“You were saying,” she prodded.
Nodding, George opened his mouth, though his mind couldn’t formulate thought. The sight of her lips called to him, and he longed to feel the touch of her skin once more.
“I thought you were dancing with Mr. Highmore.” Of all the things George wanted to say and all that he ought to say, that had not ranked high on his list, but it was the only thing that sprung forth.
“He didn’t see the need to finish our dance after I rejected his offer of marriage,” she whispered.
Though George wished he could remain collected after such an announcement, he couldn’t help that his brows shot upwards. And though he fully understood her words, he said, “Pardon?”
Marian’s lips trembled and her breath came faster, and George couldn’t help but wonder if her cheeks were turning that heavenly shade of pink beneath the shadows.
“I broke with Mr. Highmore.”
The meaning of her words struck him, and he felt the unspoken intention behind them. She stiffened as though readying herself for what was to come, and George saw the Marian of years past in just such a moment. Once more, it was she who was gathering her courage to speak her heart. He had only a fraction of a heartbeat to understand all that before she was speaking again.
“I did so because—”
George’s hand flew up, his fingers pressing to her lips and forestalling the truths she was about to share. “I love you, Marian Wakefield.”
It was not one of his practiced speeches filled with poetic descriptions of her virtues and loveliness, but none of those flowery words seemed so proper. Those few words chased away the trepidation, shoving aside all worries that she might not reciprocate his feelings to hang there with the utter clarity of inarguable truth. He loved Marian. He had for far longer than this moment, and though the words were years too late, George couldn’t hold them back any longer.
Dropping his hand, he freed her lips, and she blinked at him. “You love me?”
Brushing a gentle touch along the sweep of her jaw, George gave her a self-deprecating smile. “I ought to have told you long ago, but I fear I am not as brave as you. I have longed to say those words from the very moment I realized you were still unmarried. For weeks, you have consumed my thoughts, driving me to distraction and pushing me to greater heights of lunacy, for I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you again. Please tell me I haven’t waited too long.”
Marian trembled, her eyes shining bright in the moonlight. “You love an outspoken lady who is forever flying into a dither? Someone who is bound to upend your calm and rational life at every turn? You, who has the sunniest disposition of anyone I know, love a veritable whirlwind?”
Unable to stop himself, George pulled her flush to him, his free hand coming to wrap around her lower back. Holding her gaze, he continued to stroke her cheek with his thumb.
“I love a lady who is full of passion. Someone who has so much love in her heart that she cannot contain it. Someone who works herself into a dither because she cares so deeply about the world around her.”
Marian’s mouth opened, her eyes widening as tears glimmered in her eyes. “Oh.”
“I may have a sunny disposition, but that calmness also leads me to complacency. I married a woman who was nothing but sunshine as well, and it made me listless and blind to others’ troubles—even those I claim to love.” George frowned at himself, hating so very much that he was unable to rid himself entirely of that flaw. But then, he supposed that was the point of marriage. With Marian at his side, he needn’t do it alone. “You might storm about at times, but I need someone who pushes me and challenges me and won’t allow me to grow stagnant because I am content with mediocrity.”
His smile grew, warming as he took in the sight of her. His Marian. “Can you not see that we are the perfect complement for each other? The world requires both tempests and sunshine to thrive.”
He drew closer, inching nearer until his lips brushed against hers. Marian’s eyes slid closed, and as much as he wanted to close the distance, George paused to study her features. He was certain he would forever remember the moonlight washing her in silver and her lips so soft and inviting.
Then, closing his own eyes, George kissed her. With all the determination of his gentlemanly heart, he’d intended it to be a sweet thing to emphasize his words, but when Marian’s arms drew around him and she met his ardor with all the strength of her indomitable heart, he lost himself in the feel of her. He felt like lifting her and spinning about like a madman, but that would necessitate him releasing her lips, and he was not about to do such a thing.
*
When had she become such a weepy fool? Marian was not one to shy away from tears, but she felt on the verge of sobbing. This was no perfunctory kiss. No chaste sealing of a mutually beneficial arrangement. George burned for her. She felt it in his every touch, and it fed into her own passion. After so many years of broken hopes and dreams, she could not believe George Finch had finally chosen her. Not out of need or convenience, but because he desired her.
Every moment in the past few weeks played through her thoughts again, revealing themselves anew, and she wondered how she had not seen it. George loved her. Not as a friend or a sister, but as a man loves a woman. A proper woman, woman.
But then thought was altogether impossible as her heart took control, and for once, Marian did not fight it. Releasing all control, she fell into the feelings he inspired, reveling in his touch in a way she had only dreamt of. But this was no fantasy. George broke the kiss, and if her wits were still intact, she would have been embarrassed at the whimper it elicited, but thoughts and logic were well and truly eradicated.
“Will you marry me?” he whispered.
His hands cradled her neck, his face so close to hers that Marian wanted to lean forward again and stop all the pointless talking. But then his question broke through her haze, and she blinked at him.
“Marry you?”
George’s lips pulled into a lazy grin, and his thumb brushed tenderly across her cheek, sending a skitter down Marian’s neck. “Marry me, Marian. Please save me from myself.”
Her eyelashes fluttered. “If this is because of my father, you needn’t rush things—”
