Max looked as stunned as if she’d hit him over the head with the Bible rather than handing it to him.

He sat back on his heels. “I can’t believe it.”

“Truly? You are the one who came here to make the claim,” she pointed out.

“Yes, but I never expected it to hold water. I always assumed the stories my father told were fairy tales.”

He rarely referenced his family — by design, most likely, since she’d told him she didn’t expect him to share anything truthful until he was legally declared the earl. With the proof they needed right in front of them, she could indulge her curiosity.

“What stories did he tell you?” she asked, carefully setting the Bible aside.

Max shrugged. “He had too many dreams, too many children, and not enough money. He had a small teashop in London — he sold tea to your grandfather, among others. When I was small, I believed him when he said we could have been Briarleys if our luck had been different. But when my father died and Lord Maidenstone didn’t acknowledge me or pay his final debts, I assumed it had all been another dream of his.”

“Grandfather always paid his debts,” Lucy said.

The glance he gave her said that he thought she was naïve at best. “Don’t be surprised that he didn’t. Most lords don’t pay in a timely manner. He ignored me the day I called on him, desperate for money after my father died.”

“That doesn’t sound like him,” she retorted. But another detail in his story had caught her attention. “Why do you say your father had too many children? Were there others between you and Cressida?”

“You’re curious tonight, aren’t you?” he said, after a pause that was long enough to be noticeable.

“These are questions I would have asked before if I’d thought you could give me answers without harming your chance to inherit. Now, though — you know you can have everything here, right?”

“Everything?” he drawled.

The look he gave her was suddenly heated.

His gaze dropped to her lips, and she licked them without thinking. “Everything,” she said, matching his look with one of her own. She wasn’t made for adventure, but she knew she wasn’t a saint.

“Men from my class can never have everything,” he said softly. “That’s your world, Lucy, not mine.”

“No one can have everything, no matter their class.” Then she took a breath, gathered every ounce of courage, and said, “But Maidenstone is yours. As am I, if you’ll have me.”

“What happened to wanting an adventure?” he said.

His voice was light and his eyes were shadowed. She knew he was rebuffing her, knew how this game was supposed to be played. But it didn’t hurt as much as it should have. She couldn’t bring herself to become indignant or to walk away.

He hadn’t expected any of this to happen. He didn’t think he deserved it. He was convinced that he would lose it. And if his father had died and left him with nothing, she could understand how that might make him less secure in his good fortune now.

She knew how that felt. She’d been half-convinced for months that she would lose Maidenstone, even though she’d planned to do everything she could to keep it. But now, with hindsight, she knew Emma had been right — Lucy hadn’t made any serious effort with any of the suitors. She’d already thought she had lost. Marrying one of them would have ruined her life if she’d been stuck with a bad husband and still lost Maidenstone.

Max, though — he was the first one whom she would gladly take even if she got nothing at all in return.

And she couldn’t let him walk away now, whether he was the rightful heir to Maidenstone or not.

The sudden clarity shook her. But her Briarley heart whispered mine, as it never had for anyone else.

She took a breath, willing him to hear the truth in her voice. “You would be enough of an adventure for me.”

He laughed, but it no longer sounded light. “You’re more right than you know, sweetheart.”

He returned the Bible to Callie’s chest. She stayed silent as he repacked the trunk, leaving nothing out of place. When he’d finished, he let his hand rest on the top of the chest as though he was saying a prayer.

“What are you afraid of, Max?” she asked, her voice dropping to a whisper to match the heavy silence of the buried strongroom.

“None of this is what I expected.” He paused, but she waited until he continued, his voice almost inaudible. “You aren’t what I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

He turned to face her fully, close enough that their legs brushed against each other. “I never expected you to support my claim,” he said.

She tilted her head. “I don’t think that’s what you meant.”

His laugher sounded almost pained. “You never let me get away with anything, do you?”

“Do you want me to be the perfect society miss with no opinions?” she asked. “It might be a struggle.”

He laughed again, but the pain was gone. “I cannot imagine a world in which you would succeed at that. But no. I love your opinions.”

Chapman had never liked it when she spoke her real mind. Most men didn’t.

Max, though, was something else entirely. And he seemed to want her, not her body or her estate or the idea of claiming her as some sort of trophy. Even if he was currently trying rather desperately to deny it.

“Then what did you expect here, Max?”

“I expected that my claim was invalid. I expected that I would leave in the end and return to my old life. I mostly came on a lark — I wanted to see how the Briarleys lived, and perhaps give Cress a chance to meet a man above her station. But I never expected the chance to stay.”

Something with his explanation rang false — only hours earlier, he’d been warning Cress away from the men at the party. But the subconscious, whispered warning couldn’t compete with the way her heart pounded when he looked at her. His smile grew crooked. His eyes were somehow warm and sad all at once.

“I never expected how tempted I would be by you,” he continued. “I had a plan for my life. And you’re tempting me to abandon all of it and stay.”

“Be tempted,” she said. “Stay. You can’t possibly leave if you’re the heir.”

“It’s not Maidenstone that I’m tempted by,” he said, touching her cheek.

There was so much she didn’t know about him, or why he was really there, or what he’d hoped to gain if he had always believed that his claim would be disproved. But she was sure she could trust the look in his eyes and the warmth of his touch.

“It’s not Maidenstone that I’m doing this for either,” she whispered, placing her hand over his when he started to pull away.

Their gazes met. In the candlelight, in Maidenstone’s most secret place, there was no one to catch them, no thought of the other people who relied upon them. It’s not that she forgot, precisely, about Julia or Emma or the servants and tenants — she never could. But there, alone, she could make a choice for her own sake, not theirs.

So she leaned forward, slowly, his hand still on her cheek. When his fingers shifted to her neck, no longer passive, she smiled.

And then she kissed him. It was slow and sensual, as though neither of them wanted to disturb whatever spell had been cast upon them — as though they both still feared that they could lose it all with the slightest misstep.

But there was nothing in that kiss that felt like a mistake. She lingered over his closed lips, sliding her hand to his cheek and reveling in the contrast between the warmth of his kiss and the hard plane of his jaw. He let her linger for awhile, but for once, he was not a patient man.

He shifted and pulled her into his lap. His lips found hers again, and it felt like he was claiming her — branding her, with the heat of his mouth on hers and his heavy hand still resting on her hip.

She didn’t care anymore if this was a bad idea. She could almost tell herself she didn’t even care if it lasted.

This was the adventure she wanted.

He knew what he was doing with his mouth. Chapman’s kisses had tasted like alcohol, stolen in dark corners and never quite what she wanted. But Max kissed her like he was worshipping her. He kissed her like he couldn’t believe his luck.

That feeling was heady. He kissed her until she was out of breath — and kept kissing her until she learned how to breathe with him, until she learned how a kiss could keep her alive.

She’d never felt more alive than this. The realization startled her — startled her even more when she noticed that his hands were moving down her décolletage to cup her breasts.

Her nipples tightened under his hands. It was cool in the strongroom, but she felt like she was burning — so hot, suddenly, that she would have stripped her dress off of her own volition just to get some air.

But he’d beaten her to that thought. One of his hands dropped to her ankle, skimming up her leg and pulling her skirts with it. The graze of his fingers felt dangerous. No one had done this since Chapman….

She wouldn’t think about Chapman.

Max’s mouth left hers. She whimpered when he did and was ashamed of the sound — it sounded animalistic, like a woman who couldn’t control herself.

But then Max slid her bodice off her shoulders and looked down at her breasts. He smiled, looking every bit as uncontrolled as she felt. “It feels right that we’re in a strongroom,” he said, almost growling it. “You’re the only treasure at Maidenstone worth guarding.”

He captured one of her nipples with his teeth. She almost shrieked when he did — her skin was more sensitive than she’d guessed. He seemed to know exactly the right way to touch her, to make her come alive with need. He licked and sucked, teasing her, tormenting her, until she’d buried her hands in his hair and didn’t want to let him go. And meanwhile, his hand was moving slowly, inexorably, ever closer to her core….

She shoved herself away from him in a rush of energy. Had she completely lost her mind?

“What’s wrong?” he asked urgently, as she shoved her skirt down and pulled her bodice up.

“Nothing,” she said. “It’s just, it’s late, and I should really be in bed. I’ll need to wake up early….”

He leaned forward and put a hand on her arm — comforting, not threatening. “Shhh,” he said softly, as though calming a startled horse. “Shhh. Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head. Her breath was still coming in little shuddering gasps and her body was starting to realize that it wouldn’t get to finish what Max had started — and it was bitterly disappointed by that fact. She suspected that whatever he’d planned for her would have been good.

But would he be able to tell, just by touching her, that she wasn’t a virgin? That she’d given birth?

She looked into his eyes. She saw bewilderment there, and banked desire — but she also saw concern.

Chapman probably would have forced her if she’d said no after the first time. Max looked like he would kill anyone who attempted to harm her — including himself.

“You didn’t hurt me,” she said quietly. “It’s just…I can’t do this. Not now.”

He shoved a hand through his hair, disrupting it even more than she had only moments before. “Bloody hell. I’m sorry, Lucy. I forgot that you’d be a virgin. Thank you for stopping me. I don’t think I would have remembered in time.”

She felt a little heartbreak and a whole lot of guilt at his words. But the secret of her virginity — or lack thereof — wasn’t hers alone. It impacted Julia too.

And as much as she wanted to trust Max, she couldn’t bring herself to take this final step.

“Don’t apologize,” she said. “You didn’t hurt me. If anything, you made me see what I’ve been missing. Maybe that’s what you should apologize for.”

He quirked a little grin, but it looked pained. “Can’t say I’m glad that we stopped, but it’s for the best. We should go upstairs before I ravish you anyway.”

His tone didn’t hold any threat — if anything, she wished she could encourage him. But she looked away, rearranging her clothing as best she could.

He pulled her to her feet. She didn’t let go of his hand after she was standing — she cupped his hand in hers. “I just want you to know that I didn’t stop you because of your background. And I didn’t start kissing you because you might be the earl. I wanted you, Max — not your title. And I would have taken everything if I could.”

His eyes darkened. He brought his other hand up to caress her cheek. “I didn’t think I could have you. Still don’t, if I’m being honest. But if I really am the earl….”

He trailed off. Her heart, which had tried not to hope for anything, sped up.

“If I’m really the earl, it changes things. But you would still have to decide if you really want me.”

Lucy tried not to let her smile grow too wide. “I really want you.”

He laughed, short and mirthless. “Don’t tell me that when my body’s still trying to get over the fact that it won’t be having you tonight,” he said. “You’re giving it ideas.”

They walked out of the strongroom hand in hand. On the other side of the door, she locked the first lock — but then realized the Chinese lock wasn’t anywhere nearby. “Do you have the second lock?” she asked him.

He patted his jacket, then looked at her apologetically. “I must have left it somewhere in the strongroom.”

She shrugged. “No one knows where the strongroom is anyway — I’ll tell Claxton to find it tomorrow.”

They went upstairs in silence, neither talking as they navigated the darkened halls to the family wing. But outside her door, Max touched her shoulder. “Thank you for putting your support behind my inheritance,” he said quietly. “I never expected you to.”

She nodded. “You would make a good earl, Max. I hope I’m at Maidenstone to see it, but you would do well here even without me.”

She couldn’t be quite that selfless if it really came to that. But there was a light in Max’s eyes that made her hope she wouldn’t have to be.

He kissed her again. He kissed her like he couldn’t resist her — like she was a treat he’d been forbidden to have. He kissed her until her lips were swollen again, and she was beginning to wonder if there was something they could do in bed that wouldn’t result in him learning any of her secrets….

But he remembered to pull away before she did. “Let’s talk tomorrow. If Ferguson will support my claim — and if you haven’t changed your mind — maybe I should change my plans.”

She nodded, not trusting her voice to respond. He walked down the hall to his room, shoving his hands through his hair again, and slipped into his room.

She smiled. It felt reckless, premature, and slightly scary. She still knew virtually nothing about him, other than that his claim to the Maidenstone title was real.

But for a night, at least, she could dream that it would all come out right in the end.