Page 40 of Wedded to the Forbidden Duke
She was studying his face, marveling at how his usual demeanor—so often either brooding or arrogant—had so quickly been softened. It was as though, for a moment, she could see a glimpse of the little boy he once had been before all of the grief and weight of responsibility had been thrust upon him so young.
He glanced back up at her and then shook his head. “Do not look at me like that.”
“Like what?” she asked, brow furrowing.
He sighed. “With pity,” he said, the words coming out clipped and strained through his tensed jaw. “I cannot bear it from anyone, but especially not from you.”
“I do not pity you,” she said, sounding surprised. “How could you think such a thing? When I have recently lost a parent of my own? I may not know your exact pain, but I know a pain very similar to it. You are one of the only people in the world who can understand what it is like. I would have thought you might like to share in that understanding.”
When Ian did not respond, she sat up straighter.
“I can go first if you would like,” she said, before taking a large sip of her wine, as if for courage.
After swallowing, she closed her eyes. When she opened them, Ian saw new pain there.
“My father was the most wonderful man I ever knew,” she said finally. “Every young lady thinks that about her father, I am sure, but it is true. He never ignored me to focus on Zachary, his heir, as I have seen many other fathers of thetondo. Instead, he encouraged me to expand my mind. He encouraged me to read. Great novels. Great works of philosophy. He brought in tutors so that I might receive an education equal to that of my brother. He taught me how to play chess.”
“A fine education indeed,” Ian murmured, rapturously engaged in her speech. This explained so much about his wife. Her wit, her passion. The intelligence burned through her eyes like twin pools of jade fire. “He sounds like a remarkable man.”
“He was. The most remarkable.” She stopped and looked down into her wine glass. “When he died,” she finally continued, “it was like my heart had been torn in two.”
“I am so sorry,” Ian said gently, mirroring her apology from before. She shook her head. “Not just for his passing.”
She looked up. “What do you mean?”
“You spoke to me of the promises he made you swear to him,” Ian said slowly. “I…have much regret, for anything I may have done to prevent you from keeping either of those promises.”
Cecilia looked at him for a long time. And then, to his surprise, she smiled.
“Oh, I do not know,” she said. “If things continue well between Zachary and Nancy, I have high hopes for the second promise. And, as to the first…” She paused. Then she looked him more fiercely in the eyes than she ever had before. Her hand turned up and gripped his tightly. “You are a very fine man, Ian Repington,” she said. “A most honorable man, indeed. I am certain that if my father were to have met you, he would have been most proud of me for marrying a man like you.”
Ian had not realized before that moment just how much he had needed to hear that.
Before he could tell as much, he saw a tear slip down her cheek. Without pausing, he reached out and caught it. Cecilia smiled, then pulled back to wipe her tears, looking a tad bit embarrassed.
“Well,” she said. “There. I hopeyouare not looking uponmewith pity, now.”
“I most certainly am not,” he said. “I was only thinking that…” He hesitated. Something in his face intrigued her.
“What?” she asked curiously.
“I was only thinking that I have not complimented you nearly enough.”
She rolled her eyes, laughing lightly. “You and your flattery.”
“Is it flattery if it is the truth?” he asked. When she did not protest any further, he continued, “Because the truth is, you are a passionate and intelligent woman. I am certain your father would be proud of the lady you have grown into, and I am proud to have you as my wife.”
A true, genuine smile rose to Cecilia’s face at that, even as her eyes pooled with fresh tears. She blinked them back. “Perhapsthe flattery would be best,” she said, fanning at the tears. “I seem to be a bit too softhearted today for anything sincere.”
“Very well.” Ian made a show of sitting up straighter as he waited for her to collect herself. “How is this, then: I find you to be remarkably beautiful.”
Even though she knew he was surely saying it in jest, Cecilia’s breath caught in her throat, though she tried to put on a facade of being calm and collected.
“I should certainly hope you do,” she said, attempting a playful tone even as her heart thumped in her chest. “I am your wife, after all.”
He chuckled slightly, but for the most part, his eyes remained intensely on hers. “No,” he said, and she was struck by the rawness in his voice. Any and all artifice had vanished, leaving behind pure, unfiltered lust that cut her to her core. “No, Cecilia. I always have.”
Chapter Seventeen
