She crossed her arms. “The same way you explained away your decision to break my heart instead of telling me the truth?”
He held out a hand. “Picture the night of our betrothal ball. Can you imagine if I had strolled up to you and said, ‘Good evening, Rosalie. Don’t worry about all that rot I told you in the conservatory two years ago. I was lying. I’ve really loved you thiswhole time?’” He shook his head. “You would have tossed a glass of champagne in my face.”
“I most certainly would not have done!” She fixed him with a poisonous glower. “I would have smashed you over the head with a candelabra.”
He couldn’t help it. He grinned.
“That’s my girl,” he said, his voice emerging a bit gruff. “Clever thing that you are, I knew you would figure out the truth yourself, and that, while you would immediately distrust anything that came out of my mouth, you are too logical and fair-minded to deny the evidence that is plainly before you, even when it contradicted your own hypothesis.”
She elbowed him in the side. “Quit trying to sway me with compliments.”
He quirked a brow. “Is it working?”
She glowered at him. “You know full well it is. And what do you mean, you’ve loved me this whole time?” She was doing her best to look angry, but Lucian didn’t miss the tremble of her lip or the fact that she was blinking rapidly. “Is that your notion of a declaration? I would have thought such a legendary Lothario—and Lord Valentine, on Valentine’s Day!—could do better.”
He smiled at her. “Right you are, my darling Rosalie. As usual.” Abruptly, he wrapped her up in his arms, then rolled her back onto the mattress, pinning her beneath him.
He kissed her with every ounce of love that he’d kept bottled up inside of him these past two years.
When he lifted his head, they were both breathing hard.
“I love you.” His voice broke as he added, “Somuch. I know I’ve made a mess of things. But I intend to spend the next fifty-some-odd years making it up to you.”
“You’d bloody well better,” she replied, the anger in her voice offset by the great sniff she gave.
Tenderly, he brushed an errant curl back from her forehead. “Shall I start now?” he asked, flexing his hips in suggestion of a possible way he might demonstrate his ardor.
“No!” she snapped. “Or… yes, but not until I’ve had the chance…”
Lucian was all curiosity. “The chance?” he prompted.
She had flushed red. He loved that about her, the way she always blushed. Her inability to conceal her emotions from him.
She looked down and said in a rush, “The chance to tell you.”
He certainly liked the sound of that. “The chance to tell me what, my darling?”
He could tell she had to force herself to look him in the eye. “That I love you, too.”
Warmth washed over him, in spite of the chill of the room. He felt like he had drawn his first full breath in two years.
Rosalie had gone fuzzy beneath him. “Lucian?” she said, squinting up at him. “Are you… crying?”
“I suppose I am,” he admitted, swiping at his eyes. “I just… I thought… I was so afraid that you could never…” He trailed off, unable to explain.
Although judging by the knowing gleam in her eyes, she understood.
“As you should have been.” Her tart tone was offset by the fingers she stroked through the hair at the nape of his neck. “You took a terrible risk, you know. What if we hadn’t found our way back to one another? We could have spent our entire lives apart!”
“That would have been a tragedy.” He framed her face. “What a pale shadow of a life I would have stumbled through without you.”
“There now. That’s much better.” She must be softening toward him, because she had looped her arms around his neck.“More the sort of thing a woman expects to hear from Lord Valentine on Valentine’s Day.”
“Alas, I’m no poet. But I can promise you this. I will show you, not with words, but with deeds, the love and esteem in which I hold you, every day for the rest of our lives.” He paused, studying her beautiful face. “Do you think you can ever forgive me?” he asked, his voice deep. “Reallyforgive me, I mean?”
She blew at the stubborn wisp of hair that kept falling across her forehead. “I already have, you blasted man. You’re too charming by half.” Her eyes softened. “And, considering what my father said, I suppose… I can understand.”
Oh, God. He’d been so afraid he would never hear those words, so afraid they would never reach this point. He felt as if his heart might burst. Was this what perfect, incandescent happiness felt like? He wouldn’t know, as he’d never felt it before, but he rather thought it was.
