Page 42 of Tempting the Earl

“Unfortunately, my father underestimated his wife’s utter lack of concern for him or anything he did. When my mother didn’t crumble and cry at his feet at the news of his infidelity, he exiled her. It wasn’t until after his death that I discovered just how intently he’d continued to pursue retribution.”

Ainsworth’s stomach churned with anger at a sickening realization. “He set out to fill Britain with his bastards,” she noted softly.

“With disturbing detail, he recorded every attempt in his journals and took pride in his successes.” His gaze flickered. “I’m honestly a bit surprised there aren’t more. But he always noted if and when he received confirmation of a babe being born. Then he’d completely disregard both mother and child to seek out his next conquest. I suppose I can be grateful there was enough information for me to follow up on his claims. To find my siblings.” He straightened his posture. “To somehow offer reparations for his actions.”

Ainsworth was stunned. For someone to be so selfish and consumed by hatred that they’d ruin countless lives...was barely comprehensible. The prior earl had been a monster. And she didn’t wish to spend another moment thinking of the wretched man.

The current earl, however, did deserve her regard.

She stepped closer to him. “You know, you didn’t deserve his horrid treatment any more than they did.”

The earl squared his shoulders as tension flattened his lips. “I’ve nothing to complain about. My life is ridiculously charmed. I’m the earl, for God’s sake. Wealthy beyond most people’s imagining. I own estates and horses and a cellar full of the finest brandy. I’ve never had to beg for a meal or fight for my place in a world set to revile me.”

“Perhaps,” she acknowledged. “But a charmed life doesn’t guarantee a happy one.”

“Happiness is a rare condition for just about anyone.”

“I was happy. Back at Faeglen.”

His sharp blue gaze snared hers, causing a swift tingling along her nerves.

“And now?” he asked.

Ainsworth drew in a long breath. She certainly wasn’t happy to be in the current situation. But she couldn’t say she was unhappy, either. As she struggled to sort through the confusing emotions she’d been experiencing since coming to London—or to be more accurate, since the day she’d spotted the Earl of Wright in her hen yard—her earlier frustration came rolling back in.

Frowning, she met his patient stare. “Now, I’m apprehensive.”

That line formed again between his brows but didn’t immediately smooth away like it usually did. “Because you distrust me.”

She couldn’t allow his low, troubled tone of voice to affect her. He’d been honest with her. She would do the same. “I distrust the machine that is London society. Even if you’ve the highest of intentions, we both ken there’s no guarantee Caillie willnae be hurt by her association with this family.”

His lips pressed together as he drew a breath through his nose. When he spoke, his tone was even but forced. “Of course, there can be no such guarantee. But she is a part of this family. And I will be there for her, every step forward and every step back. Any bit of hurt she receives will be countered ten times over.”

She believed him.

And she would have verbally acknowledged that fact if she didn’t suddenly notice just how close they now stood. As his intent and focused gaze speared straight into the very core of her being where heat swirled with sudden confusion, she became instantly mesmerized. By the sparks dancing through the depths of his eyes and the ferocity of conviction in his voice. By the flare of his nostrils and the sudden bunching of muscles at the corners of his jaw. By the strength in his stance and the quiet yet powerful energy that emanated from him.

Noting the last, her body responded with an instant tightening. A delicious twisting.

Her gaze dropped to his lips. They looked so soft and smooth and firm. The curves and arches so intriguing. But how would they feel?

She had to know.

Unable to stop herself, she reached up to take his handsome face in her hands then rose up on her toes and pulled his mouth to hers.

Losh! His lips were bluidy amazing. She could feel each dip and curve as they fit against her own. But not well enough. If only she could trace them with her tongue.

The intensity of the inclination surprised her. She abruptly pulled back.

Eyes wide, she stared at him, inches away, her hands still framing his face. Her breath puffed out before catching on the next swift inhale. Heat burned through her—not the pleasant kind—as she realized he’d stood utterly still during her impulsive kiss. His hands were at his sides and his spine remained straight and unbending. Just his head had been lowered toward hers in order to meet her silent demand for his mouth.

Her stomach dropped. He must think her totally gone in the head.

She withdrew her hands from the warmth of his skin, but before she could step back, something bright and slightly frightening flared in his eyes. With a swiftly drawn inhale through his nose, he stepped into her, pressing his body full against hers. At the same time, he wrapped both arms around her waist and lifted her as he covered her mouth with his.

Her kiss had been an impulse triggered by curiosity.

This kiss was fired and fueled by something else altogether.

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