She studied his expression, her gaze flicking back and forth between his eyes. “Really?”
Stone lifted her hand to his heart. “I do.” The assertion didn’t feel nearly as forced as he’d expected it to.
He leaned forward to seal his declaration with a kiss but stopped when the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.
A vehicle approached.
Of course, it couldn’t have come alongbeforehe’d thrown caution to the wind and declared that he loved her.
He frowned. Something familiar in the rattle and rhythm put him on alert.
It approached from the direction they had just come from. Stone flicked the reins and headed off the road into a thick cluster of trees about twenty yards off to the right.
“You think it’s that Culpepper fellow?” She’d grasped the bench with one hand and was cradling Archie protectively with the other.
“I’m not sure.”
It shouldn’t have been. Unless his source had been paid off to tell him otherwise—much like Culpepper’s housekeeper had told them he’d gone to his country estate.
He’d seen through the woman in London, but was his obsession with Tabetha causing him to lose his edge?
When had his life become so complicated?
Driving into the copse, Stone pushed branches away, ducking but also tucking Tabetha into his side as they entered the foliage. “Stay low.” He didn’t bring Poppy to a halt until he was certain they couldn’t be spotted from the road.
In the ensuing silence, he met Tabetha’s eyes and held a fingertip to his lips. After she nodded in understanding, he silently hopped onto the ground and crept to a spot that provided him sightline to the road.
Sure enough, the vehicle that drove around the bend, flanked in front and back with outriders, was the same one he’d been chasing down less than a week before.
Odd to be on the opposite side of a hunt now.
From the corner of his eye, he noticed Tabetha leaning forward, squinting to see through the trees. Would seeing the coach summon any memories?
How would he act in her situation? How might he feel if he didn’t remember his family or his friends? Who would he be if he didn’t remember anything of his past?
Her courage flummoxed him.
Once Culpepper’s entourage was out of sight, he sauntered back to the gig but didn’t climb back up.
“Let’s wait a few minutes. Allow enough time for them to put some distance between us.”
She’d turned on the bench to face him but made no move to climb down. Still upset with himself for making her cry, he rested his hands on one of her knees protectively.
More and more, he was drawn to her.
By the time all this was over, would he even know the difference between what was real and what was pretend?
It’s all pretend, he reminded himself. Because when she remembered who she was, whohewas, she’d realize that he wasn’t at all what she wanted.
“How do I know this duke?” she whispered, looking down at him.
Questions like this were going to be his ruin. Even keeping his answers as close to the truth as possible, he was beginning to lose track of all the lies he’d told her.
“How do you know Culpepper?” he stalled.Keep as close to the truth as possible. “He wanted to marry you. But you were betrothed tome.” He squeezed her knee. “I hurried you up to Gretna, unwilling to risk losing you.” Some devil on his shoulder goaded him into adding, “You could have become a duchess, after all.” Would such a reminder nudge her memory?
“You call me duchess.”
“You’ve always been one to me.”
