Page 77 of Miss Devon’s Choice

“When I first met you, it was,” he answered, then hastened to reach for her, to take both her hands in his. It wouldn’t surprise him if she pulled away, or slapped him, but she allowed him to take her hands. “You terrified me,” he said, voice husky with a very real fear in the moment. He knew the sting of rejection, and he wished to spare her from that. But it was too late.

“Because I said I wanted to love you,” she said, clasping his hands in return. “I understand that. But I must know, Christian. Do you still not wish to marry me?”

Christian stared at her, trying to understand. “You told me, not even a day after we’d met, you intended to fall in love with me.” His heart sunk. “What do you want, carina? You have been forced into this, you have had no say. Do you wish you end this?”

Her cheeks, which were already pink, turned red. But she didn’t lower her eyes or step away. She tilted her chin further up and fixed him with a serious stare. “You must understand, Christian. I meant what I said. Because I want very much what my sisters have, what my cousin has. Haven’t you seen how happy they are?” she asked, a note of pleading in her words.

She spoke rapidly, not giving him room to say a word, her tone urgent. “Thomas and Christine, they are so different, but their lives are balanced by their love. Nathaniel and Julia, they are devoted to each other, to little William. I have never seen such depth of feeling as I do between them. And Virginia, she looks at Lucas as if he is the best of men, and he at her as though no other woman in the world is half so wonderful.” Her voice trembled on the last words, and at last her eyes lowered, her shoulders dropped.

His heart smote him, and he knew. Christian knew it was time to tell her the truth, to speak the words he had told himself he would never say. “Rebecca, il mio amore.”He carefully raised his hand to touch her just beneath her chin, tilting it up so her eyes would meet his. “I love you.”

For a brief moment, her eyes widened and flashed with too many emotions to name. Relief, hope, and love among them, but then there was sadness, and that was the emotion that remained.

“Oh, Christian.” Her lips trembled as they spoke his name and her eyes filled with tears. “That is kind of you to say. It truly is. But please, please don’t say that to me. Not unless you mean it. You cannot love me. You said you never would. You cannot have changed your mind in less than a fortnight. But you needn’t worry. I will marry you, and love you, and be a good wife—” Rebecca was speaking at a speed that didn’t allow for him to say a word. Unless—

He placed his fingers over her lips, staring at her, sorting through her words. Slowly, Christian shook his head at her. “Rebecca. Carina. No. This isn’t—pietà. Pity. That is the English word. No.” He chuckled. “I have spent eleven years perfecting my English, but when I am with you, I forget the simplest things.” He moved his hand to cup her cheek, and she raised her hand to cover his. “I speak the truth. I promised you I always would.”

The hope returned, as a mere glimmer in the depths of her dark eyes, but it was there. “You love me?”

“With everything I am,” he whispered, willing her to feel the strength of his words. “La mia anima e il cuore sono tuoi.”

Her smile appeared, a careful smile. “Should I ask Harry to translate that for me?”

He chuckled. “My soul and my heart are yours, carina,” he said, bending slowly, giving her every chance to stop him, to step back. Instead of moving away, Rebecca lifted her lips to his, and her arms went around his neck. Their lips met, hers soft and gentle against his. Christian wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer, raising a hand to cradle the back of her head, his fingers sinking into her silken hair.

Christian’s heart soared, and breaking their kiss was one of the most difficult things he’d ever done. “I will tell you every day for the rest of our lives,” he whispered, only a breath away from her lips. “I love you. And I wish to do this properly, Rebecca. Will you marry me? Not because someone said you must, but because you desire it.”

Her hands slipped from his neck, resting against his chest instead. Despite his shirt and vest between them, he could feel the warmth of her touch above his heart.

“What about your parents?” she asked. “What about what happened to them? What if something happens to me?”

Christian covered the hand over his heart. He took a deep breath before speaking. “I have been thinking on them both, on my father especially, a great deal since our engagement began. Life is uncertain, this I know, but a very wise woman once told me that it would not be worth living without the joys and sorrows we experience. I would rather love you fully than spend my life trying to fight my heart.”

“You are surrendering to me, so to speak.” The disbelief began to fade, her posture relaxed.

“Entirely,” he said, squeezing her hand. “Forever. If you will have me. If you will not, I will do all in my power to help you find happiness another way.”

She shook her head, then stood on her toes. She pressed her lips to his, tenderly reassuring him with her kiss before she spoke. “I cannot imagine myself as happy unless it is as your wife. I love you, Christian Hundley. My handsome, clever, wonderful man.”

He chuckled and rested his head against hers, enfolding her in his arms. “Handsome? Love really is blind.”

Rebecca shook her head. “My dearest Christian, love sees more than eyes alone can. I see you, and I love you. If I say you are handsome, then you are.” She kissed his cheek, and warmth spread from that spot throughout the rest of his body. It was a familiar feeling, but one he had not experienced since leaving his father. It was acceptance, affection, and love without condition. In Rebecca’s arms, peace spread through him, and he was home at last.

Chapter Twenty-eight

Rebecca smoothed the red overlay of her gown, making certain it hung perfectly, allowing the cream and ivory embroidered skirt beneath to show. Looking in her mirror, she turned first one way and then the other, admiring Hettie’s skill with curling tongs and red ribbons. Tiny red rosebuds had been tucked into artful twists of her chestnut hair.

“I think I’m ready,” Rebecca said, noting the color in her cheeks happily. What would Christian say when he saw her?

A knock came at the door and Rebecca’s heart increased its tempo. She stood, unaccountably nervous. Hettie met her eyes and positively beamed at her before going to the door, opening it—and then squeaking, “My lady.”

“Get out of the way, girl. Rebecca, I need to have a word with you at once—” Aunt Jacqueline swept into the room, wearing regal purple edged in black lace, and froze when she caught sight of Rebecca. “What are you wearing?” she asked, her voice deceptively low and calm.

“A betrothal gift from my sister,” Rebecca answered, squaring her shoulders. “It’s exactly the sort of gown I’ve always wished to wear.”

“It is scandalous. A girl of your age, wearing that color? And where did you have it made? By your little village seamstress?” Aunt Jacqueline scoffed. “Take it off at once. Hettie, get those ridiculous flowers out of her hair.”

Hettie clutched her hands together before her, all color draining from her face. But she didn’t move. She didn’t answer Aunt Jacqueline. She looked instead to Rebecca for direction, and that gave Rebecca the courage to speak for both of them.