She tilted her head. "Finished?"
"I shall close every route. Every shipment. Every arrangement." His voice became firm with conviction. "No profit is worth risking you. No bolt of silk is worth placing our family in danger because of my mistakes."
Seraphine rose and walked towards him. She reached for both of his hands. "You should have told me, Damien."
He looked almost ashamed. "I know."
She smiled gently. "I would not have loved you any less."
He froze. "You... would not?"
She shook her head. "No." Her fingers tightened around his. "I married a man, not a saint."
A surprised laugh escaped him.
"And besides," she added with a teasing smile, "I have become rather fond of your dreadful habit of rescuing me."
His eyes softened. "You accept me?"
"I accept all of you."
Emotion filled his expression. "Even the foolish parts?"
"Especially the foolish parts."
He gave a quiet, disbelieving shake of his head. "I do not deserve you."
"Perhaps not," she replied with gentle humor. "But you have me nonetheless."
For a heartbeat he simply looked at her.
Then a warm smile spread across his face.
"Thank you," he said softly. "For seeing the man behind all my mistakes." He lifted one of her hands and pressed a tender kiss against her knuckles. "I love you, Seraphine."
Her heart swelled. "I love you."
Without another word, he lifted her effortlessly into his arms. Seraphine laughed in surprise, instinctively wrapping one arm around his neck.
"Damien! I am perfectly capable of walking."
"I am aware." He arched a brow at her.
"Then why carry me?" she asked.
"Because I have spent far too many days keeping my distance from my wife."
Her heart fluttered. "As you wish, Your Grace."
Relief settled over Seraphine so suddenly. Only hours ago she had believed Damien had been eager to send her away, that Scotland had been little more than an excuse to rid himself of a wife he had married out of duty. Now every misunderstanding unraveled before her eyes. Every cold refusal, every stern order, every sleepless night had not been born of indifference but fear.
He had never wanted to lose me. He had been desperately trying to keep me alive.
The knowledge warmed her heart until tears blurred her vision once more. He carried her through the quiet corridors of Wexford Manor and into his bedchamber. The familiar room, with its tall windows, polished mahogany furnishings, andquietly burning fire, suddenly felt warmer than it ever had before.
Damien gently lowered her onto her feet beside the bed but made no move to step away. Instead, he rested his forehead lightly against hers. For several moments neither of them spoke. There was no need.
"I shall spend the rest of my life making amends," he said.
