Page 70 of Romancing the Scot
“Don’t torment me. Don’t encourage me to remember. I’ve forgotten none of it,” she said softly, pushing his hand away. “But you must understand that such wantonness is not part of who I am. It’s not the way I was brought up. It’s not the way I behave. But last night . . . the way I acted. The things I said. That was not stealing a kiss. I brazenly encouraged you to do more. Much, much more.”
And he intended to do much, much more. For a long time to come. But her innocence still astounded him. “You’re a grown woman, Grace.”
Her gaze flew to his face. Tears shone in her beautiful eyes. She was genuinely upset.
“Iama grown woman. A spinster of eight and twenty years who’s never allowed herself to be caught up in any romantic trysts. I’ve never given my heart or my body to a man. I’ve avoided the temptation of liaisons everywhere I’ve lived.” She stabbed at a tear that slid down her cheek. “I don’t know why I allowed myself to start now. It’s inexcusable that I have led you on when . . . when in two days, I am going to ask you to keep your promise.”
Her words stabbed at him. She couldn’t be talking about leaving, he told himself. Not now. Sometime amid the happenings of this past week, he’d cast off that conversation. Everything was different between them now.
“What promise?”
“Of sending me to Antwerp.”
Hugh’s temper flared, and he had a difficult time holding it in check. “No. That will not be happening. That promise was made before I knew who you were. Everything has changed. I have feelings for you, and I know you have feelings for me. You can’t deny it.”
“But you gave me your word.”
“I insisted that you wait a fortnight before we discussed it again. You decided you’d be well enough to leave in a week. I don’t care what was said, but I will willingly, merrily renege on any promise that allows you to go to Antwerp.”
Hugh sounded petulant even to himself, but he didn’t care. He wanted her to stay.
“You’re not being reasonable.” She matched his sharp tone. “You know who I am, as does Jo. But so do others, now that Mrs. Douglas knows. Can’t you see this is even more reason for me to go? My family are still considered traitors to the crown. I am not only the daughter of Daniel Ware; I’m also a Macpherson, a Jacobite on my mother’s side. Enemies to the English government everywhere you turn. I cannot stay here and simply wish those things away. I’ll not do that to you, to Jo, or to your family.”
None of this mattered. He didn’t care who her family was, or where she’d come from. All of this was irrelevant to Hugh. He’d fallen in love with Grace. She was the only thing that mattered.
He repeated the words in his mind.He was in love with her.But she was too upset. She wasn’t hearing him. She was too caught up in the drama of her situation to listen to him declare his affection. Or admit what he knew was in her heart.
“I need to tell you something I did this morning,” Hugh said, forcing a note of calm into his voice.
“There is nothing that you’ve done or will do that can change my mind.”
He hoped she was wrong. “Hear me out.”
“Please . . . don’t do this. Don’t you see it’s best if you just let me go?”
He wouldn’t do that. He couldn’t let Grace walk out of his life. And arguing about it wasn’t about to accomplish anything. He reined the horses to a stop. Baronsford sat majestically on the rise behind them. The forest and the road to Melrose lay straight ahead.
“After leaving your bedroom last night, I wrote a letter to the Prince Regent. I asked him to grant you a pardon.”
This morning, after sending the letter off by express, he’d thought that he would hold back telling her about it until he had an answer. But now he realized she had a right to know.
Glistening tears ran freely down her face as she stared at him.
“I put the full force of the Pennington name behind the appeal. My name, my father’s. All the service and influence we represent. I explained your past circumstance, your present situation . . . and my intentions,” Hugh told her, taking her hand. Her fingers were ice cold as he brought them to his lips. “I love you, Grace. And in that letter I made it known that I’m planning to marry you, if you’ll have me. If you find me . . .”
She didn’t wait for him to say anything more. Her arms were around his neck. She wept softly as her lips pressed against his.
Hugh lifted her onto his lap as he kissed her cheeks and her lips, tasting the saltiness of her tears. He held her against him, knowing that he would never let her go, regardless of what the Prince Regent decided. Hugh had influence at court. He would fight for her and for their happiness. He was even prepared to move, to go to the colonies or America as his uncle Pierce and his wife had done. He would do whatever was needed for them to be together.
“I love you,” she whispered against his lips. “I thought I’d die in the darkness of that crate, and yet now I know the wind and the ocean currents were carrying me to you. When that ship was tossed about in the sea, I didn’t know I was about to be caught up in an even more powerful storm . . . of affection, passion, and unmatched honor. You are that storm, and you’ve swept me away. You’ve made me dare to dream, but—”
“There is no ‘but,’ my love.”
She placed her fingers against his lips. Her face was so close that he could see his own reflection in the shining pools of tears in her eyes.
“But I want you to take back your offer of marriage.”
He took her hand away from his lips. “I’ll do no such thing. I intend to spend the rest of my life with you.”
