Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 157450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
Alessia clears her throat. “I was so scared. I thought I’d never see you again. But my biggest…um, sorrow…um, regret,” she whispers, “was that…was that I never told you that I love you.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Joy bursts like a million fireworks within me from head to foot. Its intensity leaves me breathless. I can’t quite believe it. “You do?”
“Yes,” Alessia whispers with a timid smile.
“Since when?”
She pauses and lifts a shoulder in a coy shrug. “Since you gave me the umbrella.”
I beam at her. “I felt so good about that. Your wet footprints were all over my hall. So…are you saying you’ll stay?”
“Yes.”
“Here?”
“Yes.”
“I’m so very glad to hear that, my love.” I brush her bottom lip with my thumb and lean down to kiss her. I place my lips on hers, gently, but she ignites around me, her fervor taking me by surprise. Her lips and tongue are greedy, urgent, her hands are in my hair, tugging and twisting. She wants more. So much more. I groan as my body comes alive, and I deepen the kiss, taking everything she has to offer. There’s a desperate quality to her demanding mouth. She’s needy. And I want to be the one to fulfill her need. My hands move into her hair, holding her still, steadying her, slowing our pace. I want to take her, here, now, on the landing.
Alessia.
My arousal is instant.
I want her.
I need her.
I love her.
But…she’s been through hell. She winces when I run my hand down her side. And her reaction brings me to my senses.
“No…” I whisper, and she pulls back, giving me a carnal but bewildered and disappointed look.
“You’re hurt,” I explain.
“I’m okay.” She’s breathless, and she cranes her neck to kiss me again.
“Let’s just take a moment,” I whisper, and I rest my forehead on hers. “You’ve had a horrible morning.” She’s extremely emotional, and her ardor may be a direct reaction to being roughed up by those arseholes.
The thought is sobering.
Or maybe it’s because she loves me.
I like that idea better.
We stand forehead to forehead as we each catch our breath.
She strokes my cheek, then tilts her head to one side, and a hint of a smile plays on her lips. “You are the Earl of Trevethick?” she teases. “When were you going to tell me?” There’s a mischievous twinkle in her eye, and I laugh out loud, knowing that she’s echoing my question from the other night.
“I’m telling you now.”
She grins and taps her lip with her finger. I turn and wave theatrically to the portrait that dates from 1667. “May I introduce Edward, the first Earl of Trevethick. And that gentleman”—I point to the other painting with my thumb—“that’s my father, the eleventh earl. He was a farmer and a photographer, too. And he was an ardent Chelsea supporter, so I’m not sure what he would have made of your Arsenal top.”
Alessia gives me a puzzled look.
“They are rival London football teams.”
“Oh, no.” She laughs. “Where is your portrait?”
“I don’t have one. I haven’t been the earl for very long. My older brother, Kit. He was the real earl. But he never got around to having his portrait painted.”
“Your brother who died?”
“Yes. The title and everything that comes with it were his responsibility until a few weeks ago. I wasn’t meant for the role, for all…this.” I tilt my head toward the suits of armor. “Running this place—this museum—it’s all new to me.”
“Is that why you didn’t tell me?” Alessia asks.
“It’s one of the reasons. I think part of me is in denial. All this, and the other estates, it’s a lot of responsibility, and I’ve not been trained for it.”
Whereas Kit was….
This conversation is getting too deep and too close to home. I continue with a slight smile. “I’m very lucky. I’ve never really had to work before, and now all this is mine. And I have to maintain it for the next generation. It’s my duty.” I give her an apologetic shrug. “This is who I am. And now you know. And I’m glad you’ve decided to stay.”
“My lord?” Danny calls up from below.
* * *
Maxim’s shoulders sag a little. Alessia senses that he wants to be left alone. “Yes, Danny?” he answers.
“The doctor is here to see Alessia.”
Maxim turns an anxious gaze to her. “Doctor?”
“I’m okay,” Alessia says, hesitantly.
He frowns. “Send her up to the blue room.”
“It’s not Dr. Carter, it’s Dr. Conway, sir. I’ll send him up right away, my lord.”
“Thank you,” Maxim calls down to Danny, and he takes Alessia’s hand. “What did that bastard do to you?”
Alessia can’t look him in the eye. She feels ashamed, ashamed that she’s brought this horror into Maxim’s life. “He kicked me,” she whispers. “Danny wanted the doctor to see this.” She lifts the side of her Arsenal shirt to reveal a vivid red mark that’s the size of a woman’s fist.