“You love me.”
She’d never heard that tone before. Perhaps he offered her a chance to save her dignity. But having made the admission, she balked at denial. “Yes.”
She stifled the urge to excuse or qualify. Rigid with humiliation, she braced for his response. If he was kind out of pity, she’d vomit.
A slow smile curled his lips. He looked happy. In fact, he looked completely elated. The silence extended until she wanted to scream. Still he smiled as though she was a magical treasure created solely for his delight.
“You love me.”
For heaven’s sake, hadn’t they been through this? “Yes,” she snapped.
He wasn’t usually slow of understanding. Unless he was being deliberately cruel, she couldn’t see why he belabored the point. He relaxed back and stretched his long legs toward her, every line of his body expressing satisfaction. “Well, I think that’s altogether a fine thing.”
“Do you now?” she asked on a dangerous note. She’d imagined nothing could be worse than pity. This strange, sardonic pleasure made her seethe.
He bent his good arm behind his head and regarded her with a lazy amusement that she couldn’t like. How could she possibly love this ruffian? He should be hanged at the crossroads. “By Jove, I do.”
“Well, good for you,” she said bitterly.
His smile became, if anything, more beatific. “Don’t you want to know why it’s a fine thing?”
“Not particularly,” she said sourly.
“It’s quite simple.”
“Like you,” she sniped, clutching unsteady hands in her skirts and telling herself she really, really couldn’t thump him.
“Harsh.” He leaned farther back, as comfortable as if he lolled on one of Sedgemoor’s elegant chaises. “I’ll tell you anyway.”
“I’m all ears,” she said sarcastically.
“I love you too.”
“Charming.”
Then she realized what he’d said. She stared at the beautiful, bedraggled man lounging against the tomb.
His smile developed a wicked edge. “Don’t tell me you’re lost for words. I never thought I’d see the day.”
“What did you say?” she choked out, faltering toward him on legs that felt made of string.
“You heard.”
“I’d like to hear it again.”
His smile faded and she saw that under the teasing, he was as serious as she’d ever seen him. “I love you, Genevieve.”
Radiant serenity slowly replaced turmoil. She’d never imagined him saying those words; now they struck her with the pure truth she found when she completed a perfect translation or comprehended the symbols on a carved ivory.
His face darkened with desperation. “If you don’t kiss me in the next ten seconds, I swear I’ll combust.”
She didn’t move. She wasn’t sure her legs would support her. “That might be interesting.”
“Genevieve,” he groaned, rising to his knees and extending his good hand toward her. “Stop torturing me. I know I deserve it. I know I’ve been a bad, bad man. But have mercy.”
“Oh, Richard,” she sighed. Her feet hardly touching the ground, she flew across the distance between them.
Chapter Thirty-Three