Her fingers were knotted together in her lap. “Tell me.”
Max took his time stepping into his trousers, but when he straightened and buttoned them, he met her gaze. “I spent my life as a drudge, Ember. An unpaid servant.”
Her brows rose. “Like me?”
“Yes, but…” He shook his head and turned away, reaching for his shirt. “Myfatherwas the one who treated me that way. I was always second-best—no, my brother Roy, Jr. was the bestandsecond-bestandthird-best in my father’s eyes. Even before my mother died, I remember him raging at her. At me.”
Ember’s heart had clenched, and now she wrapped her arms around herself. “Did—did he hurt her? You.”
The long, tanned column of his throat worked as he swallowed. “Yes. Many times. I spent my life wondering what I had done wrong. And working—so hard—to try to make him love me.”
“But he did not. No matter how quickly you followed his orders.”
Max met her gaze and his hands dropped from where he’d been tugging on his shirt. “Should’ve guessed you know exactly how that feels.”
Her lips twisted wryly. “I have always known my stepmother wasn’t going to love me, no matter how hard I tried.”
He cleared his throat and scrubbed a hand over his face. “So you see, Ember,” he asked, as he met her eyes once more, “every time you told me I was somehowbetterthan you, just because of my position, I knew you were wrong. I grew up asnothing—less than nothing, and this still feels like a—a fairy tale.” He gestured around his office. “This responsibility, this honor. Finding my family.You.”
Her heart ached for him. “You deserve it, Max. You belong here. At least you know the man you thought was your father…”
“Right.” Max blew out a breath and scrubbed his hand through his hair. “Hearing Mr. Prince’s theory made alotof things clear to me. I understood why my—why Roy DeVille was so angry at me and my mother. It didn’t make it right, not by a long shot, but knowing I wasn’t his kid…” He shook his head. “At least I could stop wondering what I did wrong.”
Ember shot to her feet. “You didnothingwrong, Max. You were a child—a babe! And I cannot blame your mother for looking for comfort in the arms of someone else—our laird is a handsome man, and?—”
“Whoa, whoa,” Max chuckled, reaching for her arms to calm her down. “I don’t blame her either. Being welcomed by my family here—it’s been…” He shrugged. “Wonderful. I’mgladto learn I’m not really a DeVille, trust me.”
She lifted her hand to his cheek. “You arenota devilora DeVille, Max,” she said softly. “You belong here, with your family.”
His hands tightened on her. “I belong here. Withyou.”
Oh yes, he’d said that earlier, hadn’t he?Forever.
“You have built a life here. Your house will be done soon.”
When he swallowed, she found her gaze dropping to his throat.
“It’s done now,” he rasped. “That’s why I left the inn. But…” He glanced away again. “It’s not what I was hoping it would be.”
“Why not?” She ached to hold him, and so she did, resting her hands on his hips. Not because of how he made her feel, but in order to makehimfeel better. Safer.Loved.
Without looking at her, Max confessed in a quiet voice, “Because you’re not there, Ember. Everywhere I look in that house, I think of you and how much I’d like to have you there with me. I know the way I feel for you; I know it’s fast. I know it almost feels like—magic. But it’s still true.”
And for one perfect, shining moment, the world ceased to move. Ember stopped breathing, her pulse quieted in her ears, and she felt herself smile.
Then she exhaled and the world started to turn again, but slower. More softly, somehow.
“Are you saying you want a future with me, Max?”
His palms slid down her arms to her wrists, then to her hips. He tugged her closer, and Ember lifted her hands to spread her fingers across his bare chest. They were pressed against each other.
Where they belonged.
“I want a future with you, Ember Oliphant.” His gaze was serious. “But I wanted you to know, first, about my past. So when you think I’m some kind of high-and-mighty…lordor something, you’ll remember who I really am.”
“Oh, Max,” she breathed, her smile blooming. “Who youreallyare is Max DeVille—no, MaxOliphant! A hard-working manager of my ancestral business. I was so angry—not at you, but at myself—for not realizing who you were, and I was embarrassed too.”
“No,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t feel embarrassed. I never told you my name, or my position, and when you made assumptions, I should’ve guessed what you meant.”
