Page 105 of Claimed By Her Forbidden Duke
He drew closer to her as if her step had snapped his restraint. He gathered her close, his hands cupping her face, and after Finley’s rough, painful handling, she tried not to melt into his touch. Her eyes closed as she pulled away.
“Do not… do not touch me so softly when those touches do not come with true affection,” she whispered hoarsely. “You have made yourself clear?—”
“Penelope,” he interrupted, laughing incredulously. “Do you not hear me? I am telling you that I never should have spoken such foul lies. They were the words of a scared man, but I am tired of being scared. My past had controlled me, a vengeful compass over my head, and I grew fearful when you were the only thing that could help me sleep at night, the only thing that could help me think straight and yet confuse me at the same time. You have encompassed me, and I meant it when I first told you that. You are beautiful, Penelope, and you were right. These nights… they have not been only two bodies tangling between the sheets. For without realizing it, I not only gave you pleasure but I have also given you my heart. I love you, Penelope, and I should have told you that the night you walked out. I am a fool, but I am a fool who will go down to his knees in a moment to beg for your forgiveness.”
And just as he’d said, he knelt before her.
“I thought dukes did not kneel to many,” she murmured, overwhelmed and distressed and anguished and so terriblyachingwith longing for this man—this man, who had hurt her with walls and pretenses and masks. And yet there he was, kneeling before her.
“This duke will kneel to his lady any day or night. This duke will kneel to his duchess.”
The word sang through her, freezing her completely. “Duchess?”
“Marry me, Penelope.” His voice was a whisper, breathless, a request she could refuse.
“You do not want to be a husband.”
“You often told me to drop my mask,” he argued. “Iamdropping it now, for you always know when I wear it. I trust you with my body, with my scars, with my past. I trust you with my heart. I cannot expect the same when I have given you no reason?—”
“I do not trust you.” Her words were shaky as she reached out to cup his face. “But I trust that you are scared, and that fear is complicated. I do not trust that you will don that mask when you need to, but Idotrust that you will tell me when it is on, and when you struggle to remove it. I trust that you will listen to me when I plead with you. I trust you with my body, Edmund. With my pain, and my heartache, and my dreams. My own fear has driven me, and I understand it well. But I will not marry a man who will not let me in.”
“I am ready to let you in,” he swore. “I am kneeling to you, Penelope. Heed that, and know it is because you will make the best duchess Blackstone has ever seen. Know it is because I love you, and have loved you ever since you lied to me about your identity outside of Julian’s house.”
Despite herself, despite the tremor wracking her body, Penelope laughed through tears that she didn’t realize had fallen.
“I trust that you will tell me when anything is too much,” he told her. “And I trust myself to tell you when my defenses are too high for even me to begin deconstructing them.”
Slowly, she nodded, her throat tight. “Do you truly mean it? You want me as your wife?”
“My wife—my Duchess, my lover, my match. I want you in every sense of the word. If you will take me. I have always believed I should not touch you, that my hands were too stained and scarred to ever be able to touch someone as perfect as you. Yet you placed my hands on you even after you knew what they had done, and you did not flinch. Let me find peace with you, Penelope. Hold me through every nightmare as I will hold you through any you have. Hold me through it all, as I will hold you.”
“I will,” she told him. “I will hold you, but…” she trailed off, looking into those gray eyes that had her rooted to the spot. “But I will do so again in your home or Julian’s. I do not wish to be here a moment longer.”
“It will be arranged,” he said immediately, smiling at her as he slowly rose to his feet.
Penelope quickly put her hands on his shoulders, keeping him down there. She could not bear to be touched, her body still shaking after what Finley had intended to do, but she knelt in front of Edmund and let him cup her face again as he drew her in for another kiss.
Epilogue
THREE MONTHS LATER
Penelope stood at the altar, trying to ease her nerves to no avail.
“I have never noticed what a terrible fidget you are.”
She looked up from where she had been fussing over her bouquet and met the piercing gaze of her soon-to-be husband.
“I never thought I would have this,” she huffed. “I think I am allowed a little nervous fidgeting.”
“So even standing before the Duke of Blackstone, waiting to be his Duchess, does not help?”
“It definitely does not help.” She giggled. “How can I ever be a duchess?”
Edmund hummed. “That is a good question—you are far too vulgar.”
“Edmund!” She couldn’t help her laughter or her nervous glance around the chapel.
Her dress swished around her ankles, a beautiful thing that Edmund had bought for her. It was made of a most luxurious silk, with a wide neckline that accentuated her shoulders.
