Page 96 of The Scent of Intuition
He knelt beside the bed, his eyes locking onto Bea’s. “It’s tearing me apart,” he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. “Loving you is the most excruciatingly beautiful sentiment I’ve ever felt. I know I’m not what society deems worthy of you, but I can’t help it. My heart chose you, and now it’s broken because it feels like I’m living a forbidden dream.”
Bea reached out, her fingers trembling as they touched his cheek. “Alfie,” she whispered, her voice a delicate mixture of wonder and sorrow.
He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch, savoring the warmth and softness of her skin against his. “I thought I was pouring my heart out in vain,” he confessed, his voice shaking. “I thought you could never return my love.” He held her journal up from the nightstand. “But then I read this.”
Tears spilled from Bea’s eyes as she cupped his face with both hands. “You’re wrong, Alfie,” she said, her voice breaking, the words choked with emotion. “I love you too. With every beat of my heart, I love you.”
Alfie’s eyes snapped open, disbelief mingling with an overwhelming surge of hope and joy. “But can you marry me against your father’s wishes?”
“Yes,” Bea nodded, her tears mingling with a radiant smile. “I don’t care about societal norms or what my father thinks. All I care about is you.”
In that moment, the world outside ceased to exist. The garden, the estate, the societal expectations—all faded into oblivion as Alfie leaned in and captured Bea’s lips in a searing kiss. It was a kiss that held all the passion, longing, and love they had both kept locked away for so long.
In each other’s arms, they found solace and strength. It was a love that defied the boundaries of their world and promised a future where they could be together, no matter the odds. And in the quiet sanctity of that room, Alfie’s and Bea’s hearts finally beat as one, united by a love that was destined to withstand the tests of time.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Two months later at Silvercrest Manor…
Every Sunday forseveral weeks now, all the doctors from Harley Street had come to the country estate. Pippa and Nick had taken their honeymoon there and their Sunday reunions were a welcome pleasure. Plus, Bea and Alfie had been there when the banns were read. And this morning, they’d married in a small church among their closest friends. Stan, Violet, and Henry had been there, too, even though Violet had grown a bit round with child and fanned herself during the entire ceremony in the small and stuffy church.
“I have a wedding present for you,” Alfie said when the door to Bea’s bed chamber shut with a click. He leaned back and held something behind his back in his left hand, while he turned the key with his right and left it in the lock.
“What are you hiding from me?” Bea cocked her head and took a step toward him. She could tell it was wicked by the look on his face but didn’t dare ask. A mischievous glint in his eyes mixed with a grin that bubbled from within him and then his face brightened, and he beamed.
“This is the key. No, it’s your jewel.”
“Jewel?” She had enough jewelry. What Bea had in mind for this night was different.
He stepped closer, still hiding something behind his back. And as he walked toward her, Bea couldn’t suppress her glee that this extraordinarily handsome man was hers. The curl thatdraped over his forehead a little, the short dark lashes rimming his teal-green eyes—everything about him was perfection.
When he smiled, Bea’s insides melted. When he kissed her, she was ablaze. His voice resonated through her very core and when she lay her hands on his chest to feel his heart, she knew it beat for her. Plus, his fingers were wickedly capable—not merely in his apothecary.
Bea sucked her lower lip in.
“Do you wish to say something?” Alfie asked.
I want to feel you inside me.
“I mustn’t,” Bea mumbled.
“Ah! That’s exactly what I thought.” He faced her, a small green glass bottle in his hand.
“Is this for me?”
“It’s for me,” he said but held the little bottle out to her. “A map.”
“Perfume.”
“No, this is not perfume because it has a taste and a scent. It’s sweet almond oil with vanilla and a little of the neroli oil from Pippa’s orangery. I added some pine honey.”
“Most certainly for me.” Bea reached for it and lifted the glass stopper from the bottle. It smelled floral and sweet, like a freshly-baked almond torte.
“No. Some of my friends are jewelers, and they have stories about each piece they craft. I wanted to give you something precious, but more private. So, I mixed this for you, and I vow to make you as much as you need, a lifetime supply at your pleasure.”
Bea narrowed her eyes.Pleasure?
“Why do I need this and how is it a map?” Bea asked.
