Page 32 of The Earl

Chapter 14

Staring at the side of the tent, Cait touched her fingers to her lips. She’d done so at least a dozen times since Conrad had left. Would he come back? She so badly wanted him to, but it was late, and he was stubborn. While he was gone, she’d snuck out to retrieve her belongings and then removed the tight surcoat Sabine had found for her. The garment had been too tight around her breasts for her to sleep in it. Perhaps she’d wear her riding gown tomorrow, now that she’d revealed herself.

If he lets you stay.

She ran her fingers over lips, remembering how his lips had felt. Never had she imagined kissing Conrad would feel so . . . wicked. Colin had kissed her, twice in fact, but he hadn’t used his tongue either time. In fact, it was after that second kiss, in the stables of Bradon Moor, that she’d decided to return to England.

Her brother had been preparing for the voyage for days. The idea, once it had taken root, had refused to leave her thoughts. She’d penned a quick note to her mother and left. That time, she was not the only woman in the group. Cait had gotten farther because of it—she’d blended in with the other wives, although they had, of course, known she was among them.

A blast of air at her back announced his arrival.

Conrad was back.

She sat up, reaching a hand out to him lest he leave before speaking to her. But there seemed little chance of that. He took a few steps toward her and stood over her, watching as if he wished to speak. But he did not.

Cait moved to the edge of the bedroll and patted the space beside her.

Conrad shook his head.

She slid to the other end of the bedroll, where her feet had been, and patted the empty space again.

He paused, for just a moment, and then he sat.

A faint smell of smoke drifted toward her. So he’d sat by the fire after tending to the wounded man. Had he considered not coming back to her?

“I thought perhaps you’d not come.”

His look said he nearly had not.

“I would not blame you. It was wretched of me not to write to you. Not to explain.”

He didn’t make a sound.

This time, Cait had thought of what she would say. In fact, she’d thought of little else since their talk in the buttery, and while she did not have the answers he sought, not precisely, she would try her best to explain.

“I did not . . .” She pulled her legs underneath her. “I knew I did not deserve you.”

It was much easier to say these things in her head than it was to share them with Conrad when he sat so near, looking weary, interested, and extremely handsome. He’d always been the most assured man Cait had ever known. Even more so than Terric, if such a thing were possible.

How had she ever had the courage to ask this man to meet her privately?

“You are a man whose legend grew every time my brother spoke of your feats . . . your ideas. When your father died”—how did she explain this?—“you became an earl.”

His brows drew together, but otherwise, Conrad said nothing.

“I am the only daughter, the sister, of a chief. After what happened, my brother became even more protective of me. I . . . trusted no one, save my family. Save you. Words have never come easily to me, even when they’re required.”

“When you wrote, they came easily enough.” His harsh tone startled her. How could she know him so well, and not at all?

“One of the reasons, I think, for the letters. I’d never spoken with anyone, even in my family, so openly. Although we hadn’t spent much time together in person, I felt as if I could confess anything to you, and you’d write to reassure me.”

These weren’t the words she’d practiced.

“I mean to say . . .”

“Why did you come now, Cait?”

She licked her lips and noticed his eyes darken with desire. But Cait had not meant it as a provocation. She was simply unsure how to form the words. How to explain herself when her attention was so diverted by the solid, handsome presence at the other end of her bedroll.