Evie lifted her head to kiss him, nipping at the side of his mouth. “I love you,” she whispered, and that was his undoing.
He called her name, tried to tell her he felt the same. Had for so long. But she kissed him again, and the words got swallowed up in the glory of that kiss.
CHAPTER10
Going to Grays’s room the previous night had seemed right. She loved him and he cared for her, and they would only have that single moment. Evie knew that as she’d knocked on his door and had resolved with herself that it would be enough for her. It would have to be.
And she’d meant to tell him the truth about her history, explain why she couldn’t marry. But everything she felt for him had seemed more important. Giving into that passion, that tenderness between them, swept away any need for hard conversations and ugly truths.
But when she’d slipped away from his room after he’d fallen asleep last night, a stone had begun to form in the pit of her stomach. She’d easily ignored it as she’d fallen asleep, reveling in the memories of their lovemaking.
Now though, in the cold, gray Yorkshire daylight, she knew that her choice had been an imperfect one. She did not regret a moment spent in Gray’s arms, but she hated that he would seek her out today expecting that she had agreed to the proposal he’d never completely managed to utter. Yet his desire for her—for a life with her—had been clear last night.
Shehad known that they’d never touch each other again. He had believed it was the start of a shared future.
Evie couldn’t stay in the castle. She’d taken a walk as soon as the sun came up. Now she stood in the stables, petting a stable cat who allowed her attentions one moment, strode away the next, but the returned for more affection.
“Shall I saddle one for ya, miss?” A stable boy rounded the corner and gestured toward one of the majestic horses in the stalls. “She’ll treat ya right. Takes a rider and the bridle well, and she likes a walk or run across the fields now and then. Lady Hepworth rides her when she visits.”
Evie hadn’t ridden in years. Lady Worthington preferred London to the countryside. But she’d always loved horses and nodded at the young man.
“I’d like that. Thank you very much.” Evie watched as the young man led the mare into the stable yard and began preparing her for saddling.
“There you are.”
Evie tensed at the sound of a voice that sent shivers of pleasure down her spine last evening. She turned to face Gray, uncertain what she’d read in his gaze. Fearful of what he’d see in hers.
“I’ve been looking for you.” He beamed at her and strode toward her as if he meant to sweep her up into his arms.
“Lord Rothwell, good morning.”
The ease in his stride immediately altered. He slowed, arched a brow, then noticed the stable hand throwing a saddle over the coal-black mare.
“You’re going riding? Why?” By the time he stood before her, Gray’s ebullient expression had turned to confusion and a hint of worry. “You don’t like to ride.”
“That’s not true at all.”
“Evie, you were afraid of horses your entire childhood.”
“Well, I got over it.”
He bit his lip, glanced at the young man, then drew a step closer. “Should we ride out together? Have a few moments alone before speaking to our aunts?” A smile flickered across his mouth. “I’d like that.”
“On second thought, I don’t think I’ll ride today,” Evie called to the young man.
He shrugged, tipped his hat at her, and removed the heavy saddle he’d just placed on the mare’s back.
“Shall we walk?” Evie asked Gray. There was a tree-lined path beyond the stable that lead toward a wide, open field. Among the trees, no one could see or hear them, unless they were lurking close by.
“If you wish.” Gray’s brows had crimped into an immovable frown, despite the pleasantness in his tone.
Once they were on the path, sheltered by a copse of trees, he stopped her.
“Evie, what’s going on?” He swallowed hard, scanned her face with a worried look. “Was it last night? Do you have regrets?”
“No.” That wasn’t entirely true, and she clenched her hands into fists, frustrated that there was no way to do this without hurting the only man she’d ever loved. Ever would love. “Not in the way you think.”
He slid a finger along her jaw, the gentleness of his touch melting away some of her misery and fear. “Talk to me, sweetheart. You know you can tell me anything.”
