Harriet moved before she could think better of it, crossing the distance between them and placing her hand on his arm. He turned, his expression guarded, braced for rejection.
"I don't know if I love you," she said quietly. "I can't say those words yet, because I'm not sure they're true. But I know I don't hate you. I know that somewhere in the past few weeks, you've become someone I trust, someone I rely on, someone I…"She struggled for the right words. "Someone I want to know better. Much better."
"What does that mean?"
"It means…" Harriet took a breath. "It means don't go. Not yet. Stay and talk to me. Stay and have dinner with me. Stay and…" She felt heat rise to her cheeks. "Just stay."
Sebastian's expression softened. "Are you sure?"
"No." Harriet laughed shakily. "I'm not sure of anything anymore. But I'm tired of being careful. I'm tired of keeping my distance. You've been brave enough to be honest with me. The least I can do is try to be brave in return."
Slowly, giving her every chance to pull away, Sebastian raised his hand and cupped her cheek. His palm was warm, his touch gentle.
"I'll stay," he said. "For as long as you want me."
"And if that's forever?"
"Then forever it is."
Harriet closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. She wasn't ready to say she loved him. Wasn't ready to make promises she wasn't sure she could keep.
CHAPTER NINE
She had kissed him.
Sebastian had been awake since dawn, staring at the canopy above his bed, replaying the moment with the obsessive attention of a man who had lost all claim to rationality. Harriet’s flushed face as she admitted to him that she was willing to take the risk.
And then his hands on her face, and her lips against his, and seven years of longing crashing into a single, perfect moment.
She had kissed him back. That was the part his mind kept snagging on. He had initiated, yes, but she hadrespondedwith her fingers in his hair, her body leaning into his, a small sound in the back of her throat that he would remember until he died.
Harriet Fordshire…HarrietVane, she was Harriet Vane now, his wife, legally and officially his wife, had kissed him back.
He was going to be of no use today.
Sebastian dragged himself out of bed and submitted to his valet's ministrations with less than his usual attention. His cravat was probably crooked. But he couldn't bring himself to care. All he could think about was the way she had looked at him afterward, flushed and breathless, sayingthis doesn't mean I like youwith a smile that suggested otherwise.
She liked him. She might even…
No. He wouldn't let himself think that. Not yet. Hope was a dangerous thing, and Sebastian had learned long ago to keep it carefully contained. Harriet had kissed him. That was enough. That was more than enough. He would not ask for anything in return.
He arrived at the breakfast room before her, as had become his habit. The newspaper was deployed, the coffee poured, themask of sardonic composure firmly in place. Whatever chaos was happening inside his chest, he would not let it show.
And then she walked in, and every carefully constructed defence crumbled to dust.
She was wearing a blue morning dress that brought out her eyes, her dark hair pinned up in a simple arrangement that made him want to pull out every pin and watch it tumble down. She looked beautiful. She always looked beautiful. But today there was something different, a softness in her expression, a hint of uncertainty that made his heart clench.
"Good morning, wife," he said, because he couldn't help himself.
She stopped in the doorway, her chin lifting in that familiar defensive gesture. "We are not discussing last night."
"I wasn't aware I had mentioned last night."
"You were thinking about it. I could tell."
"I think about many things. You flatter yourself."
The words came automatically, the banter being a shield they both hid behind. But Sebastian was thinking about last night. He would be thinking about last night for the rest of his natural life. He would be ninety years old and senile and still remembering the exact pressure of her lips against his.
