A Rake's Midnight Kiss (Sons of Sin 2)

Too late. Too late.

He braced as if expecting a blow. But he owed her the foul, damaging truth. His voice emerged as flat as Lincolnshire. “I’m not who you think I am.”

“I know you’re not,” she said equally expressionlessly. “You’re the thief who broke into the vicarage and locked me in.”

Bloody hell. She knew? Astonished, he turned. She studied him with severe, focused attention. Against expectations, she didn’t appear to hate him. Yet. “What did you say?”

“You broke into the vicarage.”

“The first time. Never after that,” he said quickly, before reminding himself that he could only seek absolution after a full confession.

He didn’t deserve absolution. How he wished he could take back the last hour. Or more accurately he wished that he wished he could take it back. His unparalleled satisfaction didn’t outweigh his long overdue scruples.

Then the significance of what she’d said struck like a hammer on brass. “How the hell do you know?”

Her lips curved in an unamused smile, although her gaze remained watchful. “You’re not as clever as you think you are.”

That was something she didn’t need to tell him. “Apparently.” He struggled to order reeling thoughts. “How long have you known? Not from the first, surely? You wouldn’t have let me move in.”

He saw her consider making such a claim, but she was much more honest than he. “The first time we kissed.”

Another shock shuddered through him. “What did I do?”

“It wasn’t what you did. It was how you smelled.” Despite the fraught moment, a reminiscent light entered her lovely eyes. “Lemon verbena.”

“Blast. I was so careful.”

“The dyed hair fooled me for a while.”

He wasn’t made for subterfuge. He should have realized that a woman as sharp as Genevieve would quickly penetrate his disguise. Still he had more questions than answers. “Why in heaven’s name didn’t you say something? Especially after the other break-ins.”

“I waited to see what you were up to.”

Unable to resist touching her, he lunged for her hand. There was a distinct possibility after he told her everything that she’d never let him touch her again. “I could be a villain of the worst sort.”

“I’m not sure that you aren’t.” She tried to break free, but he, being the villain he claimed, wouldn’t let her go. “The best explanation I can come up with is that you’re working for Sir Richard Harmsworth to get me to sell the jewel. Although your efforts have been fairly half-hearted. You could have blackmailed me about my father’s work. Lord Neville tried to.”

Fleeting disgust distracted him. “The devil he did.”

She nodded. “But you didn’t. Are you working for Sir Richard?”

His stomach felt like it was made of lead. In his mouth, self-hatred tasted like rusty nails. He groaned again and buried his head in his knees, resting his brow on their clasped hands. He’d never loved her so desperately as now when he faced eternal banishment. Once she found out who he was, she’d never forgive him. “It’s worse than that, my darling.”

Her voice shook with trepidation. “Tell me.”

He braced as though expecting the roof of the charming summerhouse to collapse. Of course the temple wouldn’t collapse. What collapsed was his life and hopes.

He raised his head and spoke quickly to lessen the pain. “I am Richard Harmsworth.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

I’m so stupid,” Genevieve whispered.

Of course he was Richard Harmsworth. It was both the most obvious and simplest solution to the mystery of his interest in the Harmsworth Jewel. She snatched her hand free and rose on shaky legs.

“I’m sorry,” he said in such a low voice, she strained to hear. He stared at the hands linked around his knees. Even now, even after this revelation of his identity and how he’d misled her, she couldn’t stop her heart turning over at how beautiful he was.

“Is that enough?” Because the temptation to touch him remained so strong, she stepped away. She knew how his skin felt beneath her hand, smooth and warm and alive. She knew how his long muscles tightened and released when he moved. She couldn’t erase the experience of pleasure.