Page 107 of The Heiress's Daughter
“And you’re not furious with me? Or with Izzy?”
“Not a bit.” She didn’t seem to believe him, so he drew a finger down her cheek and added softly, “Stop worrying, sweetheart.”
The tears came then, and he gathered her into his arms and murmured soothing things, holding her soft body against him, rubbing her back soothingly. It was strangely peaceful in the quiet of the garden, sitting beneath a cascade of roses, their glorious scent dew-drenched and warming under the morning sun. Essence of Clarissa. She always smelled of roses.
After a few minutes her sobs slowed and drew to a shuddering close. He pulled out a handkerchief and dried her eyes.
She sat up, straightened her dress, and smoothed her hair back off her face. Struggling to regain her composure. Race just watched. After a moment, she darted him a doubtful glance. “You really don’t mind?”
“That sister of yours probably needs a good spanking, but no, I really don’t mind. Gossip doesn’t bother me. I’ve lived with it all my life. And her little scheme was dam—dashed clever, I have to admit.”
She sighed. “You probably won’t believe me, but I had decided to trust you before this happened. Because of that talk we had. In the curricle.”
“I believe you.”
She turned wide eyes to him. “Will you forgive me?”
“I will. On one condition.”
“Condition?” she repeated apprehensively.
“That you marry me as soon as possible.”
Her eyes widened. “You still want to marry me? After what we did?”
“I do. Very much.”
“Then I will marry you, Lord Randall,” she said shyly. “I know you care for me, and that will be enough because I love you and I trust you and—
“Carefor you? I don’t just care for you, you adorable goose. Iloveyou, madly, passionately, with every fiber of my body and every drop of blood in my heart. I adore you, I—” He gave up trying to explain—words were so inadequate—and decided to demonstrate.
Cupping her face in his hands he covered her mouth in a kiss. She kissed him back, with all the warmth and sweet eagerness he craved, twining her arms around him and pulling him close, as if she couldn’t get enough of him.
As he couldn’t get enough of her.
After a while, he forced himself to release her. His body was thrumming with desire and he had to fight for control. Why did this scene have to take place in the middle of ashared blasted garden, where anyone could come across them? On this blasted hard wooden seat. With bees buzzing around him. He surely did pick his moments. So much for the skilled rake.
He glanced down at the woman in his arms and all irritation faded away. Lord, but she was lovely.
Curled into the curve of his body, nestled against his heart, she gazed up at him, her eyes glowing with love and arousal. “You love me,” she said softly. It wasn’t a question.
“I have loved you almost since the beginning, since the Arden ball, in fact.”
She sat up and stared at him. “The Arden ball? When that horrid Lord Pomphret publicly denounced my sister Izzy as a bastard?”
He pulled her back where she belonged, in his arms, snuggled against his heart. “Yes. You marched across that dance floor like a young Boadicea, head held high, and claimed your sister, defying anyone to deny it. You were so beautiful and brave, I vowed then and there that you were the only woman for me, and I’d do whatever it took to win you for my bride.”
She let out a long, soft sigh and nuzzled her cheek against him. “I loved you, too, almost from the start.”
“Really? But you made it clear that you didn’t want anything to do with me.”
She gave him a rueful look. “I know. I’m sorry. I tried very hard not to fall in love with you, but I couldn’t help it. I was frightened of marrying a rake, you see, because of…” She looked away.
“Your father?” He understood now.
She nodded. “He broke my mother’s heart, over and over, with his infidelities. And then…Izzy’s mother…and Zoë’s.”
There was a short silence, then he said in a low voice, “I will treasure and protect your heart for as long as I live.” It was a vow.
