Emma shook her head, tears misting her eyes. “I do not hold the bet against you. It is not unusual for gentlemen to behave in such ways, and you could not have known the trouble you were about to cause.”
“I like trouble.” Lord Linley winked, a roguish gleam in his eyes. “Most especially when it leads me to you.”
“Please, be serious,” Emma said, her forehead creasing with her mounting frustration. Heavens, he was making this hard. She straightened her spine and said, “I am giving you the option to beg off. I’m trying to set you free.”
“I have no wish to be free.” He narrowed his gaze, then added, “I am quite serious, Emma. I want to marry you.”
Her heart somersaulted at his words. “Why?” She arched a questioning brow, desperately wishing to understand. Completely afraid of his reasons. What if nothing more than honor drove his determination?
“I will admit that I acted on impulse when I announced our pending nuptials, but I did so because I care for you. The smartest thing I ever did was kiss you. Hell, I should have done it years ago.” He brought her hands to his lips and pressed a kiss against them.
“You did not know me years ago,” Emma argued.
“That is where you are wrong.” He cupped her cheek in his palm, sending a wave of longing through her. “After our introduction, I spent countless nights watching you from across crowded rooms. More than once, I wanted to approach you, but you always looked so unwelcoming.”
“I wish you could see it, Emma.” He swallowed hard, his throat working with the force of it. “You captivated me from the start, and I daresay, I am more than half in love with you now.”
She could not hold back the tide of elation that rose in her. Emma stared into his grey eyes and saw the tenderness reflecting back at her. Had he said, love? Her heart fluttered at the thought.
Could he genuinely love her? Part of her was afraid to latch onto the idea, for how could he love her so soon? But then, she realized she was in love with him. The idea of setting him free gutted her, and the only reason she’d tried was because she cared more about his happiness than her own.
Still, it seemed so soon. So sudden. Emma decided she could not trust the emotion she felt, nor could she trust his declaration. But she also believed that in time they would share a deep and enduring love.
Yes, they could be happy—they would be happy. She smiled at him, her hands clutching his.
Lord Linley dropped to one knee, clasping her hands in his. He stared up at her and said, “Lady Emma Finch, you captivate me. I want you at my side for the rest of my days. I want to be the one who makes you laugh and the one whose arms you run to. I want your smiles and your tears. More than anything, I want to love you and be loved by you.”
Tears welled in Emma’s eyes, and she reached up to dab them away with her glove-covered fingers. Her throat tightened as she fought the rising tears.
This was real. It truly was happening.
Lord Linley was proposing to her. Laying his heart bare. He spoke of love and happily ever after and marriage. He wanted her.
She stared at him dumbfounded and unable to do more than nod her answer as the first rogue tear slipped down her cheek.
He rubbed small circles over her hands with his thumbs as he continued, “Lady Emma Finch, will you do me the vast honor of becoming my wife?”
She tugged on his hand, urging him to stand as she nodded like a fool. “Yes. Yes, I will.” Emma forced the words past the tightness in her throat. “I will marry you.”
Lord Linley pulled her into his arms and smoothed his hand over the back of her hair. “You have made me exceedingly happy.” He tipped her chin up to stare into her eyes. “And you have my word that I will endeavor to do the same for you. The rest of my days,” he grinned, “and nights will be dedicated to your happiness.”
The sincerity and tenderness in his gaze stole her breath. Nothing made sense, and somehow it did not need to. This wonderful man wanted her, and she wanted him.
Nothing else mattered save for the two of them at this moment. Emma said, “I shall do the same. You have my word, as well.”
Then all reason fled Emma’s mind as she pressed her lips to his, hungry and desperate to lose herself in his embrace.
This was forever.
Chapter 7
Archer slid into the pew beside Emma as parishioners filled the church. He’d not seen her these past two days and could not stay away for another minute. He leaned toward her and said, “I miss you.”
A light blush crept across her cheeks as a smile tilted her full lips. “I’ve missed you as well.” She glanced at their surroundings, before turning her attention back to him. “This is not the done thing. You should sit with your family.”
Mischief lit his eyes as he said, “I find I do not care for the done thing. I will remain right here, at your side.”
She shook her head but offered no further protest. And so it went for the following two Sundays, Archer sat beside her, holding her hand as the parson read the banns. Each time they were read, Archer’s pulse speed with anticipation.
