Instead, he laughed. That same caustic, knowing laugh.
In two steps, he filled her vision once more.
He cupped the back of her neck and pulled her against his chest, his lips claiming hers with terrifying ferocity.
Isolde arched into him, eagerly returning the embrace.
Drawing back, he pressed his forehead to hers once more.
“You are being rather slow on the uptake, Duchess. I told you yesterday thatloveandhateare binaries—two sides of the same coin.”
“Aye.”
“Ergo, I had to hate you, because otherwise, I would have had to admit that I . . .”
Maddeningly, he trailed off without completing the sentence.
His mouth claimed hers once more, kissing with erotic thoroughness. She clung to him, breathless.
“In short,” he growled in his gravellyKendallvoice, “you alreadyownmy soul, Wife.”
His hands left her so abruptly, Isolde took an involuntary step forward.
He turned and picked up his axe in one hand. Bending, he scooped up his shirt and coat in the other.
Isolde watched him walk away, helplessly admiring the lithe stretch of his gait, the bunched muscles between his shoulder blades.
I had to hate you because otherwise, I would have had to admit that I . . . love you.
She touched trembling fingertips to her swollen lips.
Had he . . .
Was that . . .
Had the Duke of Kendall just confessed that he loved her?
23
Isolde trailed her husband inside the house, her mind a turbulent sea.
He loved her?
He had, perhaps, loved her . . . for years?
The very idea was akin to a brush fire, incinerating every single assumption she had made about this man.
She had known he found her physically attractive.
But . . . love? Genuine love?
The sort of love that waits through a day, a journey, a sickness just to hear a beloved’s voice once more? Love that strokes a tired brow and listens patiently to fears and touches skin only the moonlight sees?Thatkind of love?
Tristan stood at the carved-stone basin in the cold larder, dipping a clean rag into water to rinse and towel off his body. His braces now dangled around his knees, causing his trousers to rest perilously low on his hips.
He did not look at her.
“Ye love me,” she said.
