He did not hesitate or waste time. His long legs ate up the distance between them until he stood before her, close enough to touch, the decadent scent of his soap wafting to her.
“Ara mine.” He opened his arms.
Every part of her sighedyes.
Her heart.
Her body.
Her mind.
She stepped into them, into him, wrapping him in her embrace as his strong arms banded around her, anchoring her to him as well. He felt so right, so wonderful, so strong and warm and sure. Her ear was pressed to his heart again.
Thrum, thrum, thrum.
How thankful she was for that heart. For the lifeblood it sent through him. For the fact that he was here, alive, holding her. And he was hers. Words bubbled up inside her. A confession. She could not stay them or keep them within any longer.
“I love you, Clay,” she said.
His arms tightened on her. “I love you, Ara mine.”
Ara closed her eyes, savoring the words she had not dared to imagine she would hear again. “I never stopped loving you. Even when I thought you had betrayed me, I ached for you. I longed for you. I was so hurt, so angry you had left me behind. I had to put you out of my mind, to keep you locked away, and I focused instead on Edward. Being his mother was all that I had.”
He tensed ever so slightly. “What of Burghly? You loved him, did you not? You wear your mourning brooch for him like a shield.”
“Yes, I loved Freddie.” She paused, hesitant to betray Freddie’s secret but knowing she needed to be honest with Clay.
“It is wrong of me to be jealous of a dead man,” he said lowly, his hand traveling slowly up and down her spine in a caress that was as comforting as it was maddening. “Part of me is grateful to him for being the husband and father you and Edward needed. Part of me hates him for the time I lost. For the love you gave him. It is weak and wrong of me, I know, but I wish to God I had been the man holding you and loving you these last eight years instead of him.”
“The love Freddie and I shared was different, Clay,” she said softly. “It was not like what you and I have.”
“How so?” he asked quietly.
She would trust Clay with her life. Indeed, she had already entrusted her life to him, and he had saved her. There was not a finer, more honorable man she knew.
She stepped back in his embrace, looking up to meet his dark gaze. “Freddie was not attracted to me. He was already in love with another when I met him. I was… After you left for the Continent and my parents discovered I was with child, my father told me I must either marry in haste or leave, bear my babe in secret, and give him away. I chose to find a husband.” She hesitated as old, painful emotions resurged inside her. “I went to my sister because I could not bear to marry Dorset. I would have, if I had needed to, but I was hoping to find someone more amenable. I found Freddie. He was in my sister’s set, and he was looking for a wife to assist with his political ambitions. He was kind and sweet, and when he proposed, I confessed everything to him.”
Clay made a low sound in his throat. “Damn it, Ara, it kills me that you had to endure that rot. I never should have left. I should have bloody well known better. I should have known you better than to think you capable of such duplicity.”
“You had been attacked, and you were hurting and confused.” She raised a hand to his cheek, loving the bristle of his whiskers against her open palm. “I cannot fault you for reacting as you did. I am sharing this with you to explain, Clay, not to bring judgment. Freddie and I enjoyed a friendship rather than a true marriage. He confided in me that he was in love with Sir Percy Dorwood. Freddie was a politician, and he was just rising to prominence. He could not afford for anyone to discover the true nature of his friendship with Sir Percy, or he faced not only social and political ruin but the potential for so much more ill to befall him. So, you see, he needed me as much as I needed him.”
“Your marriage—it is between you and Burghly,” Clay rasped, his jaw tensing. “You do not need to explain a bloody thing to me, Ara. I failed you. You needed me, and I believed the worst of you.”
“You did not fail me, Clay.” Her thumb traced the proud, high slash of his cheekbone. Her gaze locked on his. “We were both the victims of circumstance, misled by others and left broken and wounded. I am telling you this because I want there to be no secrets between us. I loved Freddie as a friend, as a man who was always respectful and caring and considerate, who gave me and my son everything he could. But he was not you. There is only one man for me. There has only ever been one man for me, and that man is Clayton Ludlow. And he’s standing before me now, though I still feel as if I am dreaming him and he may not be real.”
He pressed a worshipful kiss to her palm. “He is real, and he is all too fallible, and he is so damn sorry for the last eight years.”
She kept her gaze intent upon his. “Those years made us who we are now. I regret nothing if it means having you here with me. If it means I can love you for the rest of my life. I would bear every moment we spent apart all over just to have you here in my arms now.”
“My God, Ara. I do not want to spend another breath without you as my wife.” He paused. “I will for your sake, of course, but if I had my way, I would marry you today. Here and now. As it is, I would never wish to be the cause of scandal. In two months, you will have been in mourning for long enough. It is still a shortened period, but do you think you might—”
“Yes!” She launched herself back into his arms, locking her arms around his neck.
“You do not even know what you are agreeing to, Duchess.”
For the first time, her title felt wrong. “Do not call me that, for it is not who I am. I am Ara, your Ara, just as I have always been, and I cannot imagine an honor any greater than becoming your wife. If that is what you were asking, of course. I will marry you tomorrow. Two days from now. Whenever you can acquire a license. I am yours, Clay. I do not want to wait any longer than absolutely necessary. Freddie would understand, and I do not owe anything to anyone other than you and our son.”
“Ah, Ara mine.” Closing his eyes for a moment, he dipped his head and pressed his forehead to hers. “All I have wanted, for as long as I can recall, is to have you by my side, in my bed, to touch you and kiss you, to hold you and keep you safe, to be yours in every way. Of course that is what I was asking, in my brash and unsophisticated way. I fear I will never be a duke. I will never be noble. That is not who I am, but I am the man who loves you. I am the man who would die for you.”
