“Likewise,” he whispered, his eyes searching hers with a desperate, frantic intensity. “If you wanted to leave, if you wanted your business and your independence, then you should be celebrating.”
He leaned in even closer, his forehead almost touching hers. “Was it because you wanted to stay? Was it because you felt the same thing I did when I watched you walk toward that carriage?”
Lucy looked at his lips, then back to his eyes, her resolve crumbling like dry parchment. The scent of him was making it impossible to think, impossible to be the logical woman she had always been.
“I am upset because I didn’t want to be free,” she finally cried out, the words bursting from her like a confession under torture. “Is that what you want to hear? I was crying because you let me go as if I were nothing more than a ghost passing through your halls. I was crying because I had finally found a place where I felt I belonged, and I was confused and trying to figure out what I was feeling, but you cut me loose.”
The dam finally broke, and the words Lucy had been suffocating for days came rushing out in a jagged, breathless torrent.
“I was crying because I realized far too late that I love you, you stubborn, impossible man,” she screamed at his chest, her hands coming up to bunch the fabric of his lapels. “I love you, and I love Brook and Daniel and Anthony. I was terrified because for my entire life, I’ve seen marriage as a cage. I’ve seen women disappear into their husbands’ shadows until there was nothingleft of them but a title. Even though I have seen love blossom in many marriages, there were just too many loveless, broken ones. I didn’t want to be trapped! I didn’t want to be a wife if it meant I couldn’t be Lucy Crampton anymore!”
She looked up at him, her face wet with tears, her voice cracking. “But you were also right. Deep down, I did not think that I deserved love. After what I did to my cousin, forcing her hand into a marriage, I didn’t think I should be happy. So, I started seeing marriage as something that was not for people like me, and it consumed me. That is why I chose this path. If I couldn’t bring myself to love, then maybe I can lead others to it.”
“But the irony is that I was more myself with you than I have ever been in my life,” Lucy continued. “In your study, in those gardens, even when we were arguing about the boys’ lessons. I wasn’t performing. I wasn’t a matchmaker. I was just me, and you all saw me.”
Rowan’s grip on her loosened, his hand sliding down to cup the side of her face, his thumb catching a falling tear. His eyes, which had been so fierce just moments before, were now filled with a shimmering, disbelieving light.
“You love me?” he whispered.
“I love you so much it feels like I’ve been hollowed out since I left,” Lucy sobbed, finally leaning her weight into him, her forehead resting against his chin. The scent of him was overwhelming now, a physical relief that made her knees weak. “I didn’t want the freedom you gave me, Rowan. I wanted thechoice to stay. I wanted you to tell me that I was more than a contract. I wanted you to tell me that you needed me as much as I needed you. But I was so stubborn, too. My mouth just refused to say the words my heart was screaming.”
She felt his arms wrap around her then, crushing her against him with a desperation that mirrored her own. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his breath hot and ragged against her skin.
Rowan let out a shuddering breath as he pulled her away gently, tilting her head to meet his eyes.
“I love you, Lucy,” he confessed. “I cannot tell you when exactly it happened, or how it did, but just know that I have never felt this way about anyone before. Noone. I just didn’t have the courage to believe a woman like you, so fierce, so independent, could ever truly want a man like me.”
He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his hands framing her face with a reverence that made her heart swell.
“That night... when I asked why you were willing to go through with the wedding…” he whispered. “When I asked you what you truly felt, and why you looked so sad, I wasn’t looking for a reason to let you go. I was starving for a reason to keep you. I was waiting, praying, for you to show me even a glimmer of what was in your heart. I wanted you to tell me that it wasn’t just about the boys or the deal. I wanted you to say it was for us.”
His gaze dropped to her lips, and Lucy saw the raw, naked longing he had been hiding behind his ducal mask.
“I wanted to kiss you so badly that night that it felt like I was losing my mind...” he admitted, his thumb tracing the curve of her lower lip. “And God help me, I want to kiss you even more now.”
“Then stop talking, Rowan,” Lucy whispered, her voice a ragged plea against his thumb. “Because I want that too. More than anything.”
The last of their restraint shattered. He groaned low in his throat and claimed her mouth with a ferocity that stole the very air from the room.
His lips were hot and demanding, moving against hers with an intensity that made Lucy’s head spin. She met his passion with her own, her fingers digging into his shoulders, anchoring herself to him as the world tilted.
Rowan’s hands were everywhere, a restless, worshipful map of her existence. He cupped her jaw, his palms rough and warm, before his hands slid down to her throat, feeling the frantic pulse jumping beneath her skin. One hand moved to the small of her back, splaying wide and pulling her so flush against him that she could feel the thundering rhythm of his heart through his waistcoat.
Lucy let out a soft, broken whimper as he tilted her head back, his kisses trailing a path of fire from her lips to the sensitivecurve of her ear then down the long line of her neck. Every touch sent a jolt of electricity through her, a tingle that started at his fingertips and radiated deep into her marrow.
He didn’t stop. His hands moved with a desperate, tactile need, tracing the line of her ribs, his touch burning through the muslin of her dress. He held her as if she were a precious thing he had nearly broken, yet his touch was possessive, marking her as his in every way that mattered. When he returned to her lips, the kiss deepened, tongues tangling in a dance of pure, raw honesty.
Lucy felt a heat rising in places she had never known existed. She felt small in his arms but powerful in the way he trembled against her. She buried her face in the crook of his neck for a moment, breathing in the scent of rain and him, feeling the heavy, solid weight of his arms locking her into a world where she was finally, completely safe.
He pulled back just a fraction, his forehead resting against hers, both of them gasping for air. His eyes were dark, swirling with an intensity that promised she would never have to doubt his want for her again.
“You are mine,” he rasped, his hands tangled in her hair, pulling her close enough to feel the vibration of his voice. “From this second until my heart stops beating, Lucy Crampton. Don’t you ever try to be free of me again.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she breathed, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw.
Rowan looked her in the eye, his hands still framing her face as if she were the most fragile and precious thing he had ever held. “Lucy Crampton,” he whispered. “I don’t want you to be Lucy Crampton anymore. I have done everything in the wrong order. I have been a fool, a coward, and a prideful man, but if you will have me—not for a contract, not for a title, but for me... Will you marry me? Will you stay at Langridge and let me spend the rest of my life trying to deserve you?”
A radiant, tearful smile broke across Lucy’s face. She would be a fool to pretend as though she had to think about it.
