“There you are.”

Grace startled at the sound of Langdon’s voice and the accompanying click of his bedchamber door closing. “I missed you today,” she told him.

“And I, you,” he answered, the flickering light from his candlestick coming closer to where she lay, his bed linens pulled up and tucked beneath her chin. “The plans of men never do come together as quickly as one would prefer.”

He set the candlestick down on the fireplace mantel and ran both hands through his hair in a weary gesture.

“Will you join me now?” Grace asked, needing the weight of him against her.

Langdon turned and looked at her, a rakish smile playing on his lips. “You did miss me, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but …” She was going to cry. Though she’d practiced the conversation most of the day and well into the quickly disappearing night, she knew the telltale signs. The pressure behind her eyes began to build. A lump the size of Sisyphus’s burden lodged in her throat. Grace bit her tongue and met his gaze, willing herself to remain calm.

“Grace?” he asked, his smile fading and a confused frown lowering his eyebrows. He strode toward her, knelt down next to the bed, and gently stroked her cheek, his fingers gentle as he studied her face. “What is wrong? Please, tell me, and I will make it right.”

Grace reached up and took his hand in hers. She kissed his fingers as though she would never feel them pressed against her again. “Undress and get into bed. Then I will tell you what is on my mind—and in my heart.”

Langdon rose and shed his clothing, unwinding the cravat from his neck and tossing it on the floor. He quickly shrugged out of his coat and linen shirt, then set to work on his boots and breeches.

Grace caught sight of his perfect form for only a brief moment. All sinewy muscles and sculpted bone, Langdon’s body made her ache with need. She closed her eyes and waited for him to join her.

Cold air brushed her back as he lifted the blankets and slipped into bed beside her. He wrapped his arm about her waist, his palm on her belly, fingers spread over her nightrail, and pulled her toward him until she nestled against his bare, warm, hard body.

“Now tell me. What has upset you?” he asked, his chin resting in the curve where neck met shoulder.

Grace melted against him, allowing his heat to warm them both. “Do you love me?”

“Why are you asking—”

“I am aware this is hardly the right way to go about asking such a question,” Grace interrupted him, afraid she would lose her courage and instead allow his closeness to lull her into a sense of security. “But I need to know.”

Langdon exhaled, a deep sigh filling the quiet room. “I do love you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone else—so much so that it scares me. So much so, in fact, that I want to leave everything behind except you. You, Grace. I love you.”

“And what does that mean?” Grace pressed, pushing her hope far back into the recesses of her heart.

Langdon nudged her onto her back and he leaned over her. “Precisely that. I will gladly give up my old life if it means a new one with you in it.”

“That is what I both hoped for and feared,” Grace whispered, unable to stave off the tears any longer. “I cannot stay in London and you cannot come to the country unless you relinquish your position. And I will not be the reason your dreams are unfulfilled. You would grow to resent me, Langdon. I would rather we part in love than stay together in eventual anger and hatred.”

In one swift movement, Langdon straddled her, his knees on the mattress next to her hips. “Are you saying that you love me?” He planted his large, capable hands beside her temples and bent to press a soft kiss against her mouth.

“I do,” Grace breathed, then turned her head and kissed the inside of his wrist. “Which is why I cannot allow you to come with me.”

He kissed the corner of her mouth, then trailed kisses from her chin to her temples. “What would change your mind?”

Langdon’s question struck Grace as somewhat odd. “Nothing short of no longer loving you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Langdon, please do not make this any more difficult than it already is,” Grace pleaded, kissing his wrist tenderly once more before turning to look at him.

He lifted away from her, the darkness hiding his expression. “What I am about to tell you …” He paused and Grace heard him inhale deeply, then exhale with equal force. “What I am about to tell you is something I have kept hidden from all for most of my life. But if it will convince you to stay, I will happily share it with you.”

“What is it, Langdon?” Grace asked, equal parts hesitant and impatient.

“I am not who I appear to be.”

Grace’s mind began to sift through different scenarios, none of which provided the answer to their problem. She squinted against the shadows in an attempt to better see his face. “And who are you? Exactly?”

“Langdon Bourne, Earl of Stonecliffe,” he replied simply, as if rattling off the name of his tailor.

“That is impossible,” Grace exclaimed as she swiped at the tears staining her cheeks. “I know that name. It belongs to one of the most honorable families in England. Why would an earl be posing as the leader of a criminal organization? It makes no sense whatsoever.”

“Which is exactly why I am the perfect man for the job,” Langdon replied as he moved to sit next to her. “As are all of the other men in service to the crown. No one would think to link the nobility to a government network of spies. We are all too busy gambling our inheritance away and ruining the young women of the ton. Or seducing desirable young widows.”

Grace pushed the blankets to her knees and sat up, turning to face Langdon. She took a moment to consider the stunning information he’d just revealed. “But don’t you see? Your title makes our situation even more impossible. An earl and the ruined daughter of a dissolute drunk cannot be together.”

“A dissolute drunken duke,” Langdon corrected her, reaching out to take her hands in his. “Though a poor excuse for a man, your father was a member of the peerage. And you were not ruined, my love. Your marriage to Crowther was legal.”

A spark of hope ignited within Grace’s heart. “Legal or not, the doctor was well beneath me. I have been absent from the ton for many years, but I feel certain people’s attitudes concerning such things have not changed completely.”

“I do not give a fig what my peers think,” Langdon answered with conviction. “I am a bloody earl—and furthermore, a bloody earl with a spotless reputation. I have spent my entire life devoted to the happiness of others and service to my country. And now I am going to spend the rest of my years loving you. If you will have me, that is.”

The tiny spark of hope began to pulse with pure, white light. “What of leaving London?”

“I own homes in Kent and Devonshire. And if neither of those pleases you, I will purchase another home wherever you like. Multiple homes, if necessary.”

Langdon squeezed Grace’s hands, his long, strong fingers urging her to agree.

“It cannot be that simple,” she argued halfheartedly, hope’s light beginning to burn hot within her. “Can it?”

Langdon pulled her into his lap and released her hands. “Will you marry me, Grace?”

“But your family—”

Langdon silenced her with a kiss. “Will you marry me?”

As a girl, Grace had dreamt of the moment when the man she well and truly loved asked her to marry him. The reality was quite different from her dreams, with far more life having been lived and learned before he found her. But he had found her. Just as she was meant to be found. And that was all that mattered.

“I will.”

Grace caught a glimpse of the fierce joy that blazed in Langdon’s eyes before he covered her mouth with his. He lifted Grace, turning her in his lap. Her knees bracketed his hips, her body aligned with his, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, swept away by the passion that soared between them.

His hands swept up her back, trailing over her shoulder blades and up her spine to her nape, before cupping her breasts.

She leaned back to give him better access and his lips left hers to trail down her throat. His mouth was hot as he pressed openmouthed, tasting kisses against her skin, and she burned everywhere he touched. His arm at her back held her securely as his mouth closed over the tip of her breast and she groaned, arching, pressing her nipple against his tongue.

Even the air she took in felt hot, too heated to breathe, and she gasped, burying her fingers in his hair to anchor her while the world spun dizzily.

Langdon muttered a curse and he buried one hand between her thighs, unerringly finding the wet heat that begged for his touch.

Grace squirmed, pressing frantically against his teasing fingers. Then they left her and she protested, trying to pull him back.

“Shh, love,” he murmured. He lifted her just far enough to position his erection against her aching center and then lowered her, surging upward and filling her.

She moaned louder and rocked forward, forcing him deeper into her. His groan joined hers as the movement seated him hard within her. With his hands at her waist, he lifted her just enough to partially retreat, then lowered her in a long smooth slide that had her clenching him, her nails scoring the skin of his shoulders.

“Langdon,” she begged, tortured, needing more. She put her arms around his neck and clasped him, pressing her breasts against his chest. His hair teased her sensitive nipples as she moved up and down his shaft.

“Grace,” he growled, grabbing her backside with both of his hands. He flipped her onto her back, his heavy weight pinning her to the mattress, and began a pounding rhythm that made her cry out with pleasure.

“Let go, my love,” Langdon urged.

“With you,” Grace panted. “Only with you.”

Langdon sunk himself into Grace’s core, his eyes wild with passion. “Now.”

And Grace let go. Her body shattered into a thousand points of white light as she climaxed.

Langdon pressed his forehead to hers and groaned loudly, his own release exploding within her.

“I love you,” he whispered over and over, reverently.

Grace pulsed with pleasure and wrapped Langdon in an embrace. “And I love you.”

Much later, after Langdon had taken Grace once more, and Grace had done the same to him, she lay in his arms, her head resting on his bare chest. She listened to his steady breathing, the strong beating of his heart against her cheek like music to her ears.

Home. Langdon was her home.