When she came a second time, he let out a loud cry and then she felt him withdraw and the heat of him splashed across her skin.
Together they collapsed on the floor of the boxing ring, his body half-covering hers, his hands still stroking over her as they panted together in release.
“There is nothing like you,” he said as he kissed her shoulder and cradled her back against his chest.
She rolled to face him. “You can’t mean that.”
He nodded. “I do.”
“You’re too good at that to not be experienced,” she argued.
“But you’reyou,” he said, as if that should explain his words. “And when I’m with you, everything falls away but us. Yes, there’s pleasure, but there’s more. You must know there’s more.”
There was an edge to his voice now and she stared at his face, taut with tension that had nothing to do with passion. She swallowed. “Finn?—”
“I’m in love with you, Esme,” he said softly.
The words hung between them, as loud as an canon blast, as quiet as a whisper. She could hardly breathe as she looked at him and saw that he wasn’t playing a game, he wasn’t lying to gain advantage. He meant what he said. This man loved her, despite all the obstacles, despite the fact that there wasn’t a way for this to work out.
He loved her.
She wanted to answer, even though her spinning mind couldn’t formulate a response. But before she could, the door to the parlor opened and into the room came Finn’s sister, Lady Marianne and the Earl of Ramsbury. They were talking and laughing together until they saw Esme and Finn, and then they both stopped short, staring.
Finn shifted in front of her, shoving her chemisette back to her so she could cover herself.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he barked out.
His sister was now looking at them through her fingers, but she lowered them as she said, “Lady Charlotte?”
CHAPTER 21
In the years since Esme had fled her house, fled her life as Charlotte, she had never come close to being revealed. Well, with Finn, of course, but that felt different. She’d been in rooms with men of power, men who’d known her father, even men who had asked her to dance at balls or paid her attention during promenades at the park.
But she’d worn a mask then, and despite her terror at first, had quickly realized that people only saw what they wanted to see when they looked at others. As a woman who fought, quite literally, to feed herself, she was beneath them. So they didn’t see a daughter of a marquess.
But now Marianne stared at her, her eyes wide as Esme smoothed her wrinkled chemisette and shoved her skirts lower over her calves, andsheknew.
“I-I—” Esme began, though she had no idea what she could possibly say to respond to this. It was as if all words and thoughts fled her mind in her absolute terror.
“You’re mistaken,” Finn snapped, and got up, tugging Esme behind him and continuing to block her with his body. “What are you doing here?”
“We were invited,” Ramsbury said, his expression one of both shock and respect. “Remember? The wedding is tomorrow? Family gathering to celebrate? Last-minute details?”
“Damn it,” Finn grunted. “Is it that late in the day?”
Marianne stepped closer, straining to look past her brother toward Esme. “I’mnotmistaken,” she said. “You’re Lady Charlotte, the Marquess of Chilton’s daughter. Finn, you only asked about her a few days ago at the ball when her cousin entered the room. Isthiswhy?”
“Finn,” Esme whispered, gripping his arm.
Then she thought of his face when he said he loved her. Because of that, he would destroy himself, wouldn’t he? She knew that was the kind of man he was. She loved him in return, so she couldn’t let him.
She stepped around him and inclined her head toward Marianne. “You’re no fool, my lady,” she said softly. “I cannot deny my identity.”
“Esme!” Finn said. “You owe them no explanation.” He glared at the others. “She owes younoexplanation.”
Marianne’s eyes widened, though Esme wasn’t certain if it was because of her desire to know what the hell was going on, or because of Finn’s strenuous defense of her. But then Marianne drew a breath, sent a glance toward Ramsbury, and her expression softened. She held Esme’s stare a moment and then nodded.
“I apologize for…for pressing. But of course you owe me nothing. I would never force you to give an explanation, despite my utter shock at seeing you here. Forgive me.”
