Love.
His hands came up between them and gathered at her cloak’s fastening.
His welcome visage blurred. A fresh wave of tears again formed in her throat; these ones so very different than the ones Meghan had shed for months on end. Hers werehappytears.
He stopped.
A deep frown gathered at his forehead. “Tears.” He grunted. “I really didnottake you for a crier.”
The similar observation came not in French this time, but in his flawless King’s English.
Meghan buried something between a sob and a laugh in a fist. “P-perhaps we can agree that there are many things we do not know about each other.”
But in time, with Meghan now saved from an unwanted marriage, she and August could learn those intimate secrets about one another.
A radiant heat fanned through her, enveloping her heart.
She could not take her eyes from him: the chiseled line of his jaw and sharp cheekbones were now covered in the same light beard he had worn when she first met him.
Scarcely daring to believe any of this was real, Meghan sank back on her haunches.
August caught her by her tiered shoulder cape and dragged her gently back up. His fingers made effortless work of the engraved silver brooch at her throat.
She watched him, transfixed.
August swept the heavy, sodden cloak from her shoulders.
When she last saw him, she had believed that was the last she would ever see of him.
He had come for Meghan.
Impossible.
August awoke his own brief trance. “Oh, no, my dear Meghan.” He hurled her wedding cloak across the room. It hit the floor with a wetthump. “I assure you, I am very real.”
A quivering smile formed on her lips.
Yes, he was.
Thiswas.
With an easy grace, he crawled on both knees with more grace than most men walked on two feet to reach her.
He curled his right palm about her nape.
His possessive hold burned away the cold from her body; her lashes fluttered.
A knock at the door shattered the moment.
August’s slightly flared eyes stayed fixed on her face. Then, cursing roundly, he jumped up. He gave Meghan a last, heated look. Cursing, he pulled the threadbare hangings around the ancient bed so hard it was a wonder the thin material held.
Her heart skipped a beat.
Melting inside, she crawled on all fours to the thin gap left in the makeshift coverings and followed August’s measured march to the door. As he went, he unfastened his black multi-caped greatcoat.
Wide-eyed, Meghan drank him in as he disrobed. She read naughty gothic novels and immensely enjoyed them. None of the intimate things could prepare for August stripping before her.
Without missing a beat, he divested himself of the heavy fabric and tossed it towards Meghan’s cloak. His midnight wool hit atop her jewel-encrusted white and ivory silk and sent drops of water spattering.
