Page 72 of Captivated
But her arms were strong enough as she pushed at him. “Don’t.”
Ignoring her, Nash pulled her close and buried his face in her hair. He drew in her scent like breath. “God, Morgana, just give me a minute. Let me hold you.”
She shook her head, but her arms, her treacherous arms, were already wrapping hard around him. Her moan was not of protest, but of need, when his mouth rushed to hers and took. He sank into her like a parched man into a clear, cool lake.
“Don’t say anything,” he murmured as he rained kisses over her face. “Don’t say anything until I’ve told you what I have to tell you.”
Remembering what he had told her before, she struggled against him. “I can’t go through this again, Nash. I won’t.”
“No.” He caught her hands by the wrists, his eyes burning into hers. “No walls this time, Morgana. On either side. Your word.”
She opened her mouth to refuse, but there was something in his eyes she was powerless against. “You have it,” she said briefly. “I want to sit down.”
“Okay.” He let her go, thinking it might be best if he wasn’t touching her while he was struggling to fight his way clear of the morass he’d made of things. When she sat on the rock, folded her hands in her lap and lifted her chin, he remembered he’d given serious thought to murdering her.
“No matter how bad things were, you shouldn’t have run away.”
Her eyes widened and gleamed. “I?”
“Yes, you,” he shot back. “Maybe I was an idiot, but that’s no reason for making me suffer the way you did when you weren’t there when I came to my senses.”
“So, it’s my fault.”
“That I’ve been going out of my mind for the last month? Yeah, it is.” He blew out a breath between his teeth. “Everything else, all the rest of it’s on my head.” He took a chance and touched a hand to her cheek. “I’m sorry.”
She had to look away or weep. “I can’t accept your apology until I know what it’s for.”
“I knew you’d make me crawl,” he said in disgust. “Fine, then, I’m sorry for all the stupid things I said.”
Her lips curved a little. “All of them?”
Out of patience now, he hauled her back to her feet. “Look at me, damn it, I want you to look at me when I tell you I love you. That I know it has nothing to do with charms or spells, that it never did. That all it has to do with is you, and me.”
When she closed her eyes, he felt panic skitter up his spine. “Don’t shut me out, Morgana. I know that’s what I did to you. I know it was stupid. I was scared. Hell, I was terrified. Please.” He cupped her face in his hands. “Open your eyes and look at me.” When she did, he let out a shudder of relief. He could see it wasn’t too late. “This is a first for me,” he said carefully. “First I have to ask you to forgive me for the things I said. I can tell you that I didn’t mean them, that I was just using them to push you away, but that’s not the point. I did say them.”
“I understand being afraid.” She touched her hand to his wrist. “If it’s forgiveness you want, you have it. There’s no need to hold it back from you.”
“Just like that?” He pressed his lips to her brow, her cheeks. “You don’t want to maybe turn me into a flounder for three or four years?”
“Not for a first offense.” She drew back, praying they could find some light and friendly plane to walk on for a little while. “You’ve had a long trip, and you’re tired. Why don’t we go back in? The wind’s picking up,and it’s nearly teatime.”
“Morgana.” He held her still. “I said I loved you. I’ve never said that to anyone before. Not to anyone in my life before you. It was hard the first time, but I think it might get easier as we go.”
She looked away again. Her mother would have recognized it as evasion. Nash saw it as dismissal. “You said you loved me.” His voice tightened, and so did his grip.
“Yes, I did.” She met his eyes again. “And I do.”
He gathered her close again to rest his brow on hers. “It feels good,” he said in a wondering voice. “I didn’t know how damn good it would feel to love someone, to have her love me back. We can go from here, Morgana. I know I’m not a prize, and I’ll probably mess up. I’m not used to having someone there for me. Or for being there for someone else. But I’ll give it all I’ve got. That’s a promise.”
She went very still. “What are you saying?”
He stepped back, nervous all over again, and stuck his hands in his pockets. “I’m asking you to marry me. Sort of.”
“Sort of?”
He swore. “Look, I want you to marry me. I’m not doing a good job of asking. If you want to wait until I’ve set the stage, gotten down on one knee with a ring in my pocket, okay. It’s just... I love you so much, and I didn’t know I could feel this way, be this way. I want a chance to show you.”
“I don’t need a stage, Nash. And I wish it could be simple.”
