“I refuse to frighten you away again.”
Emma leaned back. “I will never leave.”
He found the promise in her eyes and buried it in his soul. Pressing his lips to her cheek, he enjoyed the racing of his heartand her fingers digging into his chest. He lowered his head, pressing another kiss to the corner of her mouth, when the thud of a door closing jolted them apart. Owen took Emma’s hand as he leaned over and blew out the candles on the small table, then tugged her down the corridor.
“Owen—”
“Come,” he whispered. “I vowed to protect your reputation, and I will not fail you.”
He knew the house well now, and it was quick work to lead her down the corridor and around the corner, into a room where he knew they would not be discovered. He closed the door behind them and leaned against it, tugging Emma’s hand until she leaned against the door beside him. Moonlight streamed through the long open windows, highlighting their heaving chests and her long golden braid slung over her shoulder.
“The music room,” she whispered, looking around. It was difficult to make out much of anything in the darkness, but the outlines of the piano and harp were visible, as well as the new sofa and matching chairs.
Pride swelled in his chest. “Do you like it?”
“From what I can see of it, yes. Mrs. Buckley will, too. I know it.”
Owen leaned his shoulder against the door, watching her take in the details as her eyes adjusted to the lack of light. “Marry me, Emma.”
She gasped. “What?”
“I think you heard me. I have waited long enough. I do not want to wait any longer. The entire week I was away was torment being separated from you, and I never want to endure it again.”
“But your mother does not approve?—”
“I don’t care a fig for that.”
“I do. You think I will enjoy family dinners knowing I am the last person she wants at your side?”
He could understand her hesitation, but it was not enough. “I visited a friend this week who sacrificed much so I could be alive. He nearly died for me. When he asked how you felt about me, and I did not know…he made it all sound so simple. And it can be. If you care for me, and I care for you, the rest will work itself out.” Owen released her hand and stepped away from the door to face her. “I love you, Emma.”
She rolled her lips, searching his face, and nodded. “I love you, too.”
It was all he needed. He took her face in his hands and lowered his mouth until it found hers, a dance they had done countless times years before. Heat bloomed in his belly when she pressed her hands to his chest, gripping his waistcoat to pull him closer. He boxed her in against the door, tilting his head to deepen the kiss as his mind was lost to the oblivion that was her rose water scent, soft, velvety lips, and warm hands.
He had been dreaming of this moment for nine years, and nothing about having her in his arms again was less than what he had anticipated. His body thrummed with heat; his hands were hungry for more of her, his lips eager.
Emma’s hands slid up his chest and wrapped behind his neck, causing a low groan deep in his chest. He broke the kiss, pulling her against him in a tight embrace and burying his face in her neck, inhaling her hair as he had longed to do so many times. As he held her, the jagged edges of the last ten years eased, and he finally felt whole. Nothing else mattered in the face of this pure exaltation—not the way he did not measure up for his parents, or the concerns that he would not be enough. Loving her and being loved by her filled each of the cracks and crevices in his soul, driving away his insecurities.
Contentment truly settled over him for the first time in years.
“You’ll be my wife?” he asked, his voice muffled.
She gave a surprised chuckle. “Yes. I will. If we…if Mrs. Buckley agrees. I cannot abandon her.”
“She will agree.”
“You are confident.”
He leaned back, gazing into her eyes. “She sent you here to find me tonight, didn’t she?”
Emma drew in a gasp, pulling away, but he held fast. “Her tincture! I’ve forgotten—Owen, she needs me.”
“She needs nothing of the sort. I distinctly recall bringing her lavender tincture into her bedchamber when she moved.”
Emma stared. “Yet you said nothing when I described the bottle.”
“And risk you leaving? Never.”
