“What?” His mouth curved into the easy grin that she was beginning to adore.
She stretched beneath him, enjoying the weight of his body on hers, the warmth of him still inside her. “Cassandra had a poetry reading where the poet when on and on about the ‘passion flower of ecstasy.’ I thought he had to be teasing.” She ran a hand over his buttock—so nice and solid. A marvel, really. “I believe we found it.”
A proud gladness lit the gray in his eyes. “We shall always find it,” he promised.
“We can do this again and again?” she said with wonder. “Exactly this way?”
“Oh, no,” he answered. “Practice will make us better and better at it.”
Deep within, she felt him begin to fill and swell. An answering tension built inside of her.
“Better?” she asked.
“Absolutely.”
Leonie frowned. “Is it like this for everyone?”
“Only poets and lovers.” He began moving and all questions evaporated from Leonie’s mind.
Her body was already far too sensitive and his slightest touch seemed amplified. This time, her release was quick and hard and it was her voice that shouted his name.
Spent, neither of them could move. Roman held her in his arms, a finger playing with one of her curls. She could ask for no safer haven. She was content.
“I love you.”
At first, she wasn’t certain he’d spoken or if she had imagined the words. The fire in the hearth was dying and so it was harder to see his expression in the shadows.
“I believe I felt love for you the moment we met at the Colonial Ball,” he continued. “Fanciful, I know. Except I’m not one to give way to whims.”
Leonie went very still. She’d never imagined someone would love her.
“You asked why I went after you the night you eloped with Paccard. I knew you were making a mistake. Oh, not that Paccard would turn out to be the brute he was. I could not have predicted what he did. I didn’t want you to be with him, until I’d made my declaration.”
She listened, intent on his words.
“You scare me, Leonie.”
That statement captured her attention. “Why?”
“Because after this, I know I’ll never want anything as much as I want you.” He ran a hand down her arm and over her hip. “And I want all of you, lass. I want to love and protect you and create a good life for us.”
It wasn’t about her money. He wantedher.
And it was a miracle.
Someone loved her. Despite her flaws. Despite her secrets.
Of course, she wasn’t certain what this word “love” meant—and yet, she trusted him to teach her.
Leonie kissed the underside of his chin, the first place she could reach. She sensed the pleasure in his smile. He gathered her even closer, as if he could tuck her body safely inside his, and then he fell asleep.
She couldn’t sleep.
Surrounded by his strength and body heat, she had to marvel at this gift he had given. If he loved her, then he must like her, not want to just possess her.
For so long she’d found herself unlikable—and here now, without any effort on her part, this noble, wonderful man had let her know that she was precious.
Was feeling this sort of appreciation in return “love”?
