Page 60 of Snowbound Surrender
The room fell silent. Antoinette, Lady Quamby, had been orchestrating this from the beginning, preparing for the reconciliation she’d been so certain would come.
“You impossible, meddling, wonderful woman,” her sister said with exasperated affection.
“I prefer to think of myself as romantically practical,” Lady Quamby replied serenely. “Now, Mr. Morley, I believe you have something to say to Lady Lushington. And what better place to say it than where your story began to unfold?”
Nicholas stepped forward, his eyes never leaving Arabella’s face. “Would you... that is, might you consider walking with me? There are things I need to say, explanations I owe you.”
“Yes,” Arabella whispered, her heart hammering against her ribs. “Yes, I think I should like that very much.”
As they prepared to venture out into the snow-covered night, James caught Nicholas’s arm. “Take care of her,” he said quietly. “She’s given up enough for the people she loves.”
“I intend to spend the rest of my life making up for lost time,” Nicholas replied solemnly. “She’ll never have cause to sacrifice her happiness again.”
CHAPTER 21
The pavilion glowed warmlyagainst the snowy landscape, its windows golden with firelight. True to Lady Quamby’s word, the little structure had been transformed into a haven of comfort and intimacy, with a fire crackling merrily in the grate and soft blankets arranged invitingly.
“She really is impossible,” Arabella said softly as Nicholas helped her remove her snow-dampened cloak.
“Impossibly wonderful,” he agreed. “Without her meddling, I might never have found the courage to come for you tonight.”
They stood facing each other in the warm, flickering light, suddenly shy despite everything they had shared, everything they had endured. The last time they had been alone in this place, they had made love with desperate passion, believing themselves reunited. Now they knew the truth—all of it—and somehow that made this moment even more precious.
“Nicholas,” Arabella began, then stopped, not knowing how to begin.
“I know,” he said softly, moving closer. “There’s so much to say, so much to forgive?—”
“Forgive?” She needed his clarification.
“For doubting you. For believing the worst. For not trusting in what I knew of your character.” Gently, he cupped her face. “I loved you five years ago, and I should have known—should have trusted—that the woman I loved could never have acted from mere greed.”
“But you couldn’t have known?—”
“I should have known you,” he insisted. “Should have seen that no woman capable of the tenderness you showed me could be the calculating creature everyone claimed you were.” His thumb traced the line of her cheek. “Can you forgive me for being so blind?”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” she whispered. “You did what any rational man would do when faced with such evidence. And tonight... tonight you risked everything to save me, even believing I had betrayed you.”
“Because even thinking the worst of your motives, I couldn’t bear to see you harmed.” With his other hand, he framed her face completely. “And because, God help me, I never stopped loving you. Not for a single day in five years.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks. “I thought you despised me. When I heard you say those things to Algernon?—”
“It nearly killed me to speak those words,” he said roughly. “Every syllable was agony. But it was the only way to get close enough to destroy his hold over you.”
“You saved me,” she whispered. “You saved me when I thought myself beyond salvation.”
“We saved each other,” he corrected, pulling her closer. “You saved me from a life of bitterness and regret. Your courage, your sacrifice—it humbles me.”
“I’m not courageous,” she protested. “I was terrified every moment.”
“You were terrified, yet you acted anyway. You chose love over safety, sacrifice over selfishness. That’s the very definitionof courage.” His lips brushed her forehead. “I’m not worthy of such a woman.”
“You’re worthy of everything good in this world,” she said fiercely. “You came for me. You fought for me. You’ve given me back my freedom and my future.”
“Then share that future with me,” he said, dropping to one knee with sudden formality. “Marry me, Arabella. Not because you’re forced to, not because circumstances compel you, but because you choose to. Because you want to.”
Through her tears, she could see the love shining in his eyes, the hope and fear warring in his expression. Outside, snow continued to fall, blanketing the world in pristine white as it had that first night when they’d found each other again.
“Yes,” she whispered, then louder, with joy: “Yes, Nicholas. Yes, with all my heart.”
