“Rosalinde,” he said, and took a long breath.
She waited as he struggled for words. It was like she was an arrow drawn back on a quiver and all that existed was exquisite tension as she waited for him to speak. Waited for him to tell her that he loved her. Those had to be the words that were so difficult for his lips to form. And once she heard them, everything would be right again.
Only he pressed his lips together at last, and then he said, “You’ll marry me.”
She blinked. The sentence, stated as fact, not as a question, both moved her and cut her to the core. There was no declaration of love to go along with his statement. No romantic swell of passion to sweep her away.
Even Martin hadaskedfor her hand, not told her it belonged to him.
“Is that a proposal?” she said, unable to keep the hint of disappointment from her voice.
He must have heard it, for he frowned. “Perhaps not artfully done, but yes. Let me try again. Please, marry me.”
She drew her hands from his and got up. She had to put space between them in order to think clearly. Once she had, the true weight of what was happening settled on her shoulders. Marriage to this man who wanted her, yes. Cared for her, she believed. But loved her?
That still seemed in bitter question.
“Gray,” she whispered.
He got to his feet and took a step toward her. “You don’t know your future, Rosalinde. Stenfax can provide protection to a point, but if your grandfather wants you back in his house, we may not be able to stop him if you are two unmarried misses. But if you are my wife, you’ll be safe. And I will leverage every bit of influence I have to make sure Celia is safe, too.”
“Safe,” she said. The word was what she needed right now, but oh, how bitter it tasted.
“In fact, Celia might be more than safe thanks to this. Stenfax and I believe if we tell tale of how you and I fell unexpectedly in love—”
She jolted. There was the word she had been looking for, but he said it in the context of a tale to tell to others. Not the truth, but a story meant to save them all from ruin.
He was still talking. “—your grandfather refused the marriage because he wanted you to marry into a different influential family…”
“It would explain away your actions today in the parlor,” she said, “I understand you perfectly.”
And she did. It was a good plan. Thetonliked a good love story as much as it did a scandal. An engaged couple who stepped aside in their arranged marriage in order to clear the way for true love was something that would resonate even with the most jaded of lords. They might turn their noses up and laugh, but they would not tar Celia and Stenfax with a dirty brush.
“Rosalinde, I have wanted you from the moment I laid eyes on you,” Gray said. “And I would be a good husband and partner to you. If you allow me.”
She shut her eyes. Looking at him was physically painful in that moment. He offered her everything and nothing she wanted, all at once.
“Once Celia told me that I only did what I desired,” she said. “That I only followed my heart and left the consequences to others.”
She looked at him. He was frowning, as if he disagreed. But she knew better than he did.
“But if I do this, I’ll be helping her. It will be my turn to do what is right and clear the way for her happiness.” Rosalinde nodded. “How could I refuse? Especially since I think you and Idosuit in a great many ways.”
His frown deepened at that statement, though she had no idea of why. She hadn’t troubled him with her heart. She hadn’t required more than he would give. She was stepping in line to what he claimed to want from her. He should smile.
So she did, even though there was a piece of her that wanted so much more. But she would have him, hers forever. And perhaps at some point, he might come to care more. Deeper. It happened.
“Are you saying yes?” he asked.
She moved toward him, her heart pounding as she reached for him. She leaned up and pressed her lips to his. Immediately he grabbed for her, cupping her closer to him, his tongue waging war with her as he woke her body just as he always did.
She drew away, though it was physically painful. “Yes,” she whispered. “I’ll marry you.”
He let out a breath like he’d been holding it, and smiled. “Excellent. We’ll tell your sister the news and the plan, and we’ll announce it tonight. Then there is much to arrange. I’ll get a special license and we’ll take over Stenfax and Celia’s date.”
“Two days?” Rosalinde gasped in shock.
He nodded. “Then everyone will remember our whirlwind, not the other.”
