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

“I don’t want to talk to you,” she said sullenly, raising one unsteady hand to brush away her tears.

“Too bad,” he said easily, dropping to sit beside her. The urge to take her into his arms gnawed, but after last night, he was uncertain about touching her. It was patently obvious that she was still furious. Rightly so, he reluctantly admitted.

“Leave me alone,” she muttered, burying her head in the arms she propped on her knees.

“No,” he said in the same pleasant tone. He rubbed his hand over his bristly jaw. He needed a wash and a shave. He needed a clear conscience. None were likely to come his way in the next little while. “Tell me why you’re crying.”

“I don’t have to tell a liar and a fraud anything. If you had the sensitivity of a… a brick, you’d go away. Far, far away.”

He winced at her description. But how could he leave her when she was unhappy? Her tears made him feel like she peeled his skin away an inch at a time.

Still pretending serenity, he stretched his legs out and propped his bare shoulders against the roof sloping behind them. Light was dim in this corner. Which was undoubtedly why she’d chosen it. He sneezed again. All this movement kicked up a devil of a dust storm. “I’m a blockhead of a man, my darling. No sensitivity at all.”

She glared at him out of eyes swimming with tears. “I hate you.”

His heart clenched into an excruciating fist, but he made himself sound calm, uninvolved. “I’m sure I deserve it. Did I make you cry?”

“As if you could.”

The temper narrowing her eyes was an improvement. His lips stretched in a wry smile. “That’s a relief.” He paused. “If not me, who?”

With her hair covered in dust and cobwebs and her face stained with tears, she seemed heartbreakingly young. He had a glimpse of the child Genevieve, mourning her mother in the hidden temple. She’d have been a difficult girl, curious, intelligent, prickly. Adorable.

She scowled. “Why don’t you mind your own business?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” He dared to tug a wisp of hay from her untidy hair. He was a scoundrel to find encouragement when she accepted the intimacy. “You may as well tell me. I’m not going anywhere until you do.”

Briefly he thought she might resist. After all, they were both aware that he had no real claim on her. Resentment firmed her jaw, offset by her mouth’s vulnerable softness. “My father wants me to marry Lord Neville.”

“Like hell he does!” Richard stared at her, too disgusted to be angry, although anger lurked close.

“I told him to ban Fairbrother from the house.” Hopelessness glazed her eyes.

She looked so alone. Genevieve against the world. Richard longed to stand as her champion. But to his regret, his lies made the offer unconscionable. She wouldn’t believe him anyway.

“So he should. What about the abduction?”

Her delicate throat moved as she swallowed. “Apparently I exaggerate.”

Richard began to stand. “I’ll tell him exactly what happened. He can’t keep living in Cloud Cuckoo Land. You’re not safe as long as Fairbrother’s got the run of the house.”

She grabbed his arm, dragging him down again. “No.”

Despite his wish to play the gallant protector, he was only human. Her touch shuddered through him like lightning. “He won’t listen to me because he knows I’m not Christopher Evans?”

She shook her head and her hand tightened around his bare bicep. Dear God, how he wished he’d rescued his shirt last night. Sitting here half-naked gave him too many ideas. “I didn’t tell him who you are. He’s had so many shocks lately.”

Just like Genevieve to consider the old man’s feelings, no matter how badly he’d treated her. Richard’s shoulders relaxed with ill-deserved relief. He’d assumed that today the vicar would show him the door and he’d have to scuttle back to Leighton Court.

“Then why can’t I add my account?” How it must chafe that her father wouldn’t accept her word. Or perhaps the old reprobate did, but refused to jeopardize his comfort.

She blushed and looked away, releasing him, although the imprint of her fingers lingered like a brand. His gut knotted when he realized that she was deathly ashamed. “He might wonder what we got up to last night.”

Privately Richard thought the selfish old haddock wouldn’t care what his daughter did as long as it didn’t affect his convenience. “I gave one of Cam’s footmen a note for the duke, saying that if the vicar asked, I returned to Leighton Court and you slept at the vicarage. It was the best I could do to save your reputation.”

She didn’t look particularly reassured as she faced him directly. “I wish you’d go. I’ll never sell you the jewel. You destroyed any chance of charming it away from me last night.”

He gave a huff of hollow laughter. God help him, he’d moved way beyond conniving to obtain the jewel. Right now, he’d happily fling the blasted gewgaw into Sedgemoor’s pond and applaud as it disappeared into the mud. It had caused nothing but trouble.