Tess recalled how peeved the lady had been to find he’d departed. “That explains a great deal.” Tess swallowed and ran her fingers along the buttons of his shirt. “Though I can hardly judge her, considering.”
“I cast no judgement on her either. Indeed, I admired her boldness. But it was not something I wished to pursue, nor did I wish to have another such discussion and disappoint her again on that visit.”
“So, you’re selective as to your... lovers?”
He barked out a sharp laugh. “I suppose my reputation would suggest otherwise.”
“Are you not fond of your reputation?”
He held her gaze a long moment before answering. “In the past I was. My father was shameless, and I thought I should be too.”
“And now?” Tess noticed his jaw had tensed. She lifted her hand and dared to draw her finger along that sharp line.
He grasped her hand in his. She thought he meant to push her touch away. Instead, he laid a kiss against her knuckles and stroked his thumb against her palm.
“I’m not sure I’ve sorted it out myself.”
“You needn’t tell me. Honesty doesn’t mean we have to declare every thought in our head.”
After staring down at the spot where he stroked her palm, he looked up at her again.
“I... lost someone who was a genuine friend to me, and now chasing after my father’s shadow feels hollow in a way it didn’t before.” He shook his head and his lips quirked in arueful grin. “You’ve brought this out in me, you know? This tendency toward awkward confessions.”
“There’s no shame in wanting something different for yourself. Tristan and I wanted to be like our father too, studious and history-obsessed, but he encouraged us to be true to ourselves first and foremost.”
“Your father sounds like a very good man.” He swallowed hard and drew in a sharp breath. “Perhaps it’s not wrong to choose something else, but I’ve wanted to emulate my own father for so long. Any detour from that path feels odd. Ill-fitting.”
“Are you afraid of disappointing him?”
“Perhaps. I only know that the more I try to shed his influence, the more odd I feel.”
“Does what’s between us feel... odd?” Tess asked, curious about this man who lived up to everything written about him in the papers, yet at the same time was so completely different.
“God, no.” He pulled her closer without hesitation, cupping her cheek, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Every day close to you feels...”
He trailed off, and Tess leaned in, her breasts brushing the heat of his chest. “Feels?” she prompted.
“You’ll say I’m trying to charm you.”
“Tell me.”
“It feels like a gift.” His fingers traced lightly along her jaw, mirroring the way she’d touched him. “Every day that I wake up knowing I’ll get to spend my hours with you feels as if I’ve won some grand prize.”
“Oh.” Tess didn’t know what to say. But her heart, fluttering, twisting, dancing in a way that made her breath catch, did. He wasn’t making promises. He wasn’t asking for anything. And somehow, that made his raw confession all the more powerful.
“Did I shock you?” he asked softly.
“A little,” she admitted. “You surprise me. Continually.”
“I hope that’s a good thing.” He seemed anxious for her reply. “Is it?”
Who was this man who kissed like the scoundrel he was widely known to be and yet spoke to her with such earnestness and vulnerability too?
Chapter Thirteen
Ladies had rarely found him surprising. He played his role so well, and they appreciated that he was precisely as billed. A talented lover. A relentless treasure seeker. A man who’d ask nothing of them, take nothing from them, and yet leave them thoroughly satisfied.
Tess declaring that he surprised her, continually, shot a twist of worry to his gut.
