“He left about twenty minutes ago, I suppose. Should we look for him?”
“He’s too smart to get lost.”
Candlelight flared. “I should check the stone.”
“It can wait. Cam will find us.” Richard didn’t say what they both understood—that she was unlikely to locate a convenient lever or button. Lord Neville might be a knave, but he was a deuced clever knave. He’d ensure that their prison was secure.
Richard grabbed her trembling hand. “I need to touch you.”
Her frown melted into the smile he adored. “Yes, so romantic here among the decaying monks. Is that sound the rattling of bones or my beating heart?”
He laughed softly. Oh, she was brave. She was brave and beautiful and far too good for him, which didn’t mean he wouldn’t fight to keep her.
“Anywhere with you is romantic, darling.” He raised her grimy hand and kissed her knuckles.
She shot him a skeptical glance. “I’m sure.”
His courage failed at confessing that he meant it. “It sticks in my craw that Fairbrother got the jewel.”
“Yes.” One word, yet her detached tone pricked his instincts.
“You’re taking the loss very calmly. It’s incredibly valuable.”
She shrugged. “What use is gold here?”
His gaze sharpened. He didn’t trust her neutral expression. “What’s going on, Genevieve?”
“Nothing.” The corners of her lips deepened, bolstering his suspicion.
“Tell me.”
She pulled free. “Lord Neville didn’t get what he bargained for.”
Richard frowned. “You gave him the jewel.”
Amusement warmed her voice. “Do you remember I said that my article would establish my academic reputation?”
It seemed a non sequitur. “Of course.” He remembered every word she’d said.
“My discovery was quite a coup. The Harmsworth Jewel is so famous. Not to mention very beautiful.”
“And precious.”
“And precious.” Her smile intensified. “And a forgery.”
He stared at her in shocked silence. Then he started to laugh.
Genevieve hadn’t been sure how he’d respond to learning that he’d been mistaken about his heirloom. A lesser man—someone like Lord Neville—would be livid. Disappointment or dismay would be perfectly understandable. But when Richard Harmsworth discovered that he’d pursued a chimera, he reacted with an unfettered enjoyment that set her heart singing.
He laughed so hard that he bent over his raised knees. He ran out of breath and still whooped. She should make him stop. Surely this explosive mirth must damage his arm. But she couldn’t bear to.
From the bottom of her soul, words she’d sworn never to say bubbled up, unstoppable as a flood. “Oh, Richard, how I do love you.”
The moment the declaration left her lips, she was frantic to snatch it back. Humiliation closed her throat. Women from Land’s End to John O’Groats must declare their devotion to Richard Harmsworth. She hated that she was just one more silly female head over heels with him.
Abruptly his laughter stopped and he stared at her with an expression she couldn’t interpret. After his hilarity, the echoing silence seemed bottomless.
Furious with herself, she rose on shaky legs and stepped out of the light. Her fists clenched so hard at her sides that the nails scored her palms.