He’s drenched. He’s a mess. He is utterly, sinfully gorgeous.
“Oh. My.God,” I wheeze, knees wobbling like they’ve forgotten how to function.
I had ONE glass of wine last night. ONE. This can’t be a hangover hallucination, can it?
Either my telly’s sprung to life, or Edward Cavendish has completely lost his mind.
CHAPTER 47
Daisy
My mouth hangs openas he drags himself out of the lake, water cascading off him.
I sprint to him, my heart pounding so hard it might break free from my chest and start doing laps around the lake itself.
He straightens, water dripping from his hair, his ruined wedding suit clinging to him. He looks at me calmly like he hasn’t just driven a full horse-drawn carriage into a body of water.
And,oh, the shirt. The transparent, clinging,wetshirt.
“Hello, Daisy,” he says.
I skid to a stop, breathless.
“And you callmechaos?” I blurt. “Sophia’s going to murder you. Pretty sure ‘brother of the bride commits grand theft carriage and drowns it’ wasn’t covered by the wedding insurance.”
His lips twitch. “She’s going to be even madder if I don’t bring you back.”
I suck in a breath, still dazed, still trying to process the absolute insanity of what just happened. Still tryingvery hardnot to stare at hisdark nipplesthrough his wet shirt.
“Edward,” I start. “I—”
“Please,” he interrupts. “Hear me out.”
“Hello, love!” Mum calls cheerfully from the cottage.
Edward, still dripping wet, turns his attention to her.
“Ah, Caroline,” he says smoothly, nodding at my mother. “You look beautiful.”
Never forgets his bloody manners.
Then, his attention shifts back to me.
“Daisy,” he begins, his voice rough. “I owe you an apology. A proper one. I was a coward. Abloody, unthinking cowardwho made you feel like you were some kind of secret. That I wasn’t proud to be with you.” He swallows hard, his jaw flexing. “But Iwas. God, Iwas.”
My heart hammers against my ribs as he steps closer. Water trickles down his face, catching on those perfect cheekbones, and I have to physically stop myself from reaching up to brush it away.
“The truth is, I was scared.”
I blink at him.Edward Cavendish, scared?
“Scared of how much you mean to me. Scared of how bloody hard I’ve fallen for you. And terrified that if I pulled you into my world—this suffocating world—you’d see just how different we are, and you’d decide you didn’t want me at all.” His throat bobs. “That you’d wake up one day and realize I’m just a workaholic with a stick up my ass ninety percent of the time.”
I almost laugh except my chest is too tight, my pulse too erratic, my emotions too tangled to manage anything beyond standing here, rooted to the spot, absorbing every word.
“All the things I can offer a woman, my family name, a fancy job, a nice house, none of those things are important to you. And instead of appreciating that, it made me question what I could give you. What could I offer someone like you? Someone brilliant, someone kind, someone breathtaking enough to haveanythingshe wants?”
“Edward,” I start, but he cuts me off.
