“Cheeky wife,” he quipped. “Are you implying you don’t want to marry me?”
She did want to marry him. More than anything. How could she explain these worries?
He sobered when she hesitated. “Daisy, do you want to be my wife?”
“Yes,” she said. That was the easiest question to answer. “But I’m afraid we won’t be allowed.”
His eyes hardened. “You let me worry about that. I beat death. Cliffton and his wretched mother will be nothing.”
“And Mrs. Dove-Lyon?” Daisy asked.
“I’ll handle her, too. You don’t have to worry about anything. I’m not about to give you up. You’re mine. They’ll have to kill me to take you from me,” he said, his words sharp as steel. “What is living worth if I can’t have the woman I love?”
Daisy’s whole body filled with light at his words. “Sam, I... I love you.”
He smiled. “Then it’s settled. We’ll marry, we’ll defeat our enemies, and we’ll live happily ever after.”
“It’s that simple?”
“No. It will be a fight. But you’re worth fighting for.”
And that was when Daisy truly knew she loved him. He spoke all the words her heart yearned to hear. He knew how to love her the way she’d always needed to be loved.
He kissed her lightly, and then there was a knock on the door.
“My lord?” Petrov said from the other side.
Daisy buried her face in his chest.
“I hope you have breeches for me,” Sam said.
Daisy wanted the floor to open and swallow her.
“The trunk in your dressing room has a pair,” Petrov replied.
Sam kissed her forehead. “Why don’t you let him in, and I’ll change.”
“He can’t see me in here!” Daisy whispered.
“He can. He is trustworthy and discreet.”
Daisy frowned. “How many women have been in your room?”
“None, and this room hasn’t seen a woman since my mother lived here, barring the occasional maid. Now this room will have a new countess. You.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Sam had apeculiar sensation in his head. A weightlessness, like he’d taken too much laudanum, or like that time he’d tried opium. An interesting experience, but not one he cared to repeat after he saw the outcome of those who’d become slaves to it. He didn’t need to chase bliss. His life was already happy as it was. Now, for the first time since he’d woken up in that bloody bed, he had hope.
Daisy’s scent hung around him like the heavy floral notes of spring, and he was drunk on her. He knew what he wanted, and he’d do anything to keep her. He didn’t care what it took. He wasn’t going to lose this. He refused.
Petrov appeared in the doorway as Sam tugged on fresh breeches.
“My lord?”
“Is Miss Blakewood still out there, or did she run away?”
“She ran away.”
