The Earl of Christmas Past (Goode Girls Romance #5) - Kerrigan Byrne Page 0,29

impossible to breathe.

He shook his head, blinking as if trying to clear it. “Sorry. Do you mind telling me what the bloody devil you’re doing in my crypt on Christmas?”

“I um…” She itched at her hair beneath her cap, wondering just how to get herself out of this predicament without being thrown in an asylum. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

He leveled her a droll look, propping his shoulder against a stone wall. “Try me.”

She gazed at him a long time, at the lantern light splashing deep hollows beneath his chiseled cheekbones. Something in the imperturbable stillness of his gaze told her she could say anything.

So, she attempted the truth.

“I took refuge at a place in the Highlands of Scotland called Balthazar’s Inn on solstice night. While I stayed there I…met…” She sputtered and stalled out a bit. It was impossible to express her experience without choking up, so she reached behind her neck and unclasped the chain, letting the lion head ring slip from it into her palm. “I happened upon this, and was told it belonged to Johnathan de Lohr, the one who was lost at Culloden. I was…tasked to return it.”

Those heartless, ruthless eyes affixed on the ring, and she thought she might have read a spark of life in them.

But only just.

“The Lion’s Head.” His voice had become deeper, like a monk’s at prayer. “All this time. All these many generations have searched for it…and it just walks into Lioncross at Christmas.” He reached for it. Paused. And flicked his eyes back to hers. “May I?”

“It’s yours.” She offered it to him reluctantly, loath to let go all she had left of her lover.

He handled it as if it were made of spun glass, tilting it to unveil an inscription on the inside, which she’d never noticed. “Ever faithful.”

She leaned over to take a closer look, immediately aware that if either of them tilted their heads a fraction, their lips would meet.

“I’ve seen so many drawings. We’ve always assumed the ring was lost at the battle of Culloden. This was crafted in the Holy Land and gifted to the Lionclaw to always adorn the hand of the Earl of Hereford. In fact, a replica was never made because this one meant so much. They said there was a bit of magic crafted with it.”

Swallowing a surge of grief, Vanessa looked longingly at the coffin behind her. “I suppose I should have given it to you. I just thought…Well I wanted to return it to its rightful owner.”

The corner of his mouth tilted, and for a moment she thought she might burst into tears.

“That is good of you.” He hesitated, drawing a hand through his mane in an attempt to tame it. “It’s freezing out. Might I invite you in for some warm tea?”

She shook her head, needing to lick her wounds. Unwilling to have to look at him in the brilliant winter sun. “Oh. I don’t want to take up any of your—”

“Please,” he murmured, capturing her hand. “It’s a rather large castle, and it’s just me, now. The last de Lohr…well of my line, anyhow. You’d be doing a solitary man a kindness on Christmas.”

She swallowed a spurt of pity and called it ridiculous. He was one of the most eligible bachelors in the Empire. If he wanted companionship, he’d only have to crook a finger.

“I’m no sort of company,” she argued. “And not someone you’d want to be seen socializing with, besides.”

The tiniest hint of an azure flame flared behind his eyes, causing them to glow like black sapphires in the dark. “I’m a de Lohr. I do as I fucking wish.”

Worry crimped her forehead. “Perhaps you haven’t heard about me.”

“Oh, I heard,” he said meaningfully. “I saw the pamphlet that blackguard, Woodhaven, passed around my club.” His voice took on a savage bite to match the ferocity of his features. “I burned them all and got his bloody membership revoked.”

She smiled at that. “Well…maybe one cup of tea.”

He took up her lantern and turned away, so she followed his shoulders up the stone steps, blinking against the brightness of the morning.

Which was why she bumped into him.

It was like running into a boulder.

Jostled by her, he dropped the ring, and it rolled between his feet as he took a few steps before he realized.

Vanessa bent to pick it up, and a snowflake landed on the tip of her nose as she straightened. She blinked and looked around, mesmerized by the drifting