Page 103 of Rules for Ruin

“No.”

His brows sank. “If you don’t feel the same—”

“I do,” she said softly. “You must know that I do.”

The barest flicker of relief crossed his face. He smiled briefly. “I didn’t know. I hoped, but—”

“Gabriel…”

His mouth quirked with sudden humor. He looked different. Younger. “If you want pretty speeches, you’ll have to look elsewhere, sweet. I’m no fancy lord, just a rogue from Birmingham. All I can tell you is that you’re magnificent. Doubtless you’ve heard it before.”

“No,” she said. “I haven’t.” Gentlemen had complimented her frequently enough on her eyes, her face, her figure. They had called her beautiful often, magnificent never.

“Bloody idiots,” Gabriel said. Bending his head to hers, he pressed a kiss to her lips.

Effie’s eyes fell closed and her mouth softened under his. A part of her had feared that his feelings toward her would change. That after learning the truth about her origins, he would respect her less. But it appeared the opposite was true. He was gentler, sweeter. As though it was the first time their lips had touched.

And perhaps it was.

On every other occasion there had been something between them. Panic, tears, lies, and artifice. But not now. Now, they were both fully vulnerable. Fully themselves.

She curved a hand around his neck, bringing him closer.

He obliged her, deepening their kiss. He was less cautious now, his desire for her evident in the way he cradled her cheek and the strength with which his arm came about her waist. He held her fast against his chest, so close she could feel the heavy beat of his heart.

Effie’s own heart thumped hard in answer as she sank into the fierceness of his embrace. She kissed him back with warm, half-parted lips, sighing, yielding, her fingers twining in his hair. Her blood sang out—yes, yes, yes. This was exactly where she belonged. Where she’d always belonged.

It would have been so easy to succumb to the sensation.

Goodness, he’d all but said that he loved her! He’d offered her a house, fine dresses, a coach-and-four. More than that, he’d proposed something like a partnership. A mutual endeavor to reform the Rookery. The place both of them had, at one time, called home.

But Effie had another home. One she hadn’t recognized for what it was until today. The remote, iron-gated stone house where she’d learned, grown, transformed into a woman to be reckoned with.

The train rattled down the track. London was still a distance away. There were other stops in between. The next was one with which she was intimately familiar.

“I can’t,” she murmured against his mouth.

“Can’t what?”

“Be with you,” she said. “Not on those terms.”

Gabriel’s hand froze on the curve of her waist. A moment passed in absolute stillness, his unsteady breath mingling with hers, before he drew back to look at her. He stared into her eyes. “On any terms?”

“I still have a job to do.”

He released her from his arms, leaving her cold. “A job,” he repeated. The sardonic edge in his voice left no doubt as to what he thought of it.

She mustered an air of offended dignity—not an easy feat when her face was flushed and her lips still swollen from his kisses. “I see how it is. The only way we can be together is if I sacrifice what’s important to me. The notion of you sacrificing anything is ludicrous, I suppose.”

“I haven’t sacrificed?” His gaze hardened. “I’m here with you, aren’t I? Tomorrow is Epsom. I have two horses running, a shop that’s packed to the gills, a passel of gentlemen reformers waiting to meet with me, and I’m in bloody Hertfordshire.”

“I didn’t ask you to come.”

“You didn’t have to ask. I’d have been with you every moment if I could. I’d never have let you go with Mannering in the first place. I’d have taken you home with me that night where you belong. You’d have been mine and I’d have been yours.” His eyes smoldered. “The only thing keeping us apart is you.”

Effie steeled herself against another swell of yearning. “And yet, I’m the one who must bend.”

“No. All you must do is cease pursuing Compton, for your own good, Effie, and for mine. God knows I’ve offered you enough in exchange for it. A fine home, handsome clothes, a carriage. And myself—which would be sufficient on its own if you felt anything for me even approaching what I feel for you.”