“Youmustbe reaching if you invoke him as a talisman against me. You told me already not to go back to him. Even if I did, I have no duke now. If I could land one, I know Grandfather could very well be lying. He mightnevergive me the information I seek. I would have to surrender a happy future for an empty past.”
He shut his eyes. She was determined and what she offered was so fucking tempting. A life he’d never believed he deserved, a future he hadn’t dared plan for.
But it was all a risk and he found he was…afraid. He, who had faced down villains so vile they would make an average man’s stomach turn. He, who had escaped a past of violence and poverty.
This slip of a woman and all she offeredterrifiedhim. Made him desperate to find a way to turn her aside so he wouldn’t run out of excuses to keep running from something so powerful as her love.
“And the War Department?” he asked. “What would you think of that life? It has already endangered you once.”
She dug into her pelisse pocket and handed out a note to him. It was folded and he recognized the handwriting across the face even before she said, “From Stalwood. He told me to give you this once you tried to use the department against me.”
He took it and slowly unfolded it. He read it, stared at her and repeated the reading, this time out loud. “‘John, you are hereby discharged from the service of the king, with great honor and a generous lifetime pension to follow. Be happy, John. Be free. All my love, Walter.’”
He read the last line over and over,feelinghis mentor’s love in the shaking handwriting. Seeing how Stalwood had taken away his last refuge from true happiness. Loving and hating him for him at once.
“He let you go,” Celia said, her surprise plain on her face. “I didn’t know.”
“He didn’t tell you?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No. He said this might help you decide. I-I would say I’m sorry to take this from you, but—”
“If I refused you, I know he would take me back. He’s setting me free to give me a future.” He folded the note and put it aside on the table. “He’s sending me to you. Even though he should know damn well it’s impossible.”
“You keep saying that,” she said, lifting a hand to cover his heart. Immediately the rhythm there doubled. “But it’s not true. The love is all that matters, so it isn’t impossible unless you chose to make it so.”
“What would you have me do, Celia?” he whispered, not to argue with her, but because he truly didn’t know. He’d never known himself, never been anyone but a lie, a ghost, a tool.
She smiled as if she understood. “Make a new start with me. As John Dane. Whoever he turns out to be. Make a life with me. Love me, and more than that, allow me to love you as you grow into the man you will be next. Please.”
The “please” was what broke him. She was offering him everything he’d always wanted and never dared hope for. She was offering him herself, and he knew that would be enough, more than enough, to sustain him for the rest of his life.
“I-I love you,” he whispered, daring to say the words out loud once again, but this time not as a curse. He expected them to still be bitter but they were infinitely sweet on his tongue.
Pure joy brightened her face even as she asked, “But do you want to be with me?”
“More than anything,” he admitted. “Though I fear I’ll let you down.”
“You couldn’t,” she whispered as she wrapped her arms around him and drew his lips to hers.
He sank into her, knowing that the war was over, the battle won…or lost, he supposed, since he had fought her so long and now he was giving in. But he reveled in the losing, for it meant such happiness, such joy. For the first time, he let himself look forward to the future and he was surprised by how wonderful it felt.
He drew back with a gasp as he was filled with happiness. She smiled.
“There’s John Dane,” she murmured as she slid her hands into his open shirt and glided it from his shoulders. “There’s the man you’ll become.”
“And what is that?” he whispered, not fighting as she tugged him over to the very rug he had pictured taking her on and drew him down onto it.
“Happy,” she said, kissing him. “Free. Mine.”
“All yours,” he agreed, laying her back and covering her body with his at last.
Her hands smoothed over his flesh, kneading there, taking and giving all at once. Her gown buttoned in the front and his fingers flew over the fastenings, loosening it even as he kissed and kissed her. She sighed as he parted the dress and let his mouth draw away from hers to kiss the column of her throat, then the arch of her collarbone, the smoothness of her chest.
He pulled at the dress, taking it down her arms as she arched her back for access. The chemise came with it, baring her from the waist up.
He stared at her, beautiful in the streaming sunshine from the window, the jumping light from the fire behind her. She was perfect and glorious and his, all his, for the rest of his life.
He bent his head and captured one tight nipple, licking and gently biting the flesh until she cried out and her hands tangled in his hair. He pushed her dress lower and followed the rolling fabric, kissing the flat plane of her stomach until he was forced to draw away and use both hands to pull her dress over her hips. Her drawers followed, then her stockings and at last she was naked on the rug, staring up at him not in fear, not in worry…
