Page 141 of The Formation of Us
“Well, I know Patrick, and my money is on him. He won’t quit until Iris speaks her wedding vows with him.”
“Good.” Faith smiled. “Ste needs a strong man who isn’t afraid of a challenge.”
“Then Patrick is her man.”
“And you’re mine,” she said, drawing him closer, making him tremble with the need to love her.
He felt the unmistakable tug of Cora’s small hand on his suit- coat. She looked up with bright eyes and a chocolate-smudged cheek that wrung his heart. “Will you dance with me, Daddy?”
He wanted to, but he couldn’t hold her in his arms yet. Faith reached down and lifted Cora onto her hip. “We’ll both dance with Daddy,” she said, and Duke gladly, joyfully drew his girls into his arms.
Chapter 44
After a long night of celebration, Faith reached for her husband, missing him, eager for his loving touch. But he stepped away from her and set the lantern on the table in the bathhouse.
“I want to give this to you first,” he said, pulling something from his coat pocket.
To her surprise, he placed her mother’s silver-handled hair brush in her hand. Her breath sighed out and she held the brush in her palms. “You found it!”
“I’d forgotten about it until I put my coat on tonight.”
“Oh, Duke, this is . . . it reminds me of the times Mama brushed my hair.” She stroked her fingers over the painted roses on the porcelain back, remembering those brief but warm moments with her mother. “She loved me.” The truth flowed into her heart, washing away the ache, leaving behind peace and love and forgiveness. “I was loved,” she whispered.
“You were. And you are.”
She drew the brush through her hair, feeling the delicious tug against her scalp and hearing the raspy sound of the bristles slipping through her hair. Her mother had loved her.
“I’ll brush your hair if you like,” Duke offered.
She raised her eyes to her husband, touched by his tender consideration, but she shook her head. She didn’t need her hair brushed anymore; she needed to be in her husband’s arms. She laid the brush on the table, at peace. “I want you to love me.”
“I do,” he said, his voice filled with sincerity and conviction. He embraced her.
“Even after all I’ve cost you?”
“You’ve brought me riches I never dreamed of.”
“Would you have chosen me if you’d known the truth?”
“The only truth that matters is that I met and fell in love with a brave, compassionate and loyal woman, and I chose with my head and my heart when I asked you to marry me.”
She cradled his firm jaw in her palms, loving the textures of his body and the smoldering heat in his eyes. “I could have been a wealthy princess with a kingdom of men to choose from, and I would have chosen you as the love of my life.” He would always be her friend, her lover, the man of her dreams.
o0o
A sense of homecoming filled Duke, and he kissed his wife, feeling a deep, burning need to make love with her. “I wanted to sneak you down here hours ago.”
“I’d have come willingly.” She kissed his neck. “I’ll always welcome your touch.” She nibbled his earlobe. “And your love.” She slid her hands down his sides. “And your passion.”
His groin tightened and his breath hissed out.
She stroked her hands up his chest. “I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispered, driving him mad with her fondling and teasing. “But I can’t stay away from you any longer. You might have to take a little discomfort with your pleasure.”
“Gladly.” He shook with a need to consume her, and yet he held back and kept the kiss tender. Love wasn’t for the fainthearted. But it was worth the wounds. It was worth every moment of doubt and pain. Because to live and love, one had to be willing to bleed.
“It’s been forever since you’ve kissed me,” she whispered against his mouth.
“I couldn’t kiss you and not make love to you.”
