“I know you hate me—”
“More frankness. Good heavens, Sir Richard, in no time at all you’ll pass as an honest man.”
His lips compressed, but he continued in the same reasonable tone. “But I never intended you harm.”
That was so patently untrue that she had to blink away hot, furious tears. She wouldn’t cry. Not now. Not ever. He wasn’t worth one tear. He wasn’t worth the dirt under her feet. “Take it.”
He frowned as if she spoke a foreign language. She shoved her hand at him like a punch. Her best efforts couldn’t
control her trembling. Given a choice, she’d pitch the jewel at him, but it was delicate and valuable and deserved better use than as a missile against a faithless lover. “Take it, and may you be damned.”
No wonder he’d been so interested in her research into the family legend. No wonder he’d contrived to make her his creature. But there were things he didn’t know about the jewel, things that would give her the last laugh. When her article appeared, she’d have her revenge.
If only the prospect was more satisfying. Right now, all she wanted to do was crawl into a dark corner and cry her eyes out, whether he was worth her tears or not. If the chance to huddle forever in that dark corner arose, she’d snatch it as fast as she expected Sir Richard to snatch the Harmsworth Jewel.
Although to be fair, he wasn’t acting like a heartless Machiavellian blackguard. Which did nothing to mollify her anger.
Very gently he cupped his hand under hers. Someone this cold-hearted should be clammy like a frog, but he was warm. Memories of those hands on her skin pricked at her determination to loathe him. She beat the weakness back, but with more difficulty than she liked.
“I don’t want it, Genevieve.”
She stiffened with horror. Did he guess the secret, the discovery that would make her article the talk of the academic world? Surely not. That was impossible, even for the great Sir Richard Harmsworth. “Of course you do.”
He shook his head and with more of that searing gentleness, he closed his hand, curling her fingers around the jewel. “Keep it.”
“Do you want me to beg you to take it? You overestimate your charm.”
He sighed. “Right now, I don’t feel very charming.”
Raising her hand, he kissed her knuckles. For one lost moment, yearning surged. Then she remembered his deceit and wrenched her hand away.
“You’ll regret this sacrifice after you’ve gone.”
He frowned. “Gone?”
“I want you out of my life.”
Stubbornly he shook his head. “No.”
She forced herself to confront her brazen behavior. “You’ll never touch me again. You’ve got everything that you’ll ever get.”
Unhappiness shadowed his face. “Genevieve, don’t torture yourself like this.”
Torture herself? How wrong could he be? She was a queen punishing an unruly subject. “Tonight was a mistake.”
He smiled slightly. It was the first hint of humor since he’d confessed his identity. “A magnificent mistake.”
She flushed. The horrid thought struck that tonight might result in repercussions. She’d known from the start that she played with fire, but it had seemed more important for Richard’s caresses to erase all traces of Lord Neville from her skin. Now she wondered at her idiocy. “I never want to see you again.”
His faint smile remained. “I’m sure that’s true, but you’re in danger. I won’t abandon you.”
She laughed harshly. “Who protects me from you?”
He didn’t react, although that muscle in his cheek continued its dance. “You have nothing to fear from me.”
“I’ll never offer you the jewel again.”
“You’re the only jewel I’m interested in.”