Now unbridled, yearning swept through her like a forest fire, drawing with it a sheen of tears that she fought against, but the emotions surging through her could not be contained any further.
“I love you.” Violet’s eyes widened, her muscles tightening as she realized that the words had forced themselves out.
Dr. Vaughn’s brows shot up, his posture mirroring hers as he stared back at her. “You do?”
Her heart crumpled at the sight of her vulnerabilities and doubts echoed in him. Violet knew enough of his history to suspect there were a great many wounds he nursed, and her heart throbbed at the thought that such an incredible person would have reason to question whether she loved him.
“Of course I do, how could I not?” The question burst out of her as a shout, and before she could do a thing about it, tears flooded her vision and coursed down her cheeks. Ninny! She hated that her emotions broke free of their dam once more, and most especially that he was to witness yet another surge. Could she never speak to him of sensitive subjects and not fall to pieces? But now that it had begun, she couldn’t stop.
“You are wonderful—and kind—and patient—and forgiving—and—and—and—” Her breaths grew ragged as she struggled to list all the reasons why any woman with an ounce of sense would count herself lucky to win his heart.
And then arms came around her, drawing her into him. That blend of herbs and cinnamon filled her nose, calming heras his hands rubbed at her back; his voice was a low rumble, murmuring to her as Violet tried to calm herself. Drawing her arms around his neck, she leaned her head against his as her breaths fought to steady.
“I am such a blubbering fool,” she whispered.
His voice was low, but it vibrated through her as his hands continued to rub gentle circles along her back. “No, Violet. You are someone who carries a mighty load and rarely has anyone willing to help you bear it up.”
Jerking backward, she looked into his eyes, her brows twisting together. “What did you call me?”
Had she not been so close, she might not have noticed the slight pinking in his cheeks. “I apologize for taking such a liberty—”
Violet shook her head. “No. You called me Violet. No one calls me Violet.”
“Do you prefer Vi?” he asked with a furrowed brow. “I know everyone else calls you such, but I like Violet. It is a beautiful name and is far better suited for you.”
Her lungs sucked in a sharp breath, and her chin trembled anew. “You think so?”
One hand left her back, rising to her cheek to brush a thumb there. His gaze studied her features with such intensity, as though every inch was deserving of such scrutiny, and though Violet could hardly believe it, the gentleman leaned closer as his eyes fell to her lips. Everything inside her stuttered, and the seconds slowed as he drew nearer.
At the last moment, Violet jerked back with a wince, closing her eyes. When she opened them again, she met Arthur’s gaze.
“Do you truly mean this?” she whispered, knowing full well that the fear that pulsed through her shone in her eyes and tone. “I cannot bear…My heart—I—”
The words stuck in her throat, but Arthur’s gaze softened once more, his thumb caressing her cheek as his lips drew into the sort of smile she had always longed to see. He knew. He understood. Violet felt it in her bones.
“I love you, Violet,” he whispered before leaning in to capture her lips in a kiss.
*
A grown man of two and thirty ought to know precisely how to kiss a lady, imbuing each touch with all the fervor of his heart. When approaching his lady love, a gentleman didn’t quiver or quake; no, he embraced the moment—and his sweetheart—showing her the depth of his affection with ease. But then, Arthur was beginning to realize that so much of his life did not align with what it “ought” to be.
Holding Violet in his arms, he gently brought his lips to hers, hoping that some instinct would surge to the forefront and guide his actions. He felt her matching tentativeness in her touches, and though his nerves begged him to retreat before he made a fool of himself, he couldn’t help but revel in the wonder that was her lips.
The movements were awkward at first, but Arthur refused to listen to the voice that criticized each one, and all thought vanished when her fingers brushed along the edge of his collar, tickling the back of his neck; awareness struck as her touch drifted into his thinning hair, and Arthur stiffened—only to relax as she hummed with pleasure. Heat surged through his veins, and he surrendered to the feeling, casting everything else aside as he reveled in the feel of Violet in his arms.
Whether unpracticed or ungainly, the kiss meant far more than the mere act itself. After weeks of stumbling about, they were together now. No more misunderstandings or mistakes. Simply Arthur and Violet. Sweethearts.
Arthur forced himself to pull away, his breaths coming quickly as his hands rested on her hips. Violet stood flush to him, her eyes almost dazed as a dreamy smile lifted her lips. No, she was not some tiny creature who gazed up at him or rested her head against his chest, and Arthur didn’t know why any gentleman would wish for such a thing. Violet filled his arms, melding together with him perfectly.
Surprise flashed in her eyes, and she straightened, her brows knitting together as her tears gathered once more. Arthur stiffened, but before he could say anything, she waved it away.
“Don’t mind me. I am just being silly,” she whispered.
“What about?”
A self-deprecating smile brightened the shimmers in her eyes. “I just realized that I have waited so many years to be courted, and I didn’t even recognize what was happening. I missed it all, went straight from spinster to engaged.”
Arthur’s arms clamped tightly around her, and he fought to keep his expression clear, though her statement sent a shock of cold washing through him.
