Chapter Twenty-Eight

Rain hammered against the windows and wind whistled through the gaps in the panes. The fire in the library sputtered in protest as a gust whipped down the chimney. Thank the Lord the ship had docked during the day when the weather was better. They would bring their haul once the weather improved. Red snorted. It would not have been logical to bring the barrels in tonight.

He swilled his brandy around the glass and pushed it aside. Alcohol held little appeal tonight. Or any night since his return. His gut was telling him something. Telling him he was wrong. He should have given Hannah the choice—him or history. But he had been a coward. Because it was easier for him to walk away than to listen to her say she had chosen history.

Some roguish smuggler he was.

The doorbell echoed through the house, ringing on and on through the quiet rooms. If that was Nate, he would throttle him. He hardly needed to ring the bell.

When no footsteps sounded, Red forced himself up and stomped through to the hallway. It was late indeed but he would have expected the butler to be around at least. He would probably be reading one those blasted gothic novels he was so fond of and was entirely absorbed. Red was going to have to ban the damned things from the house.

He hauled open the door, ready to see his brother, soaking and with some excuse for not being able to open a door himself.

He froze. Blinked several times. Peered closer. His heart near cracked his rib cage as it jumped.

"Hannah?"

She gave a weak smile. "C-can I come in?"

He opened the door farther and ushered her in. The rain had glued her pelisse to her and her bonnet was a soggy mess of ribbon and straw. A curl had wrapped itself about her face and was sticking to her lip. She pushed it aside.

"What the devil are you doing here?"

She undid her bonnet and clasped it tightly. "That was one awful journey," she said with a smile.

"I cannot be any worse than ours."

"Oh it was. You were not with me for one." She gave a little shudder.

The fragile movement sparked him into action. "Come on through, we had better get you dry."

"Not the first time I have been soaked through in your company," she chattered.

He led her through to the library and pushed one of the chairs in front of the fire before handing her his discarded brandy. "Drink up, it will warm you."

She took a sip and clasped the glass between both hands. "T-thank you."

"What are you doing here, Hannah? And why the devil were you out in this weather?"

"The mail coach stopped by the harbor. I had to walk from there."

"You should have stopped at the inn."

She shook her head.

Red leaned against the fireplace and took in the sight of her. Even a soggy mess, she was beautiful. He had missed looking at that stubborn chin and those long-lashed eyes. Missed kissing those lips too.

"Why are you here then? Is something wrong? Christ, are you—"

"There is nothing wrong. Well, there is I suppose, but not physically or in any other way." She gave a shaky smile. "When you left London, you did not give me much time to speak, or even think. I hardly knew what had happened."

"It was for the best," he muttered.

"Was it?" Her smile grew bolder. "I had this feeling, right here, in my gut." She pressed a hand to her stomach. "At first I thought that, logically, you had changed your mind about me. That perhaps you loved me but not enough to want anything more from me. It made sense. You are an earl, after all, and you had said nothing of our future together. But the more I thought on it, the more my gut told me that was not right."

Red hardly wanted to ask the next question in case the answer was not what he wanted. "What did you gut say then?"

"It said that you did love me. That you did want me. It said that for some reason, you ran away."

"I did not," he grumbled.

"Yes, you did." She stood and set the glass down on the mantelpiece. "You ran away, Red. You, the bold, brave smuggler ran away. It hurt me very much."

"Christ."

"I thought to let you go for a while until my father came to London. He wanted me to come to an island off the Highlands of Scotland. They are digging up a medieval village there."

"Why are you here then?"

"When I listened to my gut, I knew I did not want that. Before I met you, I would have followed my father simply to spend more time with him, but I would have merely been hanging on his coattails. I need to do something on my own terms."

"So you came here to tell me you are heading off somewhere alone? Is that why you came?"

"No." She stepped closer. The fire smoothed her skin and warmed her complexion. It turned her eyes almost amber. The agonizing need to kiss her burned through him.

"No," she repeated. "I know what I want to do on my own terms."

"And what is that?" His voice came to strangled.

"I want to be with you. And I think you want to be with me."

"But your passion for history...for all of that. I could not get in the way of that." He swallowed the giant knot that had gathered in his throat. "That is why I ran. I did not wish to get in the way of it."

"That is what my gut told me." Hannah reached up and pushed a lock of hair from his forehead. "But you will not get in the way of it. You helped me with the stone, and I know you will support me in whatever I endeavor to do." She grinned. "There have been a few wonderful fossils discovered in the Cornwall recently. I thought I might be able to turn my attention to that."

"So you did want me?" he asked, hating himself for how weak he sounded.

"Yes. I merely wanted to speak to my father and let him know that I would be going to Cornwall with you. I doubt he would have objected to me marrying an earl, but I had to tell him in person." She cupped his cheek. "I still want you. And I think you want me too."

"What does your gut say?"

"It says you do."

He wrapped his arms about her and pinned her to him. "Damn right I do. I was ready to bring you here and marry you in an instant. I still am. God, forgive me for being a fool."

"Oh, Red."

"I think if you had not found me, I would have come to you. Hell, I would have followed you to the Highlands and played escort again if I had to."

"And given up smuggling?"

"Absolutely."

"Well, there is no need for that."

"You are prepared to be the wife of a smuggler?"

"I certainly am as long as you are willing to be the husband of a fossil hunter."

"I would not have it any other way."

"And the husband of a bluestocking?" she teased.

"And the wife of a rogue."

"And a gentleman," she added. "All of it. I want it all."

Red could hardly take the words in. He grinned foolishly but could resist no longer. He took her mouth in a long, heated kissed that was only broken by the sound of the front door slamming shut.

He took Hannah's hand. "That must be Nate. Come let me introduce you as my fiancé."

Her beaming smile made his heart warm. Perhaps the stone had not been cursed, after all. All the trials it had put them through had brought them to this point. One day he would visit the damned thing again and thank it.

He led her back to the entrance hall. His brother was shaking off his hat and a woman stood behind him. Red recognized her as Miss Gray, the daughter of a local gentleman.

"Nate, you remember Miss St. John?"

"Ah." His brother dipped his head, rain droplets spilling from the shoulders of his greatcoat onto the marble floor. "I do indeed. Whatever are you doing back in Cornwall?"

Hannah glanced at Red.

"Hannah has just this moment agreed to marry me."

Nate laughed and took Miss Gray's hand. "What a coincidence. So has Patience."

The End