Page 36

Harriet sighed against him, her soft body molding to his as he strode across the threshold of her bedchamber.

He kicked the door shut behind them, blocking out the world beyond, leaving only the heat between them, the rapid beating of their hearts, the slow drag of breath as he inhaled the scent of her—warm, feminine, his .

But then, she stirred in his arms, shifting against his chest, pushing lightly against him. “Sebastian, let me down.”

He hesitated. The last thing he wanted was space between them. But the quiet urgency in her voice cut through his desire. Slowly, reluctantly, he let her slide down the length of his body.

Her descent was agonizing. Every soft contour of her pressed against the rigid proof of his desire, her skirts rustling as she slipped down inch by inch, her lips tilted up toward his, their mouths fused in a slow, searing kiss.

Then, just as his arms flexed to pull her back, she broke away.

Sebastian exhaled sharply as she stepped back, escaping his embrace completely.

She turned, pacing across the room, hands wringing together.

“I do not want to bear the burden of my secrets anymore,” she muttered, more to herself than to him.

Sebastian drew a slow, measured breath, willing his body to calm even as every muscle in him protested. He shifted, leaning back against the doorframe, arms crossed, schooling his expression into one of patience. But inside, he was aflame.

Every fiber of his being demanded that he go to her, pull her back into his arms, into the bed, into him .

But intrigue held him still.

Because this was important.

Whatever Harriet was about to say, whatever weighed on her, he needed to hear it.

Even if the only thing he truly wanted was to continue what they had begun the night before, to explore every inch of her again until there were no more barriers, no more lies, no more regrets.

Still, he forced himself to remain by the door, watching her intently.

“Then unburden yourself, Harry,” he said, his voice low, rough with restrained passion. “Tell me everything.”

Harriet licked her lips, her hands moving restlessly to her hair, disturbing the careful arrangement until strands began to slip free, mussing the perfect coif.

Sebastian’s fingers itched. He wanted to reach out, pluck the pins from her hair, watch her glorious auburn waves spill down her back in a shimmering cascade.

But she was pacing, her expression tense, her breath coming quick and shallow as if she were struggling to contain all the words rushing to escape.

“Where do I even start?” she muttered.

He said nothing. Just watched. Waited.

And then the words tumbled out, a frantic rush, as if she could no longer hold them in.

“The day I was supposed to meet you. The day we were meant to go to Calais,” she said in a whisper, her fingers knotting together in a tight grip.

“I-I was scared.” She looked at him then, her blue eyes wide and pleading.

“Not because I did not love you. Not because I did not want you. But because I was afraid that you could not support us if your brother cut you off. He was so dead set against helping us court that I was certain he would. But that was because it was what my father would do, and I cannot speak to the duke’s possible actions in that event. ”

Sebastian listened, remaining silent.

“I was selfish,” she continued, her voice thick with remorse. “I chose money and status. I told myself it was the practical decision. That it was for the best. That you would resent me when it became too hard.” She gave a short, bitter laugh. “But it was never worth it. Not once.”

She swallowed, bracing herself to continue her confession.

“My father …” She hesitated, then shook her head.

“No. I will not blame him. The choice was mine. But he did whisper doubts in my ear. He filled my head with fears, coaxed me to marry Horace Slight because of the advantages it gave him . And I let him. I knew what kind of man he was. I knew I should have ignored his discouragements. But I listened, because it suited me to do so. To not show courage but to take the easy way out.”

Sebastian’s hands curled into fists. Not in anger—no, not even in frustration. But because the desire to throw her onto the bed, until every regret was erased, was nearly overwhelming.

But he understood. She needed this. Needed to purge these thoughts, to release them from the dark corners of her mind where they had festered for years.

This was the new Harriet, embracing the difficult path that led to genuine rewards, so he remained where he was, watching her unravel before him as she had never done before.

She was ready to reveal her innermost thoughts and finally let him in.

But in this moment, he knew that nothing she could ever say would make him rethink his choice to finally join with her.

All the years of pain and loss had washed away while Sophia and Richard had revealed the real Harriet, the woman he had always known she was beneath the facade she had erected under her father’s tutelage year by year.

And now that he had finally found this woman, the real woman, he was never letting her go.

Harriet paused in the middle of the floor, her hands twisting together so tightly that her knuckles ached. The fire crackled softly in the grate, the only sound in the stillness of the room.

She peeked up at Sebastian. He was so still, his broad frame leaning against the doorframe, arms folded over his chest. He seemed calm—too calm—watching her with steady gray eyes that revealed nothing of his thoughts. He had shown no reaction to anything she had said thus far, simply listening.

Her breath quickened as she tried to think how to say what came next.

If he stayed in the room after this—if he did not storm out, if he did not look at her with disgust—then she would know. She would know that he would never leave her. That no matter what she said, what she had done, she would not lose him.

And yet, it was so despicable.

She swallowed, her throat tightening as she fought to force the words from her lips.

Just say it, Harriet. Say it before you lose your courage.

“But that is not the worst,” she finally blurted, the words rushing out before she could stop them. “Last year, I had an affair with your cousin Perry.”

Sebastian straightened, his arms uncrossing, a deep frown creasing his face.

Harriet’s breath caught. This is it. This is where he leaves.

She watched in growing panic as he ran a hand through his golden hair, his fingers raking through the strands in that familiar way he always did when he was thinking, when he was troubled .

Her stomach plummeted.

Then he exhaled slowly, lowering his hand. He met her gaze, his expression indecipherable, but then, he nodded.

Harriet stared at him, stunned.

And then he spoke, his voice low but steady. “All right.”

She blinked. “All right?”

Sebastian gave a small, weary nod. “It is not what I would have wished to hear, but … I cannot say I am surprised. You were lonely. He can be charming.” His mouth twitched with what might have been amusement in a different circumstance.

“And he was utterly without honor, although I am told he is a very different man now.”

Harriet released a shuddering breath, barely able to process his words.

He was not leaving. He had not raged. Had not recoiled.

And the part of her that had been bracing for his rejection—that had been certain of it—uncoiled like a spring snapping loose.

“You are not angry?” she asked, her voice tentative.

Sebastian ran a hand down his face, then sighed.

“Oh, I am angry.” His voice was rough now, his gaze sharp as steel.

“But not at you . Not anymore.” He shook his head, as though sifting through his thoughts.

“I have spent years resenting the past. Resenting you. But the truth is, I left you to face England alone while I ran off to Italy. I should have fought harder for you. I should have made it impossible for you to doubt me.”

Tears burned at the backs of her eyes.

“I did doubt you,” she whispered. “I doubted that you could stand against your brother. I doubted that I was worth fighting for.”

Sebastian took a step toward her, his voice fierce now. “You were worth it, Harry. You are worth it.”

Her pulse slowed in shock, and then, she was in his arms.

Sebastian held her at arm’s length, his strong hands firm but gentle as they rested on her upper arms. She could see the longing in his eyes, the way his gaze traced the lines of her face, the curve of her lips, but he would not allow her to press against him.

His voice was quiet but unyielding. “We should finish this, Harry. Tell me about Brendan.”

Harriet blinked, stunned. A cold wave of dread swept through her, and she instinctively tugged away, crossing the room to wrap her arms around herself.

“Someone told you?” she asked eventually, barely audible.

Sebastian shook his head. “It was a guess.” He exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Brendan did not say a single word during dinner last night. And he attempted to interrupt the duke when he thought his secrets were going to be revealed.”

Harriet let out a short, bitter laugh, rubbing at her hair again, heedless of how she was mussing the already-loose strands. “Yes,” she said hoarsely. “I had an affair with him.” She hesitated before forcing herself to continue. “But that was not the worst of it.”

She turned to face him fully now, her heart pounding.

“The problem was that he was here. In this house. When his father was murdered.” Her voice grew thready.

“And I-I would not provide him an alibi. I was dismissive and selfish, and I refused to involve myself.” She swallowed, shame thick in her throat.

“Lily stepped forward in my place. She gave the alibi I should have given. And so they had to marry.”

She braced herself, expecting Sebastian’s anger, expecting his condemnation.

Instead, he nodded. Accepting the truth.

But she was not done.

“It gets worse,” she whispered.

Sebastian’s brows rose. “How?”

Harriet squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to be brave. She could not stop now. She had to see this through, no matter the consequences.

“I was drunk. And miserable. And I could not understand why my lovers kept leaving me to marry unsophisticated girls.” She let out a hollow laugh. “So I-I tried to seduce him after they married.”

Sebastian stiffened.

Harriet forced herself to meet his eyes, her face hot with shame. “Lily caught me.”

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

Sebastian’s voice was quiet, but there was an edge to it. “And Brendan?”

Harriet’s hands clenched at her sides. “He resisted me,” she admitted. “He did not participate. He did not betray Lily. I was the only one at fault.”

Sebastian was silent as he absorbed this.

Harriet waited. Heart hammering. Waiting for the moment he decided she was not worth forgiving.

The silence stretched so long that Harriet thought she might have lost all sense of time. Every muscle in her body was braced for his anger, his disgust, for the moment Sebastian finally realized she was too far gone to be redeemed.

But then …

He chuckled.

Harriet blinked, sure she had misheard.

Sebastian rubbed a hand over his face, shaking his head. “Well,” he mused, his voice wry, “the duke’s current resistance to you makes a great deal more sense now.”

She stared at him, her lips parting in disbelief. “You are laughing?”

“I am,” he admitted, amusement curling his lips.

“Because I spent half the night trying to puzzle out why my customarily even-tempered brother was so damn stiff around you. Still. After all these years. And now I know.” His gray eyes gleamed as he gave her a pointed look.

“I also suspect this is what Sophia meant when she said your secrets were your own to disclose.”

Harriet exhaled shakily, her hands still clenched at her sides. “Lady Saunton?”

Sebastian nodded. “She accompanied Richard to see me. To reassure me that I had not caught the two of you in an illicit assignation.”

“And you are not angry?”

Sebastian’s smile faded slightly, though not in disappointment—rather, with a quiet assurance that felt more certain, more enduring.

“I have been challenged,” he said, his voice thoughtful. “Challenged to be the man you need. And after hearing all this, I understand why you began your quest for redemption and why you need a strong man who keeps his head. I committed to this role when I decided to return to you.”

Harriet’s throat tightened, emotion swelling inside her. She had expected fury. Or worse, pity. But Sebastian only saw her. And after everything, after all her mistakes, he still wanted to be the man by her side.

Harriet could scarcely breathe. She had prepared herself for anger. For heartbreak. For the moment Sebastian would finally look at her and see someone unworthy of his love. But instead …

“You forgive me?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Sebastian exhaled, his broad shoulders rising and falling.

“It is not my place to forgive you, Harry,” he said quietly.

“I did foolish things when I was grieving us. You saw the error of your ways and have been making amends. I cannot hold these things against you when we were not together. I can only hold you to account for what you do moving forward.”

Harriet swallowed hard, searching his face, trying to make sense of the impossible grace he was offering her.

“We were together,” he continued, his voice rough. “And then we were not. I will not hold the last few years against you. I can only start afresh with you so we may continue our journey together.”

A sob built in her throat, but she pressed her lips together, forcing herself to hold it in.

He was giving her a future.

A chance.

A beginning.

And for the first time in her life, Harriet dared to believe she might just deserve it.

With another sob, she ran into his arms, and this time he let her.

Sebastian caught her, his strong arms closing around her, holding her as if he would never let go.

Her fingers clutched at his shoulders, at the fabric of his shirt, at anything solid—anything real—to anchor herself against the storm of emotion raging within her.

Then his head dipped, and his mouth claimed hers in a searing kiss.

It was not gentle. It was not hesitant. It was everything—their past, their pain, their longing, their unspoken promises—all poured into the heated press of his lips against hers.

Harriet melted into him, grasping at his nape, drawing him impossibly closer as her body sang with the relief of his acceptance, his passion, his love.

She had spent years running from the truth, but there was no running from this. She belonged to him. She always had. And as he deepened the kiss, groaning softly against her lips, she knew this time, she would never let him go.