A dark, suffocating sadness blanketed the room, pressing heavily on his heart.
My fault, Lucien said.
Ambrose could hear him better now. As if all the voices merged into a solitary whisper that finally made sense.
“I don’t believe he meant for anyone to get hurt,” Eve said.
“The true curse on my family is hearing spirits?”
Eve toyed with the edge of his shirt. “I never thought of myself as cursed. Just that I had the same gift as my grandmama.”
“And the men who came before me.” If they’d had the same knowledge of spirits as Eve, would there have been any madness at all? Would his grandfather have lived to a merry old age, either ignoring the voices or communicating with them as Eve did?
He wasn’t going mad. Hecouldhave a wife, children, and all the things he’d secretly dreamed of. Ambrose tightened his hold on the woman in his arms. He could have Eve, if she wanted him.
Relief, disbelief, gratitude, joy, and anger all tangled up in his heart. Too many emotions to name and yet, none of them as strong as his feelings for Eve. She’d shown him a different path for his life. Given him his first moments of happiness in years. He’d wanted her since she appeared on his doorstep. Now, nothing held him back.
Ambrose tipped her chin up and pressed his lips to hers.
Eve melted into his embrace, pressing her soft breasts against his chest, and met his kiss, humming with pleasure.
Their first kiss had been almost chaste. With this kiss, Ambrose ached for more. He swept his tongue along the seam of her lips. When she gasped in surprise, he deepened the kiss. Their tongues brushed together as he explored her sweet mouth. Heat rushed through his body, burning away his fears. He broke the kiss and trailed his lips down her neck, savoring the scent and taste of her skin.
“I need you, Eve. Now. Forever,” he whispered against her skin.
Eve speared her fingers through his hair and lifted his head up to meet her gaze. “Ambrose?”
He could see her uncertainty, her hope. “No one could ever understand me like you, Eve. I think perhaps no one could know you as I do. You’ve run from a marriage that you don’t want. Would you ever want marriage at all? With me?”
She searched his eyes, then whispered, “Yes.”
“Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife, Eve Langley? I swear you’ll never want for anything.”
Her eyes filled with tears, and she hugged him tightly. “Yes! Yes, Ambrose. I will be your wife.”
Ambrose kissed her again, savoring this moment. All he’d secretly yearned for was his.
The storm has stopped, Lucien said.
Chapter Seven
“I’ll procure aspecial license,” Ambrose said. They’d moved to the chair by the fire after Lucien disappeared. Eve sat across his lap, snuggled in his warm embrace. “I want you to be my wife right away.”
He nuzzled her temple, the words soft in her ear.
He must be thinking of her father and the marriage contract to the viscount. Her father would be terribly angry with her, but he’d ignored her wishes. It had been wrong to run away, she knew that. Though if she hadn’t, she wouldn’t be with Ambrose now.
“I’m yours,” she said and pressed her lips to his.
Their kiss was long and languid. Drugging and delicious. She skimmed her hand down the side of his neck and under the edge of his shirt. Ambrose rarely wore a cravat and that open patch of skin from his throat to his waist called to her. Freely touching him like this was a wonder. The feel of his skin, different and rougher than her own, excited something deep within. She felt a tightness between her thighs and her stomach fluttered with heat.
Ambrose trailed his mouth down her neck.
She pressed her thighs together as the feeling between them intensified.
His hand went to her ankle and his fingers slid beneath the hem of her night rail. “May I touch you, darling?”
“Yes. Please, Ambrose.” She needed the feel of his hands on her body. If the marriage bed was anything like this tender intimacy, she might never leave it.
