But Ezra really needed to be out there himself searching for the person who had shot Clara, if he was going to find any peace of mind at all regarding her safety, both now and in the future.

  “Why do you suspect the bullet was meant for you?”

  Ezra blinked before focusing on Clara. He should have known she would not allow such a statement to pass without remarking upon it. “Possibly because I have passed far more years in which to have annoyed someone to the point of them wishing to kill me, yourself included.” He tried to make light of it, but knew he had failed when Clara raised skeptical brows. “Do you know of anyone who might wish to shoot you?” he added practically.

  “Not offhand, no,” she confirmed. “But that does not mean there is no one who feels that way about me. Do you know of anyone specific who might wish to shoot you?”

  There were several people, if Ezra really thought about it. But he did not really wish to do that. Certainly not now, when this might be the last few hours he would spend alone with Clara.

  “You look exhausted, Ezra.”

  His smile was rueful at her expression of concern. “The chair by the window is not built for a man of my height and build to sit upon, let alone try to sleep in.”

  She released her hand to pat the bed beside her. “Come and lie down next to me. On top of the bedcovers, if you prefer it,” she added as he frowned. “Then we might both be able to spend the rest of the night in comfort.”

  She did look tired again after her conversation with the countess and now Ezra. But inviting him to share her bed, even lying atop the covers, was not only inappropriate but also ill-advised.

  The past two days and nights had been stressful ones for Ezra when all he could do was watch an unconscious Clara and hope for the best in regard to her recovery. To now be asked to share a bed with her, under any circumstances, was sure to make a nonsense of his having told her the two of them could only ever be friends.

  Years ago, Ezra had been an officer in Nelson’s navy, and the different ships he was assigned to had often come under fire, with the death of the crew and fellow officers alike; death during battle did not discriminate between age or class. Without fail, once ashore, the first thing the survivors of those battles would do was seek out a willing and warm pair of arms, of whatever sex was preferred, in which to either lose themselves for an hour or two or to reaffirm their grip on life. Ezra was as guilty of that practice as the next man.

  He currently felt as if he and Clara had survived one of those battles, and he could imagine nothing that would guarantee his own affirmation of Clara’s life than to sink his cock between her hot and willing thighs. The mere thought of it was enough to cause his cock to swell and engorge in eager anticipation.

  He shook his head. “I believe it is time I returned to my uncomfortable chair.”

  “That is utterly ridiculous when there is the whole other side of this huge bed that is empty,” Clara snapped her impatience with his stubbornness.

  His glance was chiding. “Not so ridiculous when you consider how horrified your parents would be if they were to enter the room and found the two of us sharing a bed.”

  Clara’s parents were not here. Nor, under Ezra’s direction, were they likely to be again until the morning. Besides, Clara was only awake for now, and she did not wish to be parted from Ezra, even by the width of the bedchamber.

  She snorted softly. “I am hardly in a condition to seduce you!”

  “I believe your parents’ concern would be whether or not I had seduced you,” he drawled.

  “Then they obviously need to be informed of the fortitude you have exerted this past month in your determination to withstand each and every one of my attempts at seducing you!”

  “Clara—”

  “I am making no accusations or recriminations,” she assured softly. “I am merely tired, wish to go back to sleep, and desirous of knowing you are also asleep in this bed with me. I believe it is the last opportunity I will have to do so,” she added ruefully.

  Ezra eyed her warily. “What do you mean?”

  She gave a knowing smile. “Do you deny that you intend leaving here, now that you are reassured of my recovery?”

  His gaze didn’t quite meet hers. “You cannot know that.”

  “I know you, Ezra.” She smiled. “Your sense of honor is outweighed only by your need to protect. Can you deny I am wrong in my assumption?”

  “No, you are not wrong.”

  Clara nodded. “Then please do this one last thing and humor me by sharing this bed with me tonight. I do not care how, above or below the covers, as long as I know you are close to me. I also request that you do not leave Weston Park tomorrow without saying goodbye to me first.”

  How was Ezra supposed to resist when Clara asked him so sincerely? He could not. “Very well.” He agreed to both requests, removing his boots and placing them to one side before he stood to move round to the other side of the bed.

  The side of Clara that was not sore and hurting from having been shot. He carefully turned the bedcovers back so as not to hurt her before sliding beneath the sheet, his head resting on the pillow beside Clara’s.

  “You can move a little closer,” she teased.

  “I do not wish to hurt you—”

  “Having you so close but still not close enough is the only thing hurting me at the moment,” she answered with husky honesty.

  It was her complete lack of guile that succeeded in bringing Ezra to his knees—again—more than any bullet or sword could ever have done. “Tell me if I hurt you,” he murmured as he carefully shifted across the bed until they were so near each other he could feel the warmth of Clara’s body reaching out for his cooler one. Their heads were so close on the two side-by-side pillows that the merest whisper of a breath separated them. “Is this comfortable for you?”

  Clara wished she could turn on her side and shift even closer but knew her shoulder would hurt again if she attempted to move. “Kiss me good night, Ezra.”

  He winced. “I do not think—”

  “You think far too much,” she scolded. “Now kiss me goodnight before I am forced to attempt to kiss you. I say attempt, because I doubt I will be able to do so without, at the least, causing myself pain and, at the worst, possibly ripping open some of the doctor’s stitches I am sure are beneath this bandage on my shoulder.” As blackmail went, it was not in the least subtle, but then Clara was suddenly too exhausted for such niceties.

  “Remain as you are,” he instructed firmly.

  She smiled up at Ezra as he moved onto his elbow beside her, his face once again close to her own. “On the lips, and not chastely on my brow or cheek,” she instructed as his head began to lower toward her.

  He smiled down at her as the palm of his hand gently curved about her cheek. “You are a very bossy young lady.”

  “I did not used to be before I met you,” she dismissed.

  “You are blaming your newfound assertiveness on me?”

  Clara nodded. “As a necessary countermeasure to your stubbornness, yes. If I were not so determined, then your mulishness would prevent me from getting anywhere with you.”

  He regarded her ruefully. “My point is I should not be allowing you to get anywhere with me.”

  She gave him a pitying smile. “You could try to stop me.”

  Ezra chuckled throatily. “I have tried, to no avail.”

  “Then why are we still talking?”

  His smile widened. “I have never met another woman even remotely like you, Clara.”

  “Well, that is something, I suppose,” she came back waspishly, not sure if it was a compliment or not.

  The soft pad of his thumb gently caressed the pout of her bottom lip. “It is,” he confirmed huskily, his lips now a whisper away from Clara’s. “You will never know how much I wish things could be different between us.”

  Impossible for Clara to miss the wistfulness in his tone. But she knew better than to ruin the moment by attempting to argue with him again on the subject. Instead, she lifted her head and pressed her lips against his, sighing her contentment and wrapping her good arm about his neck to hold him against her when his lips parted to return the kiss.

  Soft and gentle kisses. Half a dozen of them before Ezra pulled back to lie down beside her once again, his head resting against her uninjured shoulder.

  “Good night, my love,” Clara murmured sleepily.

  Ezra’s heart stuttered at the endearment, a glance at Clara revealing that her eyes were already closed, her breasts softly rising and falling as she fell into a peaceful sleep.

  Ezra remained awake a long time after Clara, simply looking at her and wishing with all his heart that it was true and he really could be Clara’s love.

  Chapter 7

  Clara was not in the least surprised to wake alone in the bed the following morning. Her mother was seated in the chair beside the bed, but Ezra was nowhere to be seen. But a glance at the indentation in the pillow beside her own showed she had not imagined Ezra lying beside her, leading her to believe she had not imagined him kissing her before she fell asleep either.

  “Darling!” Her mother bent over the bed, her expression one of loving concern. “I was so relieved when Lord Stone informed us that you had woken during the night. He has taken a bath and is now downstairs having breakfast with your father, the duke, and Sheffield,” she provided as Clara glanced over toward the empty chair near the window.

  Clara was relieved to know Ezra had not, as he agreed he would not last night, left the house without saying goodbye to her. Until they discovered who was to blame for having shot her, and if she had been the intended target or Ezra had, she did not believe it was safe for him to return to Stone Manor. Now that she was feeling a little stronger, she intended telling him as much.

  “I cannot claim to be disappointed to have you to myself for a few minutes,” her mother continued. “Lord Stone has behaved in a most high-handed manner by refusing absolutely to allow your aunt, uncle and cousin to visit with you. He has even kept your father and me from you these past few days, except at his invitation,” she added with an offended sniff.

  Clara laughed softly. “I do not believe he knows how to behave any other way, Mama.”

  Her mother’s mouth tightened. “Where you are concerned, it would appear not.”

  She reached out to give her mother’s hand a squeeze. “Do you have any objection toward our friendship other than his being so much older than me?”

  “There is nothing wrong with a gentleman being older than the lady. Your father is fifteen years my senior.”

  Clara knew that. “Then what is your objection to Lord Stone?”

  Her mother spoke slowly. “It is nothing I can put into words. Only that his behavior toward you is so contrary, perhaps? One minute, he seems determined to keep you at a polite distance, and the next, he is ordering people out of your bedchamber but remaining himself. He has done this not once now but twice, which would damn you forever in Society if any there were ever to learn of it. It is my biggest fear that he will hurt you, darling. Perhaps unintentionally, but he could still hurt you.” She clasped one of Clara’s hands in both of hers. “You wear your heart on your sleeve, my pet.”

  “I have loved him since the moment I first saw him,” she admitted, knowing her mother’s concerns were also her own. “Is there any news on who might have shot me?” she asked, changing the subject.

  “Such goings-on.” One of her mother’s hands fluttered to her breasts. “I had believed all that to be over once that man was returned to the asylum, but neither your father nor I can come up with anyone else who might possibly want to harm you.” Her hand tightened about Clara’s.

  Clara frowned. “Lord Stone believes the bullet might have been intended for him.”

  Lady Sarah’s eyes widened. “Why should he think that?”

  She shook her head. “He refuses to tell me, but implied the reason might be because of something that happened in his youth. He is your contemporary, Mama, would have entered society at the same time as you did. What do you remember of that time?”

  “I was rather busy falling in love with your father.” A pretty blush colored her mother’s cheeks. “He was such a handsome gentleman. So good and kind, and—”

  “Ezra was?” Ezra was handsome, and good and kind beneath his gruff exterior, but she had not thought her mother shared that positive opinion of him.

  Lady Sarah gave her a chiding glance. “I was referring to your father. I do not recall Lord Stone— Ah.” She stilled. “Yes, I do remember him now I think back to that time. He was as tall and handsome then as he is now, and muscular, with that same long and unruly hair. He ran with a group of friends in Society who were far more…wild and adventurous than I or any of my own friends would ever have dared to be.”

  Clara was having difficulty imagining Ezra as being a wild and adventurous gentleman of eighteen, possibly nineteen. He behaved so circumspectly now and preferred to keep himself secluded from company that, despite Ezra having described himself in the same way, she could not reconcile the young Ezra with the taciturn man he was now.

  “I recall there was a scandal,” her mother continued. “Something to do with Lady Anna Fairhurst, the married daughter of the Duke of Chisholm. Ah, yes, it is all coming back to me now.” Her mother’s gaze sharpened. “The reason I do not recall Lord Stone too deeply is because his father, in order to put an end to such an unsuitable friendship, sent his son to the Bahamas partway through the Season to work on the family sugar plantation there. Lord Stone did not return to England until you were two or possibly three years old, and even then, he has rarely been seen in London since.”

  It seemed strange, despite knowing of the difference in their ages, to think of Ezra as having had all that life before and since she was born.

  Was his “unsuitable friendship” with Lady Fairhurst, the married daughter of the Duke of Chisholm, the reason Ezra now chose to live alone in Worcestershire and avoid all in Society?

  Was Ezra still in love with the other woman?

  Clara felt an ache in her chest merely imagining that to be true.

  She recalled seeing Lady Fairhurst during the few brief weeks she had spent in Society earlier in the summer. She was a tall, haughty, and very beautiful blonde-haired lady possibly aged in her mid-forties. Clara seemed to recall Lord Fairhurst as being a gentleman who flirted and danced with many ladies, none of whom were his wife.

  Because Lady Fairhurst was still in love with Ezra and her husband was aware of their past association?

  Enough to want to shoot Ezra in order to remove him from his wife’s affections?

  But why would Lord Fairhurst’s resentment toward Ezra have escalated into violence now, after all these years?

  It made little sense to Clara.

  She had hoped that talking to her mother might help her to discover some of what Ezra refused to talk about, but all learning about his past relationship with Lady Fairhurst had done was give Clara more to think about, not less, along with even more heartache.

  Clara was not naïve enough to think that Ezra had not taken many lovers before the two of them met, but how was she supposed to fight against a love affair Ezra refused to even acknowledge as having happened, let alone with a woman still as beautiful and sophisticated as Lady Anna Fairhurst?

  “Are you still in love with Lady Fairhurst?”

  Ezra, having just let himself back into Clara’s bedchamber after enjoying a leisurely breakfast with Catchpole, Weston, and Sheffield, instantly felt under verbal attack.

  The doctor had called while Ezra was downstairs, but instead of accompanying the other man upstairs, Ezra had chosen to continue with his breakfast in the knowledge Lady Catchpole was with Clara.

  Therefore, it was some surprise to see that Clara was now out of bed and occupying the chair near the window which had been his own these past two days and nights. She wore a white cotton robe over a clean night rail and looked slightly fragile. Her cheeks were still paler than usual, revealing each and every one of those twenty-three freckles. But her long red hair was brushed and secured at her nape with a blue ribbon that matched her eyes.

  Ezra stepped more fully into the bedchamber before closing the door softly behind him. “Are you well enough to be out of bed?”

  “The doctor seems to think so, yes,” she bit out, obviously annoyed he had not answered her question. “In fact, he insisted it is the best thing for me.”

  “And how do you feel?”

  “A little stiff in my shoulder still, but the pain is no longer as severe.”

  His mouth thinned. “In that case, perhaps you would care to explain why you felt the need to discuss my past with your mother? I take it that is who informed you of my brief…friendship with Lady Fairhurst?”

  Clara gave him a scathing glance. “Do not try to make it sound as if I am the one in the wrong for having asked. How else was I to learn what great secret is keeping the two of us apart when you refuse to discuss it? Although it had not occurred to me that it might be your continuing…relationship with a married lady.”

  Ezra’s mouth tightened. “That is because it is not,” he snapped. “My affair with Lady Fairhurst was of short duration and over long ago. I am what is keeping us apart, Clara. Because there is no us. There can never, nor will there ever be, an us. Is that clear enough for you?”

  Clara’s cheeks paled even more. “Because you are still in love with Anna Fairhurst!”

  “I am not in love with her!” Ezra exploded in frustration. “I was never in love with her. It was twenty years ago, and she was…unhappy in her marriage. We shared a brief dalliance. I do not love her now, nor did I love her then.” He was far from proud of the admission in regard to a married lady, but he had been aged eighteen at the time and flattered by the slightly older woman’s attentions.