“What happened?” Leah had to ask it. “Did Honoria betray ye?”
“Who hashn’t”—hiccup—“hasn’t betrayed me?” Fox said mournfully.
“Will ye tell me what happened?”
He looked at her for a long moment, pale eyes glittering in the low light from the sconces.
“No . . . no, no, no”—he wagged a finger at her— “you are not ferreting out all my secrets.”
“Not even one? A very little one?” Leah knew it was shameless of her to keep asking, but hisblooteredgood humor emboldened her tongue.
“I might be a very foxed Fox,” he hiccupped again, “but I can manage to avoid telling you everything.”
Leah nearly smiled at that. She knew it was not helpful, but she liked this teasing, bleeding-heart drunk version of Fox.
Usually, drink made him snappish and irritable.
But tonight . . . it hadn’t been morose thoughts that led him to the bottle, but instead laughter and good company. Surely, that explained the difference in his mood.
“Can ye tell me something else, then? Anything?” she asked. “Just one wee bitty fact?”
He lowered his face to peer at her in the tight space. But as they were already touching from knee to shoulder along her right side—her right hand pressed into the small of his back—there was nowhere for him to go.
Leah put her left palm on his chest to prevent their heads from knocking. Instead of returning to rest against the wall once more, he continued to lean into her hand. Worse, he pressed his right hand over her left one on his chest, the rasp of the callouses on his palm sending firefly sparks up her arm.
Something rumbled deep in his chest, not unlike a cat purring. “I like your hands on me.”
Oh!
Not quite the confession Leah had expected.
Thankfully, the dark stairwell masked the intensity of her firecracker cheeks.
Well, that is good, because I like putting my hands on you.
“There is no harm in that. I am your wife, sir.” Leah sounded as breathless as she felt.
“No.” His voice vibrated under her palms. “No, Mrs. Carnegie. You might have my name, but you are most definitelynotmy wife. Not in truth.”
A scorching blush heated Leah’s cheeks, spreading to engulf her entire body.
Words failed her.
Did she have the courage to tell him?
To say a secret of her own—I would like to be your wife in truth?
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed it,” he continued.
“N-noticed?” she stammered.
“I know.” He tapped his temple.
He knew? He knew what?
That she adored him? That she had loved him for years?
That she had been secretly reading his private lett—
