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He wanted to wed her. Her. A simple country girl. Could her heart possibly swell any further with joy?

“Willow, I am a new man with you by my side. You have helped me heal and have given me hope I never imagined I’d have. I asked you to be my countess, not because we were caught in a compromising situation, not because my mother says I must as a gentleman, and, by God, not because my own honor demands I do so. I ask you because I need you. My heart needs you, and only you.” He brought her hand to his chest and pressed her palm to the warm flesh.

A shudder rippled through her. His every word a caress. A balm. An aphrodisiac. She longed to ignore caution and reservation, and permit herself this happiness.

“You complete me,” he whispered, his voice gravelly with emotion. “I am whole with you. And I cannot bear a single day or hour without you, let alone a lifetime.”

“Ansley, have you considered the scandal?” She certainly had. Over and over and over again. “It could be awful. Ugly. Brutal.”

Willow scooted forward on the cushion a few inches until her knees touched his rigid torso. Sometime during their conversation, he’d dropped to his knees, and now he wrapped his sinewy arms around her waist and drew her near.

“What is a scandal compared to not having you, the very light of my existence? Scandals come and go.” Hope glittered in his eyes. Hope and love, too.

Love for her. Something she’d never expected but was, nevertheless, the most brilliant of confessions. Most beloved of treasures.

“We need never go to London, my dearest.” He dropped the sweetest of kisses onto her nose. “We can remain at Fawntonbrooke, away from the haut ton, if you prefer. Just say you’ll marry me. We’ll work out the rest later.”

She bit her lower lip to keep the word thrumming there from bursting forth.

Yes. Yes. Oh, yes. Yes, Ansley. I’ll marry you tomorrow if you wish it.

“And you would have no regrets?” she asked, forcing the words past her lips. “That I’m not of noble blood? That I have no more idea how to be a countess than a farrier or a cooper?”

“My darling, Willow, the only thing I would regret for the rest of my life, and with every breath that I draw, is if you will not consent to be my wife.” Shaking his head, he gave her a wry smile, then pressed his forehead to hers and kissed her nose again.

He seemed to like kissing her nose, and the action was so endearing, she nearly giggled.

“I love you, Willow Harwood. Nothing and no one else matters.”

With a half sob, half laugh, she threw her arms around his neck, raining kisses over his throat and his lightly-stubbled chin and jaw. “Oh, Ansley. I love you, too. So much, it nearly shattered me to think of leaving. But I would not bring disgrace upon you, for I know I’m not worthy—”

“Shh.” He put a finger to her lips. “Never, ever say that again. You are worthy, and I am a man humbled beyond measure that you love me. Me, with all of my quirks and odd habits.”

Sniffling, she smiled. “I think they’re endearing.” She’d cherish the grateful, almost bashful smile he gave her at that moment for the rest of her life.

“Therefore, I ask you again, Willow Harwood. Will you take me with all my flaws and my idiosyncrasies, some of which I may never be able to overcome, and become my beloved wife?”

“Yes.” Lips trembling from emotion, she smiled and blinked to clear the moisture from her vision. “Yes,” she said again, more forcefully this time as she nodded vehemently. “I shall.”

With a groan, he swept her into his arms. His firm mouth came down hard upon hers in a blistering kiss that sent a jolt of scorching desire to her cold toes. “But I have one condition, Ansley.” Bending her mouth coyly, she traced a finger down his chest, loving the feel of his bare flesh beneath the pad.

At once, he stilled, poised above her on the settee.

When had he laid her down and joined her on the narrow divan, his body fitted to hers like fingers in a glove?

An eyebrow cocked dubiously, he trailed a finger from her collarbone to the neat ribbon tied just above her bosom. “And what might that be?” he asked, his voice a seductive rasp.

“I should like to give you an early Christmas present.” She also touched the bow and quirked an eyebrow. She’d never been so simultaneously excited and nervous. But she’d dreamed of being with him. Of making love with him, and this felt so right. So perfect. “Would you like to unwrap your present, or shall I?”

A wicked grin curved his mouth, and desire turned his navy-blue eyes nearly black. “Oh, I do believe I should very much like unwrapping my first gift from you. And I shall enjoy unwrapping that treasured gift for the rest of our lives.”