Page 61 of Claiming His Christmas Angel

“Is it? You’ve been adamant about not marrying me from the moment I asked you.”

“Can you blame me?” Her amusement disappeared. In its place was that cool demeanor he found so frustrating. Pulling the horses to a halt, he turned toward her.

“Atticus, you can’t just stop in the middle of the road,” she exclaimed in amazed disbelief.

“Do you see anyone else out here with us?” he snapped. Her sweet mouth thinned at his sharp reply. When she shook her head, he extended his arm along the back of the sleigh and leaned into her, enjoying the scent of violets invading his nostrils. “I don’t blame you for your pessimistic outlook regarding matrimony, Octavia. Between the bastards that pursued you for your money, and you bearing witness to so many unhappy marriages among the Set, I’m surprised you didn’t retire to the country sooner.”

“If you understand all that about me, why are you so adamant that we marry?” she snapped fiercely. “What makes you think a union between us wouldn’t be a terrible mistake?”

“Because last night was incredible. You were incredible,” he said quietly.

At his words, color rose and crested in her cheeks. He couldn’t tell if her reaction was one of embarrassment or pleasure. Atticus chose to think it was both. Octavia averted her gaze to stare out at the snow-covered landscape. Silence hovered between them, and Atticus dragged in a breath of cold air. Should he tell her he loved her? Would she believe him?

No, she didn’t trust him enough to believe he was sincere. He would have to wait just a little while longer. If things worked out the way he’d planned, she would be convinced of his feelings for her before the day was done. But while he still had her attention, he would use whatever tool at his disposal to reinforce his belief they could be happy together. Even if she never came to love him with the same depth of feeling he had for her, she would at least be close enough to touch or hear or see. He was willing to live with that.

“Last night is an example of the kind of marriage we can have, Octavia. A marriage based on common interests and the fiery passion that exists between us. I’ve never experienced anything like it before. You’re the first woman I’ve ever known who I see as both a friend and a lover. That’s a rare thing in any relationship. That’s why I think our marrying would be a good thing. We can be happy, if you’ll just open yourself to the idea.”

Atticus caught her chin in his fingers and forced her to look at him. The emotions flitting across her face gave him hope. Despite her wariness, it was evident she was giving his words careful consideration. Octavia studied him for a long moment, and something flashed in the gray depths of her eyes that made him believe he’d reached her.

Seconds later, she pulled free of his grasp, and his heart sank. Once more, he’d underestimated her fear of marriage. Worse, it meant he still had a long way to go when it came to convincing her to trust him. Octavia’s tremor vibrated into him as he saw her throat bob.

The shudder was a tactile sensation that made an invisible band wrap around his chest and tighten until it was difficult to breathe. He shifted in his seat, preparing to urge the horses forward again, when she began to speak.

“I…last night…” She inhaled a deep breath and bowed her head. “I thought it was wonderful, too.”

For a moment, Atticus wasn’t certain he’d heard her whispered response clearly. Rigid with uncertainty, he stared down at her. When he didn’t speak, Octavia lifted her head to look up at him. The trepidation on her features made his gut twist, and he cupped her face with his gloved hands and kissed her gently.

When he drew back, Atticus considered whether or not to ask her to accept his proposal now. If he wanted Octavia’s complete trust, he needed to show he was a man of his word. The best way to do that was to abide by the bargain they’d struck yesterday afternoon.

“Then I hope the Earl of Montford holds a favorable opinion of me when it comes to him deciding if I’m good enough for his eldest daughter.”

“I…I don’t understand…I thought…”

“We have an agreement that the question of marriage would be settled by your father. I’m a man of my word, Octavia,” he said as he met her gaze steadily. “If your father deems me unsuitable for you, then the final decision is yours to make.”

Atticus shifted his position and picked up the reins. With a light slap of leather against the hindquarters of the horses, he urged them to move forward. Beside him, Octavia’s bewilderment was an almost palpable sensation. It was obvious she’d expected his reaction to be different. Suddenly feeling light-hearted, Atticus began to whistle God Rest You Merry, Gentlemen as he slapped the reins against the backs of Camulos and Napoleon once more, urging them into a faster trot.

The distance to the Hall was less than Atticus had calculated, and when Stapleton Hall came into view, his throat tightened. The surge of confidence he’d experienced a short time ago had disappeared. He glanced at Octavia as he drove the sleigh up the drive, but her expression was unreadable.

Atticus brought the horses to a halt in front of the Hall’s front door, and as he leapt down out of the vehicle, the door of the manor flew open. Striding out into the frosty air, Lord Montford was the first one to reach them as Atticus helped Octavia down onto the snow-covered drive. The earl hugged his daughter tight, then gave her up to Lady Montford’s embrace, who had hurried down the steps close on her husband’s heels. The earl turned toward Atticus and extended his hand.

“Thank you for bringing our daughter home to us, your grace. I’m happy to see you safe and well. When it started to snow heavily more than an hour after you departed, I realized I should not have let you gone after Octavia.”

“You would not have been able to stop me, my lord. I was as worried about her welfare as you and Lady Montford. Speaking of which, I’d like to speak with you on a matter of some urgency.” Atticus’s steadfast gaze met the earl’s, and the older man darted a glance at his daughter then nodded.

“Of course,” Lord Montford said.

Excited cries of relief and happiness filled the air as Liza and Octavia’s sisters raced out of the Hall and down the steps to greet them. Atticus’s mother followed the young women at a somewhat slower pace. The moment Liza reached him, she threw her arms around Atticus and hugged him tight.

“Mama and I have been so worried, Atticus,” his sister said in a voice that echoed with relief as she released him and stepped aside for his mother to hug him tight.

“Your sister is correct, dearest. We’ve all managed to let our thoughts run amuck worrying about you and Lady Octavia’s safety.”

“I would say there was no need, but given the severity of the storm, I understand your concern,” he murmured as he kissed his mother’s cheek. “I regret having caused you any worry.”

Despite everyone speaking all at once, the earl managed to be heard above all the chatter as he ordered everyone indoors. Atticus turned toward Octavia, but she was already climbing the steps into the Hall. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw servants unloading the back of the sleigh, and he quickly stepped forward to pull his painting out of the mix.

As Atticus stepped into the main foyer of Stapleton Hall, he leaned the painting against a table next to the wall and proceeded to remove his outerwear. His gaze focused on Octavia, who acknowledged something her mother said as she slipped off her coat.