Page 12 of Tempting the Earl

“London is a cold, hard, compassionless place,” she continued darkly. “And yet, you wish to bring her right into the heart of that.”

His expression remained unflinching as he spoke in a hard but level tone. “Miss Morgan, I appreciate your protective instincts, and I understand your desire to ensure her happiness considering all the tragedy that surrounded her birth. But she is my sister. I cannot go back and change my father’s actions, and I cannot alter the fact that I only recently learned of her existence.” A frown briefly darkened his features before being quickly smoothed away. His eyes were intensely blue as he stared down at her. “But I know now. And I’m here now. And no matter how much you may desire it, I’m not going to simply disappear. It is my duty to ensure she receives what is hers by right.”

Heart racing, she planted her hands firmly on her hips. “And what’s that exactly?”

“Acknowledgement,” he replied readily. “An education suitable for a young lady.”

Ainsworth couldn’t hold back her snort.

His eyes narrowed but he went on. “An appropriate dowry. And an introduction to society when the time is right.”

Her stomach twisted. “And will you also ensure she receives the customary social derision and ridicule for being born a bastard?”

He visibly stiffened as the muscles in his jaw worked more swiftly. “I will protect her.”

“You cannae protect her from everything, my lord.”

“Neither can you,” he replied in a lowered tone that hit her straight in the center of her chest.

Her panic increased in the face of his obvious determination. Because she knew damned well she couldn’t stop him from taking Caillie if that’s what he wanted. She was just a distant cousin while he was her brother and an earl. He had the power to do whatever he wanted.

And she hated him for it.

“I can protect her from you,” she said in a vehement whisper.

For a split second, the hard, detached facade fled his expression, allowing a brief and startling glimpse of something else. Something intense and powerful and far from emotionless. But then the mask was put firmly back in place. “I’m not the man he was.”

As she swept a scathing glance down to his boots then up again, a sharp frisson of intense awareness gripped her but she made sure only derision showed in her expression. Stepping forward until she had to tip her head back to meet his gaze with a glowering stare, she asked in a fierce whisper, “Aren’t you, though? You come all the way here with no invitation and no thought to the consequence of your action. You talk of duty and responsibility as you threaten to take a child from the only home she’s ever known and transplant her amongst cold, uncaring strangers.”

His expression was hard. Unmoving. Unfeeling.

“She won’t be abandoned to the wolves, Miss Morgan.”

“She’s free here,” Ainsworth continued passionately. “Free from the horrid and arbitrary rules the world would demand she follow. Free from all the labels and restrictions your society would insist upon bestowing. I won’t do that to her. Not when I worked so hard to give a life beyond such things—a life of possibilities.”

“She will have every resource and protection I can provide.”

“Caillie doesnae need anything from you. She has me.”

For a flashing moment, his steady stoicism fractured, allowing just a glimpse of what thrived beneath. His gaze narrowed dangerously and the line of his jaw became hard and sharply defined. The change in him surprised her. As did the force and frustration in his expression. The sheer intensity of it made her heart race wildly as she fought to retain her ground.

She’d been taunting him from the moment he’d arrived. Her rudeness and derision had been displayed for maximum effect to ensure he knew exactly how she felt about his intrusion. And through it all, he’d maintained an unbreakable steadiness. There’d been brief glimpses of his tension in a quickly furrowed brow or a swift clenching of his teeth, but for the most part, he’d displayed a consistently level gaze and a calm, patient manner.

So, this—this glorious display of temper and fire—was utterly unexpected. He seemed a different person. The power of his sudden passion and intensity shocked her in a physical way. Her body lit up in reaction. Her muscles hummed and her blood rushed a bit faster.

“She is the daughter of the Earl of Wright and my sister,” he stated in a sharp, commanding tone that sent a shiver across her nape. “That is all I need to insist she come to London. Whether you like it or not.”

The strength of her panic broke through her inexplicable reaction to his sudden forcefulness. “She willnae go.”

“Aye, Worthy, I will.”

Ainsworth’s heart stopped with a painful force. The lass’s clear voice obliterated the ferocity of her stand against the earl.

Turning in place, she saw Caillie standing proud and willful in the doorway. God help her, she knew that look of stubborn determination. Closing her eyes, she released her breath on a heavy, aching sigh.

“On one condition.”

Opening her eyes, Ainsworth forced herself to breathe as the lass approached them both where they stood toe to toe like commanders on a battlefield.

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