“You’re only saying this because of that dreadful article and the scandal,” she said, tearing her hands from his and moving away. “I’ll not have your pity, Rhys. It is worse than your disdain.”
How wrong she was. He would show her. Prove it to her.
Rhys followed, reaching for her again, this time taking her waist in his hands and pulling her against him. “I’m not saying it because I pity you or because of that bloody gossip rag. I’m saying it because I love you, Miranda Lenox. I love your stubborn determination to succeed, your dauntless fearlessness, your passion, and your talent. I love your courage and your compassion, your laughter and your smile. I love your hair and your nose and your emerald eyes, and I love your sinful mouth and your delicious breasts and your perfectly formed bottom and your?—”
“Madam?”
The shrill voice of Miranda’s maid of all work intruded quite rudely on Rhys’s declaration. He turned to the unsmiling woman with a frown of his own.
“That will be all,” he said with a grin. “If your mistress needs you, she will ring the bellpull.”
Miranda nodded, her eyes never leaving his. “Yes, White. Please do go. All is well.”
The older woman bobbed in a curtsy, her expression made of stone, and fled in a flap of dun skirts.
“Do you mean it?” Miranda asked when the servant had once more disappeared.
He cupped her cheek. “Well, I wasn’t nearly finished when I was interrupted. There was more.”
“There was?”
“Yes, but I’ve forgotten it,” he admitted. “I feel reasonably certain it had something to do with your responsive nipples.”
“Rhys,” she scolded, smiling through the chastisement. “You are positively scandalous.”
“And so are you. We are well matched, you and I. So you see, that is why we should wed.” He caressed the elegant sweep of her cheekbone with his thumb. “That and the fact that I love you. Have I mentioned it?”
Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “You love me? How? Do you mean it?”
“Of course I mean it. I’m sorry I was too bloody stupid to realize it until it was too late and I caused you to be the subject of gossip yet again.” Guilt lodged in his throat, making his voice go thick. “I would do anything to undo the damage I’ve caused.”
She shook her head. “The damage is every bit as much my fault as yours. I knew the risks and decided the reward was worth it.”
“Why?” he asked softly, needing to know.
Needing to hear her say the words. Praying he wasn’t wrong and that she loved him, not anyone else.
“Because I love you,” she said.
“Not Warting?” he asked.
“Rhys, you know that isn’t his name.”
“Yes,” he countered determinedly. “It is and forever shall be. I don’t like him.”
“He has been a good friend to me, helping me to obtain the divorce from Ammondale through great harm to his own reputation. All the world believes him an adulterer when he’s not. The two of us were never lovers.”
“And so he can continue to be a good friend,” he growled. “From another bloody continent. Now, say it again, if you please.”
She smiled. “I love you.”
“And?”
“And I’ll marry you.”
“Thank God.” He kissed her then, tasting the salt of her tears and the sweetness that was simply Miranda before breaking away again to gaze down at her. “I am going to make this right, my love. I swear it to you.”
“We will be together,” she said softly. “Nothing else matters.”
