“I know,” he admitted, daring to move closer. “I was a coward and a fool.”
Her faint smile gave him hope. “Better to ask forgiveness than permission,” she said, as though repeating a memorized verse. She turned and looked up at him, her brow puckering with the slightest frown. “But was it really better?”
He dropped to his knees beside her. “No. It was not, my love, and it has taught me that no matter how much I fear we might disagree or fight, it is much better to include you in everything rather than risk losing you.” He took her hand, his heart soaring when she didn’t pull it away this time. “I cannot live without you, Sophie. Please try to love me again.”
A single tear escaped and rolled down her cheek as she gave him another sad smile. “That is the problem, you see. Even though I wanted to hate you for making me look the fool, I couldn’t. I have loved you since I was ten and five, and youwere twenty. Even then, I tried to hate you when you were so infuriating, but I couldn’t.” She frowned and shook her head again. “You are like an affliction I can never be rid of—one that has no cure.”
Considering all the things she could have called him, he humbly accepted the title ofaffliction. At least they were talking, and she still held his hand. She could call him anything she liked.
“Might we begin again?” he asked gently. “I will do better this time. I swear it.”
She didn’t answer, and the deepening of her frown worried him.
“Sophie?”
“I know I am stubborn and have a temper, but am I truly so horrid that you felt forced to hide things from me?” She shifted on the lounge and leaned toward him. “Is it because I kneed you in your… Is it because I attacked you that day?”
He cupped her cheek in his hand and forced himself to speak the truth. “I was cowardly, my love. I took the easy way out because I truly did not think it would matter. I needed to talk to Burns about helping us and thought I could kill two birds with one stone—and didn’t want to take the time to convince you that I needed to do it.” He grazed his thumb along the curve of her bottom lip, still not brave enough to try to kiss her. “I failed you, and I failed your mother. I am so sorry for being such a fool.”
“If Maman’s death taught me anything, it is that we sometimes make mistakes when we think we are doing what is best for those we love.” She took in a pitiful, hitching breath. “I miss her so much, Nash.” She touched his face as her tears overflowed. “And I missed you too.”
A groan escaped him as he pulled her into his arms, rocking as he cradled her to his chest. “My darling,” he whispered, hating himself for causing her so much pain and now finding himselfpowerless to ease her sorrow. “I love you, my precious swan, and I am here now.”
She clung to him, weeping for the longest while. He hated her suffering but loved her being in his arms. Then she made a noise he couldn’t define. It wasn’t exactly a stifled sob, but more like an uncomfortable exasperation.
“My love?” He gently lifted her face to his.
“The haft of your sword is rather unbearable, my lord,” she said, arching to one side while holding her ribs.
“Gads, forgive me!” He set her aside and removed the offending weapon. “Did it bruise you?”
She graced him with the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. “I am sure it did not.” She cast a meaningful look at the door. “But perhaps we might check. After you ensure the latch is locked, of course.” She sniffed and swiped at her tears. “And I would not be averse to your holding me some more once we are more comfortable—if you don’t mind.”
If he didn’t mind? Did she think him a complete cod’s head? He hurried to secure their privacy, then returned to where she sat on the floor, tilting her head, watching him with a faint smile. Without hesitation, he scooped her up, lowered them both to the lounge, and settled her on his lap. “Hopefully, your stays took the brunt of the sword’s abuse,” he said as he positioned her so he could undo the multitude of tiny buttons running down the back of her gown.
“I am not wearing any stays. In fact, I am not even wearing my chemise or petticoats, since I was in a hurry to dress and get yourmeetingover with.” She cast a sheepish glance at him over her bare shoulder. “Please do not think me vulgar or lowly. I simply did not care at the time and was not of the mindset to force myself to feel otherwise.” She held up both hands and gave a derisive laugh. “Marie convinced me to at least wear my elbow-length gloves.”
Her confession about her state of undress hardened him to the point of nearly spilling himself. He struggled for control as he tugged off her gloves and tossed them aside. “You know how I feel about gloves, my lady.”
She gave him a lopsided smile that turned slightly wicked. “Yes, I know. How do you think Marie convinced me to wear them?”
He ached to taste her, hold her while breathing her in and possessing her completely. But he was so afraid of stepping wrong and fouling the moment. “May I kiss you now, my love?”
“No.” A warm sultriness had replaced her cold disdain, but her smile disappeared, making his heart plummet.
“No?” He swallowed hard.
She twisted to face him and plucked at his cravat, untying the neckcloth with slow, deliberate tugs. “You may not kiss me until we rid ourselves of these clothes.” She arched a brow. “I do not wish to snag my gown’s fine needlework on your medals, my lord.”
“A prudent decision.” He slid her gown down to her waist and leaned forward to bury his face in the warm, silky curve where her neck met her shoulder. He breathed in the deliciousness of her jasmine scent and groaned. “Pray, let us make haste, then.”
She rose and let her gown fall away into a froth of snowy silk around her ankles. Without taking her gaze from his, she untied the shimmering gold ribbons tied just above her knees.
Nash reached to help remove her stockings, but she backed up a step and shook her head.
“No, dear husband. You have fallen sorely behind in divesting yourself of your clothing.” She stood before him in all her naked glory, idly plucking the hairpins out of her curls and allowing the coppery waves to tumble free. As she ran her fingersthrough her hair and fluffed her tresses, she frowned. “Have you changed your mind? You appear to be frozen in place.”
“You have bewitched me, my love.” He yanked off his coat and threw it aside, then kicked off his boots, stripped off his waistcoat, and sent his shirt sailing through the air. “You outshine Botticelli’s Venus,” he whispered as he shed his pantaloons. “You are my goddess.”
