Page 91 of Tempting the Earl

She gave him her back again and tugged the brush even more forcefully through her long, wavy locks.

He’d never been more confused in his life. “Then what do you want?” he asked.

“What do you want, Colin?” she asked sharply.

He couldn’t answer. Not when he’d spent his life keeping such things carefully concealed so they couldn’t be used against him.

“Has anyone ever asked you that, I wonder.” Her voice was considerably softer.

As he stood tense and uncertain, his heart beating like a steel drum, his stomach knotted, she slowly turned to face him. Looking directly into his eyes, she asked again, “What do you want?”

Pressure welled inside him, steadily pressing outward from his core. It was painful and frighteningly similar to how he’d felt so often as a young child—before he’d learned to disengage from pointless hope and fruitless yearning. It took every bit of his willpower to suppress it and keep it contained. But he managed. Just barely.

“I want you to do what is best for you,” he finally replied.

She sighed then. A heavy sound. Then her eyes flickered toward the clock. “It’s getting late,” she said suddenly as she turned back to the vanity. “Gracie will be arriving any minute to help me dress. She cannae find you here.”

She was right, of course.

Then again...if they were discovered like this, Ainsworth would have to stay.

No. He immediately began to redress. Not like that.

Before leaving the room as silently as he’d entered, he turned to look at her.

She was seated in front of the vanity, brushing her hair. He couldn’t see her reflection in the mirror from where he stood, but it seemed to him as though her body were poised in anticipation of something. As though she were...waiting. And not very patiently.

As the clock struck the hour, he forced himself to leave, despite every instinct inside him willing him to stay.

Chapter Thirty-one

Dinner was as challenging as Ainsworth expected it to be. The only aspect that went at all well was the interaction between Caillie and Mr. Thomas. Though the young man seemed to have a naturally dark and somber manner, he spoke easily with his sister, who didn’t even attempt to hide her enthusiasm over having him stay at Wright House.

The girl tried several times to engage Mr. Thomas in a conversation with the earl, but the man was clearly still reluctant to trust his eldest brother. At least he was here, and Ainsworth knew from personal experience that, in time, the earl would prove to Thomas his intentions were honest and noble.

Ainsworth was grateful Caillie’s attention was directed so completely toward Mr. Thomas considering the most awkward aspect of the night was definitely the tension between herself and the earl.

They both did their best to speak civilly to each other throughout the meal, but there remained an underlying thread of intense discomfort.

Ainsworth was fully aware of the cause, but as she caught the earl’s gaze a few times during the night and searched for some sort of clarity in the striking blue, she simply couldn’t be sure if he fully understood what had transpired earlier in her bedroom.

She hadn’t even realized it at first.

When she’d initially mentioned leaving, she’d truly believed it was what should happen.

Despite the impression she might have given at the onset, she’d never wanted to stand in the way of Caillie establishing a relationship with her brothers. Now that she had full faith the earl and Roderick, and even Mr. Thomas, had Caillie’s best interests at heart, her continued residence in London really did seem unnecessary and perhaps even a wee bit of a hindrance to Caillie developing true bonds with her new family. The girl would always feel compelled to consider Ainsworth’s needs, and Ainsworth didn’t want that to hold her back.

Even as rational as her thought process was at the time, as soon as she’d spoken aloud the idea of leaving, a sick dread had filled her heart. She didn’t want to leave. And as soon as she acknowledged that, she was forced to acknowledge the reason behind it. And she’d held her breath, hoping the earl would convince her to stay.

He hadn’t even tried. And that had hurt—far more than she could ever have anticipated as her true vulnerability regarding the man was revealed. Until, that is, she’d turned to really look at him and noticed every telltale sign in his appearance.

The truth had been obvious in the taut, unmoving frame of his body, the clenching of his jaw, and the occasional brief appearance of that line between his brows despite the utter lack of emotion present in his features and the flat effect of his gaze. And especially in the way he firmly grasped his hands behind his back. It all so clearly indicated to her just how badly he wanted to go to her, reach for her, touch her. And exactly how much effort it took to stop himself from doing so.

He wanted her to stay.

Yet he’d said nothing to keep her.

It’d be totally infuriating if it wasn’t so bluidy sad.

---