“I’m just me,” he said quietly behind her. “I’ve been staying at the inn while I’m waiting for?—”
“For your house to be finished, I know,” she snapped. “I thought you were staying here, while your boss stayed at Dumpkins Estate with the other lords, because you are a simple man!”
“Ember…” His voice changed as he moved up beside her. “Iama simple man.”
“No! There is nothing simple about you!” Frustrated at her own anger and tears, she hurled the graver across the workbench, where it skidded to a stop among the neatly arranged tools. “I cannot believe I thought I was falling in love with you!”
She heard him suck in a breath, but she was too knotted up inside to even look at him.
“Were you using me,Mr. DeVille?Was I just a serving lass to dally with?” Her voice caught on a sob. “Was I?”
“Ember!”
His hand closed around her forearm, but she yanked herself out of his hold and stumbled away. She finally turned to face him again, her fists hovering at her side, because she was too angry to know what to do with them. “I let youkissme, Mr. DeVille! And I kissed you back, because I thought we had a connection! But you are too high and mighty to think that way about a mere serving lass?—”
“Listento yourself, Ember!” he growled, but made no move to reach for her. “However poorly you think ofme,I’m not going to let you talk that way about yourself! You’re a remarkable woman, Ember.”
“I am a serving lass, Mr. DeVille.”
“Dammit,stopcalling me that! I’mMax.” He was breathing heavily now, and she saw his own hands had curled into fists. He was still the most handsome man she’d ever met, but with the fire of anger flashing in his light brown eyes, he was downright mesmerizing. “I’m just a cowboy.”
Just a cowboy. Just a serving lass.
But that wasn’t true, was it?
“No, you arenotjust a cowboy. You are a fancy manager of a fancy business endeavor. The son of the laird, and practically a lord yourself. You were the guest of honor at the ball—” Ember gasped so loudly she almost choked as she stumbled back against the workbench. “You were the one I danced with!”
He didn’t deny it.
“You knew, did ye not?” She gasped again, her eyes widening in realization at what she’d just stated and what he hadn’t denied. “You knew it was me all along?”
“No.” He lowered his eyes, sounding almost…sad? “I realized only last night when I saw what you were working on.”
Afterthe kiss?
Her palms scrabbled for the edge of the workbench behind her, desperate to feelanythingsolid, as her breaths left her in greatheaving gasps and sobs. The tears were no longer flowing, but her chest felt tight, and her mind was in turmoil.
Was this anger, shame, or something entirely different?
“Wh-what do you mean?” she finally managed. He realized she’d been his partner for the waltz only since last night?
Is that why he had shut down and hurried away?
She didn’t want him to have a reasonable explanation. She wanted to stay angry at him.
But when he turned, giving her his shoulder, as he raked his hand through the dark curls, she felt confusion settle over her. Yes, she was still angry. But he seemed sad, and she ached to comfort him.
Which was stupid.
Love can be stupid.
No, she couldn’t love him, not after the way he’d lied to her.
But did he truly lie?
“I’m sorry, Ember,” he said quietly, tugging at the hair at the back of his head. “It wasn’t until yesterday, when I saw your hair for the first time—you’re always wearing that cap—that I guessed. Not at first, but when you handed me that shoe, I knew.” He peeked sideways at her. “You see, I have the other one.”
Suddenly, all the anger seemed to drain from Ember’s chest, leaving her feeling…empty. “You have my other shoe? The one I lost?”
