Page 33 of Her Sort of Scoundrel
After years of knowing her, talking to her, seeing her in every sort of mood, he knew with utter certainty that Fiona Elizabeth Fitzroy Prescott was happy to see him.
“You may, love,” he told her. “I can be a patient man.”
She arched one dark blonde brow at that and then graced him with a smile.
* * *
Patience,whether Dash knew it or not, was precisely what she was about to ask of him. And she hoped he was right, and that he had somehow developed that virtue over the years. She was well aware that she herself was often short on patience.
Now was a perfect example.
Looking at Dash, the angles of his gorgeous face limned in the waning golds of sunset, she wanted nothing so much as to rush into his arms, kiss him with all the need she’d felt in the last few days, and never let him go again.But she’d thought a good deal about what she was about to say. Indeed, in coming to Cambridgeshire, she’d come to the one place that would allow her to arrive at the decision she had. A place where she could see a loving family and her best friend thriving, despite Caroline’s choice to marry.
Now she had to get her explanation out without giving in to the temptation of the tall, dark, handsome man looking at her as if he was starving for the mere taste of her.
“I think we should maintain our own households,” she started, not at all certain that was the proper place to begin. “Maybe it will cause gossip, and perhaps I won’t always wish it to be that way. But now, in the beginning, I’d like to maintain Prescott House.”
She risked a glance at Dash and couldn’t quite read the expression on his face. He looked confused and yet intrigued too.
“I know it was the house that Leonard purchased after our marriage, but it is mine now. And, trust me, he never spent much time within its walls. Once you’ve spent some time there, you’ll realize it is well and truly a place I’ve made my own.”
“I’m sure you have.”
“But I’m more than content to make Granford House my main residence.” She flashed him a look. “Especially in the evenings.”
He swallowed hard at that and when she paused, he looked as if he was bursting to ask a question, but she stayed him once more.
“I will expect more independence than you may be willing to give, but it will never be in an attempt to be separate from you or not involve you in my life. Of course, I’ll come to you with ideas and decisions, but I do want the freedom to make choices—financial, social, political—on my own.”
“Of course,” he murmured immediately. “But…”
“I’m almost done,” she told him softly. “I promise.”
She drew in a deep breath and let it out on a shuddery exhale. The next part was the hardest.
“Dash, I do not know if I am capable of having a child—”
“Fi—”
“No, please. Just a moment more.” She swallowed deeply and closed her eyes. Memories flooded her mind, and she let them pass. Accepted that past pain, and opened her eyes again, determine to forge a path forward.
“I was with child once with Leopold. I lost the babe quite early on, and we never tried again. I do not know the cause of the loss, whether it was some irregularity of my body or even his.” She locked her gaze on Dash’s. His was so full of tenderness and love. “I might be willing to try again, but I cannot promise any particular outcome.”
He’d stepped closer as she spoke. One step. Then a pause. Then another.
Now she closed the distance between them and went into his arms.
He held her tight, seeming to know, as he was so good at doing, that she just needed his nearness and quiet for a moment.
But being near him, holding him, stoked the craving she’d felt for him since they’d last seen each other. She arched back and reached up to touch his face.
“I missed you,” she confessed.
The smile he gave her was so boyish, so wonderstruck, that she found herself tracing the curve of it with her fingertips.
He kissed her fingertips.
“I missed you,” he said after catching the last briefly between his teeth.
