Apparently Jessie was not impressed. “In fact, when Lord Granville was shouting that you weren’t who you said you were, I decided he was telling the truth.”
She made him want to snarl—and he did. “If that’s what you believe, why didn’t you go with him?”
“When two men are telling lies, a woman has to make a decision whom to trust, and for me there was never a doubt. I trust you.” The wind tossed tendrils of hair about her delightful face. “I just don’t know who you are.”
&nb
sp; She managed to make him feel foolish, and there weren’t very many people who could do that. Taking a breath, he plunged into confession. “I’m the real…I’m your real suitor.” He held his breath, waiting for her reaction.
Covering her chest with her hand, she gasped, “The real Lord Granville!” Then she dropped the pretense of surprise. “On the path, I wondered if that wasn’t the case. The nose looks familiar, like one I might have broken.”
He grunted. She had to bring that up.
“Lord Granville. Sent by my father and your mother to be my fiancé.” Her delectable lips curled derisively. “I wonder why they thought I would have you.”
“You’ve got a wicked tongue.”
“So you said last night.” She chuckled. “Well, my Lord Granville, what have you been doing all these years while your poor mother tended your lands?”
He poked morosely at the body on the sand. “Attracting trouble, it seems.”
“Making enemies. Getting shot at and stabbed. Watching every word, learning every exit, knowing far too much about escaping a villain. Do you know what I think? I think you’re a famous thief.”
“Of all the ridiculous …I am not a famous thief! I’m a spy.” And he had never blurted that out in his entire life.
She didn’t seem particularly surprised. “On which side?”
“England’s.”
“Yet a girl has to wonder why you didn’t tell me last night.”
“I keep secrets well.”
She considered him narrowly.
Apparently she wanted more than that. “I was an idiot.”
She hopped off the rock and strolled toward him, hips rolling, chin jutted out. “You’re still an idiot if you think you’re going off on your dangerous adventures without me. You’re wearing that faraway, noble expression that says you’re going to abandon me.”
“Not abandon you.”
“Pardon me. Go away and never see me again so I won’t be in harm’s way.” She poked him in the chest with her finger. “Your sense of honor makes me sick. And it’s not going to work, because wherever you go, I’ll go, too, and if you think I’m in danger in England, wait until you travel to India or Egypt or America. I’ll wager there are hundreds of men there who would kidnap me for their love slave.”
He broke into a sweat at the very thought. “You are not going to do that.”
“You can’t stop me. There’s only one thing that can stop me.”
“Let me hazard a guess. A ring around your finger?”
“More to the point, one around yours. A good, tight one. After all, a wedding ring is supposed to cut off your circulation.”
“Assassins,” he said incoherently.
“We’ll face them together. Surely your other spy friends sometimes marry.”
He thought of Throckmorton and Celeste. Of MacLean and Enid. Of their love. Of their devotion. Grudgingly, he admitted, “Sometimes.”
“I know you, Harry. You’ll protect me. You’re my chosen mate.”