A gift he’d never given.
He flexed his fingers and held back a grin as she fidgeted as surely as if he’d trailed his lips over her skin. “Would you like to see the inner workings?” He gestured to the watch. God above, she should imagine he meant something else.
His body throbbed at the thought.
When, of course, he meant something else.
But he was willing to ride this out and show her the bloody watch.
Pushing aside the letter she was transcribing, she rested her elbows on the desk and leaned in, her simple, elegant scent skimming his senses. Soap and rosewater and the lightest hint of lemon, free of conceit or enticement, like the woman. Her eyes lifted to his, then dropped to the timepiece. “It’s exquisite,” she murmured and went to touch, then halted, thinking better of the impulse.
He smiled, rooted to the spot, his love for her confirmed that second if it hadn’t been already. “Here.” He took her hand, extended her index finger, and lightly touched the watch, letting her feel the whisper-kiss movement of the wheels against her skin. “Nickel motor barrel bridge. Winding wheel. Crown wheel. Regulator. Escapement wheel.” With each item he listed, he tapped her finger gently on the part.
“This timepiece will be in the duke’s possession, his family’s, for centuries. He’ll likely gift it to Lord Jonathan. Perhaps another to Lord William. And they will gift them to their sons. Or, one can hope, to their daughters.”
Christian’s heart skipped, a full second before it kicked into rhythm again. He exhaled, his hand trembling where it rested over hers. “That knowledge gives me such pleasure, such pride, that it makes it easier to let them go.”
She sighed, a low, melodic echo he would hold in his memory forever when he’d once wondered so savagely what her voice sounded like. Snaking her hand from beneath his, she said, “You’re possessive.”
He knew they weren’t talking about his watches. “I’ve had to fight for everything I have, and I do mean everything, Raine. I don’t easily share. Or give up.”
“Is that a challenge?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Is it?”
“Stubborn,” she added, humor chasing the declaration.
Taking his teacup with him, he sprawled in his armchair, his gaze locked on hers as he sipped. “Flaws aplenty.”
“Kit, you’re brilliant. And irritated only because I didn’t tell you what you wanted to hear.”
He rolled the rim of the cup along his bottom lip and felt intense satisfaction when her gaze tracked the movement. “You’re the most forthright person I’ve ever met. It’s strangely humbling. And punitive.”
She laughed, such a joyous reaction he jostled his cup, spilling tea on his wrist. “I like talking to you. It’s been ages, forever, I think, since I could speak my mind or anyone cared to listen. It’s addictive. Like I feel when I’m close to figuring out the mystery in a book. I’m so ready to get there.”
“You’re killing me. You know that, right?” He blew a fast breath through his teeth, slapped his cup to the desk, and leaned in until he got close enough to see the flecks of gold swimming in her eyes. His body was alive with yearning, absolutely pulsing. “I’m happy to feed your compulsion. Any of them. Try me.”
Her eyes widened, her lips parting on a spent, ragged sound that tore him up inside. “You don’t know me well.” She drew her hands into a prayerful fist and rested her chin atop them. “I’m headstrong. A horrible cook. An abysmal seamstress. My only talent languages, words, books. I’m independent and outspoken, a nightmare for most men. No one you would truly want to involve yourself with. I’m uninterested in parties or fashion or gossip. I’m happy with my novels. A cat would be nice. A dog even. A horse. And children.” Her eyes flicked to his, then to the desk. “Someday, children.”
He coughed to cover his mirth, but like smoke it slid neatly into the study, surrounding them.
“Why are you smiling, you beast?” she asked between bared teeth. “You know, I used to punch my brothers for teasing me like this.”
“Because this diatribe is enlightening as all hell, Raine darling. You’re talking yourself out of this, out of me, because you know I’ve already decided. I decided ten years ago. Somehow, this rambling list of excuses about why I shouldn’t want you is very, very good news. In the few hours between last night and this morning, you’ve decided we’re a ‘maybe’.” He snapped his fingers with a grin. “My horse has moved up in the odds.”
“I haven’t…that is, I am…I’m not…” With a growl of frustration, she shoved to her feet. “Oh, bother!”
He was out of his chair, catching her wrist before she could storm from the room. Walking her back against the door, he used her body to close it with a soft snap. “I’m going to say this once, then we’ll sit, have tea, and finish my translations. No more teasing, no more verbal fencing. I’ll not address the issue again unless you want me to.” He leaned and whispered in her ear, “You’re in control, Miss Mowbray, how does that feel?”
Her shoulders rose and fell on a hushed breath, her arm quivering in his hold. “You know how it feels. In a world built for men, it feels wonderful.”
He braced his hand against the door, palm flat, fingers spread. He wanted to be steady—and he wanted her to listen. “I’m in love with you, Raine. My first and only love.” When she went to lower her gaze, he tipped her chin high with his free hand. He’d never realized how much taller he was, how slim and delicate she was. He felt empowered and frightened by his depth of feeling. To protect, to possess. “Penny told me if I could look you in the eye and tell you I didn’t want you, I was on the right path. I could leave Hartland Abbey and never look back. Well, I obviously can’t do that. And I won’t leave without knowing I told you everything that’s in my heart and my mind. A silly misunderstanding is not going to be the reason you run from me.” He smoothed his thumb over her bottom lip as she blinked, fighting, he could see, the impulse to look away. “My father was a harsh taskmaster. Cruel. My mother tried to assuage his temper, which made for a most miserable existence. Walking on broken bits of china, always. Cholera decimated our village when I was fifteen, and within two weeks, I had no one. My beloved brother, who’d hoped to go into business with me, gone. My mother, everyone, gone.”
Tears sparked her eyes. “Kit, you don’t have to tell me this.”
“Oh, yes, I do. I absolutely do. You said we don’t know each other well, so here I am. Like my tools, laid out on the duke’s desk, ready for inspection.” He curled his fingers into a fist against the door. “Tavistock House was a desperate destination, though I had nowhere else to go. The earl not far from my father in temperament, unfortunately, which I could no longer countenance. I knew within three days of arrival that I couldn’t stay. He was wretched and…I loathed him almost as much as I feared him. I’d been offered an apprenticeship with a watchmaker, one I decided to accept without delay.” Laughing, he pressed a playful kiss to her cheek. “Then, I saw you. The very night I sent the note to Cambridge announcing my plans to arrive, there you were. In that darkened corner, bathed in moonlight, pressing a book against the globe of an oil lamp. I was like a butterfly caught in a net, immediate entrapment. Visceral. Gut-deep. Final. You must believe me. I beg you to believe me when I say I knew in one second that you were the only woman for me. It sounds like something out of a fairy tale, but it was true for me.”