“A disheveled solicitor who swans in and saves the day with his cleverness and roguish good looks.”
“I suspect the beard is doing a great deal of the lifting in that descriptor.” I dragged blunt fingernails across the growth on my cheek. Davina pressed her lips together in a way I wasn’t certain how to interpret. “What?”
“Don’t shave it,” she blurted, the words escaping nearly on top of each other.
The chuckles that broke free surprised me. They arrived before I had finished parsing her meaning, entirely instinctive delight. “I promise, if you marry me, I’ll never be without a beard for as long as it pleases you.”
“And if I do not marry you?”
“Then the beard is gone. I’ll not be ostracized by society without the proper incentive.”
“Like you care a fig about society,” she chirped.
“You’re not wrong. But I won’t brave another of Mother’s lectures about how I look unkempt and sloppy without the reward of a breathtaking wife to return to.”
“I cannot believe you’re holding the beard hostage. That’s cruel.”
“A man does what he must.”
Twenty-Nine
NORTH ROAD—APRIL 13, 1817
DAVINA
He tracedthe lines of my spine with a warm, oversized hand as the gentle rocking of the carriage lulled me, not to sleep but to a quiet, contemplative state.
Draped across Kit with my face buried in his shoulder might have been the safest I’d ever felt.
If pressed, I wouldn’t have been able to recall a time I felt particularly unsafe, but here, in the cocoon of our—now functional—carriage, sated and warm, I was protected, cherished.
He seemed to have no particular inclination to speak after teasing me into submission. I had no need to fill the silence either. Especially not if the chatter required me to pull away from the swirls of cedar, ink, and parchment that called his skin home.
Here, I could trace the surprisingly muscular planes of his chest where his shirt hung loose. I’d probably stretched it permanently in my distracted tugging but I doubted he’d find it in him to complain when he noticed. The skin here wasn’t anylighter than his face, which meant his skin tone was naturally a shade darker than mine, with a burnished golden undertone. It wasn’t a surprise given how much time he spent in the offices.
The light dusting of hair was every bit as soft, dark, and curly as the riot atop his head. I hadn’t managed to work up a shred of guilt over the disaster I’d left his overgrown curls.
I closed my eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of Kit. The carriage was so smooth over the terrain, I could almost forget that every mile carried us closer to the end.
Kit was going to accept the earldom—not that he’d ever had a real choice. That decision would be the end of his rescues if any of my adventures went awry. He’d be days away in his estate.
I would be alone.
I hadn’t particularly liked it when Xander left for Scotland or when Cee had remarried, but those changes hadn’t impacted me terribly much. I still caused mischief. Kit was still there to sort it out if everything went sideways.
I rather thought Kit’s choice would change everything. That understanding sat in the depths of my stomach, churned around like a ship at sea in a storm.
It was selfish, the question on the tip of my tongue, and I bit it back. He wasn’t abandoning me. And even if he were, it wasn’t as though he wanted to, he’d made that clear. I couldn’t ask him to stay, to be my solicitor—no matter how much I wanted to.
To be quite honest, I’d love for him to give up that position as well. He would have no need of other clients. He could spend all day pleasuring me. When we required a break, he would accompany me on all of my adventures. We had an understanding, and I was certain he would only intervene when it was necessary. We could live quite happily like that.
Except that Kit wouldn’t be happy. Or he would be, but his honor would never allow it. But this Kit—my Kit—would have toforsake that fundamental aspect of his being. And then he would cease to be Kit.
“You’re thinking too hard. I thought I put a stop to that.” His chest rumbled against my cheek when he spoke, low and deep.
“You should be proud. I do not think my thoughts have ever been silent as long as they were earlier.”
“Deep thoughts?”
