Not now. Not tonight.
Finn cleared his throat. “Lord Wrexley is—”
“I wasn’t worried about Lord Wrexley.”
This time it was Finn’s turn to catch his breath. Had she been worried abouthim?
“After our talk in the stables today, I spoke with Lady Tallant, and she told me…I was wrong about him. The wager, and his part in Lady Beaumont’s appearance in the garden that day. You tried to warn me, but I wouldn’t listen to you. I was wrong about you, and I—I beg your pardon, Lord Huntington.”
Relief rushed through Finn then—a relief so powerful he felt dizzy with it—but there was one more thing he had to know before he could put the question of Lord Wrexley behind them forever. “Do you…are you in love with him?”
Her blue eyes were soft as they rested on his face. “No.”
Finn’s eyes drifted closed as her whispered word washed over him. With that one small word, she’d managed to fill that lonely, cold space inside him he’d despaired of ever reaching.
She didn’t love Wrexley, and that meant there was still a chance for them. “Iris, I need…I want to…” He trailed off, because whatever he said, whatever words he chose, he knew they wouldn’t be enough, and in the next moment he was beside her, so close his knee brushed against hers when he reached for her.
Finn wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms, but she held him back with a gentle hand on his chest. “I’ve been in here all day, thinking about our betrothal, and how I jilted you, and I need to tell you—”
“It doesn’t matter anymore.” He wrapped his fingers around the hand on his chest and leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers. “None of that matters now.”
“It does matter. I need to tell you the truth, Lord…Finn. I lied to you when I told you I jilted you because of the wager, and because of Lady Beaumont, and because you didn’t kiss me that day in Lady Fairchild’s garden. Those were never the reasons. I thought they were, but they were excuses, just as you said the day we first came to Hadley House. I lied to myself, just as surely as I lied to you.”
She looked into his eyes, and the pleading look in hers nearly broke his heart in two. He wanted to tell her it didn’t matter, that she didn’t have to say anything more, but if they were going to move forward from this moment, they had to do so with nothing but the truth between them.
Finn cupped her cheek in his hand. “All right, sweet. I’m listening.”
“I was afraid—” Her brows drew together and she broke off with a slow shake of her head.
He stroked her cheek. “What were you afraid of?”
She drew in a deep breath, as if to help her push the words out, but when she did speak, her voice was a whisper. “I was afraid if I married you I’d become the lady I pretended to be during our courtship. I was afraid…” Her voice caught, and her gaze dropped to her hands. “I was afraid I’d lose myself, and I’d never become anything more than who I am right now.”
Finn’s throat went thick with words, with denials, because she said it as if who she was now was nothing special.
Didn’t she know? Didn’t she see how remarkable she was?
No, she didn’t, and why would she?
He hadn’t.
But now he did, and there was no going back from it.
“I’ve never admired fair hair.” He reached for a loose lock of her hair and tucked it behind her ear, then brushed his fingertips across her cheekbone. “Blue eyes, either. I’ve always preferred ladies with dark coloring.”
She blinked once, twice, then her brows pulled down in a frown. “Yes, ah….well, every gentleman is different.”
“Or pink lips.” He touched a finger to the center of her bottom lip. “Especially when they hide such a sharp tongue, as yours do. You’ve a temper, for all that your lips look like rosebuds, and I’ve never wanted a lady with a temper.”
The rosebud lips pressed into an irritated line, and she wrapped her fingers around his wrist to pull his hand away from her face. “If you’ve quite finished—”
“I haven’t.” He slid his fingers to the back of her neck and held her, a half smile on his lips as his gaze touched every part of her face, and this time, he didn’t think about it before he said it. This time, he didn’t worry he’d stumble over his words, or say the wrong thing. He didn’t try to deny it, or reduce it to something less than what it was. “I never wanted any of it, until you. I wantyou, and it’s not because of Wrexley, or because thetonwill gossip about us, or because I feel an obligation toward you. I want you because I’m in love with you, Iris.”
Her fingers went slack around his wrist, and she stilled.
He brushed a gentle kiss against her mouth, then trailed his lips across her cheek to whisper in her ear. “You’re everything I never knew I wanted, and everything I can’t live without.”
Chapter Nineteen
