From the start, he’d known that Piper’s lure was greater than any he’d ever known. Different from the rest. While her luscious body kindled a magnitude of passion in him beyond any he’d dared imagine, she stirred much more than that. A need to protect and defend, shelter and console. He wanted to laugh with her, fight with her.
Was this how it began? Unlike most of his brothers, Connor hadn’t been old enough to bear the trauma his eldest brother’s first wife had played upon the others. Cheating, conniving, she’d trained them all to be distrustful of women. Indomitable when it came to matters of the heart.
The four oldest had suffered most from the lesson she’d taught them. Only in the last few years had they, one by one, been shown the flip side of the coin. The trust and affection. Even Jamie—often considered a bounder and far happier in a hell than a ballroom—had fallen to Cupid’s arrow, if his most recent letters were any indication.
To the last, they’d fought it while Connor had frequently been there to witness its inception. To watch it bloom, confound, and grow. He’d never been one to eschew love, scoff at it, or run from it. No, he’d simply never thought he’d be so fortunate as to discover the same bond of companionship, intimacy, and contentment that they had.
Had he? Had he somehow happened upon a budding promise of ardor about to bloom into something more?
“What are you doing?”
Piper appeared at the door wrapped in a faded, quilted robe, rubbing her eyes tiredly. Her inky locks hung in loose tangles around her flushed face. His heart contracted at the sight.
Was this it then? Connor hesitated in pinning that all-encompassing word to what was blossoming between them. They hadn’t known each other long. Surely not long enough to ascribe a particular label and future upon it.
Ascribed timelines notwithstanding, his oldest brother, Francis, always said that, for him, it had happened in an instant. A heartbeat. A single, magical moment that he’d carried with him through long years before he reunited with his beloved Eve.
As Connor had cradled his first, too-brief meeting with Piper in his heart for months.
“Ye left me wi’ a fierce hunger, lass.”
The most honest truth.
She took in the nearly empty plate. “Did you leave some for me?”
“It’s all yers.”
Another truth.
She came to him and snuggled close, kissing his lips. “Was it good?”
“Delectable.” Setting the bottle aside, he wrapped his arms around her and brushed his lips across the top of her head.
The rest of his days.
It sounded bloody good at the moment. With Piper by his side, far away from Dinton Grange, from its threat. A new life to be shared.
Aye, for the rest of his days.
“Are ye entirely opposed to marriage?”
“What?” She didn’t tense in his arms so much as stilled.
It was hardly a subject he intended to introduce at this particular moment, but once spoken, he forged forward. “Ye said the other day that marriage to this merchant’s son was something ye would avoid at all costs.”
Piper considered him curiously. No doubt it seemed an odd subject to broach given what had occurred between them. “I did say that. Are you asking for my hand?”
Her frown offered no encouragement, yet he couldn’t help but ask, “Would ye like me to?”
“No,” she responded with insulting haste. A blush suffused her cheeks. “That is, there is no need for you to feel obligated to ask. I am an adult and quite aware of and responsible for my own actions. Nor do I need any disproportionate display of sympathy or coddling.”
Blast, if that was the way her thoughts leaned, he’d have more work than he’d expected in ensuring that she came around to his way of thinking.
And he intended to do precisely that.
In that moment, it struck him that marriage wasn’t solely something she should contemplate. It might be the solution to all of her problems.
“Och, lass. Have ye no’ considered that the easiest way to circumvent being forced into marriage is to wed of yer own free will?”
