Page 58 of How to Fall for a Scoundrel
He leaned in, and Ellie met him halfway, opening her lips beneath his in sheer relief that he was there, alive. She’d been so close to losing him, and her heart gave a painful squeeze at the thought of a world without him in it.
She ran her hands over his chest, needing the reassurance that he truly wasn’t hurt, and her fingertip caught in the hole left by the near-fatal bullet. Her heart missed a beat, and she kissed him fiercely, desperately, pouring all her relief and gladness into it. Realization washed over her like a rogue wave.
Dear God, she loved him!
Ellie gasped against his mouth at the shocking revelation. She—sensible, law-abiding, risk-averse Eleanor Law—had fallen irrevocably in love with a nameless, shameless scoundrel!
Oh, this was a disaster.
Their case had been solved. The Book of Hours would be returned to Bullock—albeit with a little damage to the front cover. What if Harry decided to move on to pastures new? What if today’s near-miss convinced him that life was more important than solving crimes? What if he decided to take the easy route and simply enjoy his riches without risking his neck?
She’d almost told him she loved him, but now she was perversely glad she hadn’t, because she had no idea whether he felt anything remotely similar for her. He was infuriatingly difficult to read. He’d obviously found her attractive enough to make love to her, so he presumably desired her physically, but would he lose interest now that she’d given herself to him?
Ellie gave a hopeless little moan and kissed him again, savoring the precious moment as if it were the last. The embrace turned a little wild as he responded, his tongue delving deeper as he pressed her back against the cushions of the sofa.
“Let’s go upstairs,” he whispered, “and I’ll show you how glad I am to be alive.”
“Yes.”
He stood, and had just pulled her to her feet when Hugo jolted awake with a snort, and the two of them swung guiltily toward him.
“Oof. Must’ve dozed off.” Hugo’s voice was slow and a little slurred, presumably the effects of the laudanum. He ran his hand over his face, then winced in pain as he clearly tweaked his injury. “Harry, m’boy, I think I’ll go and have a little lie down upstairs.”
Harry exhaled at the interruption, but he released Ellie’s hand, and went to help his friend. “Come on then, up with you. I’ll see about getting a doctor to check you over.”
“You’re the very best of nephews,” Hugo murmured.
Ellie blinked, certain she’d misheard. “The best what?”
Hugo looked immediately guilty, as if he realized he’d said something he shouldn’t.
“Did you say he’s your nephew?” Ellie repeated.
Hugo let out a wheezing chuckle as he pushed himself to his feet. He looked like a naughty puppy. “Well, that’sdone it. The cat’s out of the bag. Yes, Harry here is my nephew.”
Ellie studied his face, then glanced at Harry, and she couldn’t believe she hadn’t made the connection before. Ofcoursethe two of them were related. They had the same cheeky dimples, the same cocky, charming manner. They even shared the same gestures.
“So your name is Harry Ambrose?” she said to Harry.
“Not exactly.” For the first time since she’d met him, Harry actually looked uncomfortable, and Hugo laughed.
“No. Hisfullname is—”
“Stop! I haven’t told her!” Harry blustered, but it was too late.
“—Henry James Charles Brooke,” Hugo said happily. “And he’s the twelfth Earl of Cobham. Isn’t that right, my boy?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ellie glanced at Harry, sure he was about to burst out laughing and chide Hugo for the joke, but instead he sent his uncle a filthy glare.
“I wasn’t ready to tell her!”
“It’s true?” she gasped. “Wait… Is thisyourhouse? Are you the ‘lost earl’?”
Harry ran his hands through his hair. “I am.”
She backed away from him as disbelief melted into fury at his deception.