door then strode over, cupped the back of her neck and kissed her until she gasped for breath.
“What was that for?” she asked when he eased back and rested his forehead against hers.
“Does a man need an excuse to kiss a woman?”
“Well...” She lifted a finger and frowned. “I suppose not.” She gestured toward the door. “What is going on with Brown?”
“I have no idea. The man has been acting strange all day.” He motioned to the chairs. “Will you join me for a drink?”
Freya laced her fingers together, aware of her heart fluttering in her chest. She didn’t want to say it or even think it, but their situation needed some...clarity. She licked her lips and swallowed. “I was just speaking with my mother.”
“She’s not unwell, is she?” He moved to the door. “I’ll fetch the doctor.”
“No, no.” She gripped his forearm. “She’s quite well. In fact, incredibly well. I think you might have saved her life, Guy.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You really did.” She eased out a long breath. “But I think it is time for her to return home.”
His jaw hardened. “Her or you?”
“Well, if she is not here, I can hardly stay as an unmarried woman without my mother, can I?”
He moved back a few steps from her, his posture stiff. “So you no longer want to be here, is that what you are saying?”
No. She wanted to be with him more than ever. Always. Every day. But how could she continue like this? “My father misses my mother.” She winced when his frown deepened.
“I thought you liked staying here. With me.”
The vulnerability in his voice dug deep into her chest. “I do.”
“So why do you wish to go?”
“We can still see each other.”
His expression turned stony. “That sounds rather insipid.”
The door eased open and Brown returned with the newspaper. “I found it in the kitchen, my lord. Perhaps one of the maids was reading it.” He spared Freya another apologetic look as he handed it over and swiftly departed.
Guy glanced at the headline and scowled. “Why all this fuss over a blasted newspa—” He paused and flicked it open. Freya moved closer to peer over his shoulder. “What is it? Do not tell me the baron’s wife has been harmed.”
“No.” The word came out harsh.
She peered at the paper and her heart nearly dropped to her toes. “Guy—”
He turned on her and waved the newspaper at her. “Is this why you wish to go? Because you were too busy writing about me? What next? Will you be writing of The Kidnap Club?” He made a disgusted noise. “I suppose I should be grateful you only wrote of my visit to the whorehouse and not of the women who needed help.”
“That was not me!” she protested.
“It says your name here. Miss H.” He jabbed a finger at the top of the article.
“It’s another Miss H, clearly. I did not write that, Guy. Why would I?”
“Because your career means everything to you.”
“It does, that is true, but writing gossip never once meant anything to me.”
“It meant a lot to me,” he muttered.
“I know, and I am sorry for the hurt my column caused. Which is why I refused to write it this week.” She folded her arms. “I have given up my position there, Guy.”
He eyed her for several moments, glanced at the newspaper then looked at her again.
“Do you truly believe I would do that to you?” She straightened her shoulders.
Perhaps she had been right in her desire to leave. She couldn’t play mistress any longer—it simply hurt too much to worry about when it might all come crumbling down around her—and they could never marry. Imagine her being a countess! Preposterous. She had rather hoped they might at least remain friends, though, and she certainly did not want to give up being part of The Kidnap Club.
She took a step closer when he didn’t answer. “Do you really, truly believe I would do that?”
His jaw ticked. He dropped the paper to the floor. She frowned at it when it landed on the carpet. “What are you—”
Both hands settled about her face and lifted her chin to his. “No,” he murmured. “No, I damn well don’t.” His lips found hers, hot and desperate. “You’re not going anywhere, Freya. Not tonight at least. I need you too much.”
All resolve vanished at his words. She curved her hands around his neck. “I need you too.”
Too much probably.
Chapter Twenty- Six
“Is your mother settled at home now?” Guy heard Brown ask