intense with emotion. “I pray that one day, you will feel for me even a fraction of what I feel for you. That would be enough.”
“Kit.” She could barely speak around the thick knot in her throat.
“I won’t ask you to figure out a way for me to regain your favor,” he said hoarsely. “But know that I will spend the rest of my life making you happy in any way I can.”
The enormity of the gesture and his words thrilled and humbled her. She wanted to sing, to shout. To throw her arms around him and kiss him until they both forgot how to breathe.
The anger at his actions still lived, yet it faded before the enormity of what he had done to get to her. At the feelings he’d expressed. But—
Heaviness tugged on her heart. She would have to betray those feelings by lying to him—again. Tomorrow night she’d oversee another smuggling run, and he couldn’t learn about it. If he did... everything could fall apart. He’d been a soldier, serving his king and country. His earldom had been a reward for his heroism. From his own lips she’d learned that he would believe her illegal activities betrayed the very values he’d risked his life to uphold.
If only he’d showed up three days later. If only she wasn’t the source of Newcombe’s stability. If only...
His lips pressed into a line, and she realized she’d fallen silent for a long time.
“I shouldn’t have come,” he said flatly, “judging by the effusive warmth of your welcome.”
