She licked lips that had gone dry, feeling as if she were caught in an impromptu interrogation but for what purpose and why, she had not an inkling. “I suppose you could say it was forced on me.”
He plucked away her lace fichu, and then his fingers slid beneath the muslin at her shoulders, grazing her skin as he raked it down. He watched his progress with a glittering, predatory stare that heightened her foreboding. “Your soldier ruined you and left you to fend for yourself?”
“I… he did not ruin me,” she murmured, thinking of James, the familiar old pang in her heart. He had been a good man, kind and patient, and he had loved her. She could not allow Crispin to think he had ruined her even for the sake of her lie.
“He was not the first, then?” he asked, sounding almost detached as he dragged her bodice and sleeves to her waist.
“Yes, he was. My past is complicated, and as it has no bearing upon the present, I would prefer not to discuss it.” She realized belatedly that he had caught a fistful of fabric in his grip, banding her arms, trapped in her sleeves, to her sides. Her breasts spilled from the top of her stays. “Crispin, what are you doing? I cannot move my arms.”
“Do not worry, darling,” he said, his tone silken with promise and something else that she could not define. “I would never hurt you.”
He pulled the pins from her hair one by one, sending curls falling about her shoulders. His lovemaking was always fiery and ferocious, which was what made this cool, calculated approach so disturbing. “Why are you doing this?”
His pale gaze bored into hers. “A test, my love. Do you trust me?”
She did not hesitate with her answer, for while he had filled her with misgiving, it was not because she feared him. Rather, it was because she feared what he might have discovered about her. “Of course I do.”
“Good.” His head dipped, his mouth finding her throat. He sucked her skin, nipped it with his teeth. “I trust you as well, Jacinda. With my sisters, with my heart.” He kissed to the place where her neck and shoulder joined. “I trust you would never betray me.”
Her hope caught on one sentence. He trusted her with his heart. But before she could bask in that revelation, the rest of what he had said hit her.That you would never betray me.The breath caught in her lungs, a lance of fear cutting through her anew. He suspected her. There was a reason for his change, she felt certain of it. And what could she say? The evidence of her betrayal sat carefully tucked away not four feet from him.
She did the only thing she could conceive of doing, bowing her head to press a kiss to the top of his head, inhaling deeply of his scent, masculine and beloved. “I love you, Crispin.”
That was the only truth she could give him. Tears pricked at her eyes and she fought to keep them from falling, leaving her face pressed into the silken strands of his hair. God, how she loved this man. More than she could have imagined possible. It was bigger than she was, so easily capable of destroying her. And she did not care. Loving him was worth it.
He was worth it.
She knew in that moment without a doubt she would never give the ciphers to Kilross. She would uncover their contents and cast them into flames. If Crispin was somehow, against all reason, guilty of such treason, she would do her utmost to save him. She loved him too much. Even though he could never be hers, she could not bear to be the one who betrayed him.
She would face anything else.
Even penury.
There had to be another way for her and Father. Whatever it was, she would find it. Tonight, she would go without sleep until she discovered how great a chasm she would be forced to leap.
A sound tore from his throat, more a growl than a groan. With one more open-mouthed kiss to her bare skin, he withdrew to look down at her, searching her face. “Damn you, Jacinda. You have so much power, do you know that?”
How wrong he was, for in truth, she was powerless. Powerless to keep from hurting him, to keep from losing him, to stop what was about to unfold. Day by day, she had given him more and more of her heart and herself. Tonight would be the last.
She shook her head. “I have no power. I am at the mercy of the world.”
“As are we all.” He released his hold on her gown and gave it a savage tug. The sound of fabric tearing filled the air. Down it went, past her hips, falling to the floor in a whisper. “And as I have been at your mercy, Jacinda Turnbow.”
His hand slid to her nape, cupping her skull as if it were fashioned of fragile porcelain, a touch that belied the sudden ferocity that blazed from him. And then his lips were on hers. Molding. Melding. His kiss crushed and bruised. It took with a savagery that stole her breath. His tongue sank into her mouth. His teeth caught her lower lip and bit.
She understood the raw need in him because she felt it herself, the blossoming desperation. The need to mark and be marked. The steadfast knowledge this was to be their goodbye. She felt it in his kiss, heard it in the words that lay unspoken.
He broke the kiss, panting, his jaw rigid. “I have given you every chance to unburden yourself, wanting—nayneeding—to believe the best of you. And yet you have not. So, tell me, madam, what were you doing in my study tonight?”
The question and the stinging accusation in his tone made her blood go cold. He knew. Somehow, he knew. Here was his test, revealed to her. And she had failed it miserably.Tell him everything, her heart urged.It is not too late. You have not yet gone too far.
But the ciphers mocked her from where they lay hidden, reminding her she did not know their contents, how they had come to be locked inside his drawer, or why. If she told him the truth, he would not stop until he hunted down Kilross. That much, she was certain of, and it would only give the earl precisely what he had wanted all along: Crispin. Whether he was guilty or innocent, she needed to protect him. What was one more lie in a sea of so many?
She raised her chin, meeting his gaze. “I was waiting for you.”
He brought his lips perilously near to hers once more. “And helping yourself to the contents of my desk, darling?” his voice was low and soft. Deceptively soft.
There was no way he could have known she had taken the ciphers unless he had gone to his study upon his return and sought to retrieve them, which meant… which meant he was not innocent at all, but guilty just as Lord Kilross had claimed. Her heart foundered.
