Page 94 of Wedded to the Ruthless Duke

“No, Grace. Wait.” He hastened after her, cutting off her path by the next lantern. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Eleanor hasn’t come to see me in days. What has Tabitha done? What is it I don’t know?”

She wouldn’t look him in the eye. Instead, she stared blankly into his chest. She seemed so regal yet distanced at that moment. She was every inch the duchess, yet he wantedhisduchess back. He wanted wild Grace. He wanted Grace running with her gown lifted about her knees, laughing loudly, and falling in a heap with him on that blanket.

“Grace?” he asked again, his voice softening as it grew deeper. He took a step toward her. “What is it I do not know?”

“Tabitha has been giving stories about me to the scandal sheets,” she said in a sudden rush. “She was the one who fed them lies.”

“What? Whatever for? She’s your cousin!”

“It hardly matters why. Are you pretending now Eleanor has not told you?”

“She’s told me nothing!” he hissed and stepped toward her. He reached for her hand, but she snatched it away, stumbling back. She tripped on the hem of the gown he’d had made for her, and he reached up, grabbing her around the waist before she could fall. They hobbled together for a second then found their balance.

His hands rested on her waist as she held her hands outward, not daring to touch him. Her eyes were wet with unshed tears. Now they were so close together, he could see it all though she still wouldn’t look him in the eye.

“Then why have you asked me to come out here? Why would you want to see me at all after how much I have embarrassed you? We both know you cannot stand the sight of me at this moment —”

“Stand the sight of you? Do you have any idea how wrong you are!?”

“You do not want me. You regret the marriage. You only did it to save your own reputation.”

“For Christ’s sake, Grace.” He lifted one of his hands to her face, taking her chin and lifting her face, so she had to look him in the eye at last. “I asked you here because I am going mad from missing you.”

The wetness of her eyes was all the more obvious now. In the lantern light, they shone like golden orbs.

“Philip,” she whispered, her breath hitching. He shifted his hand, moving his thumb to wipe away one tear that escaped down her cheek.

“Don’t cry, Grace. Please. I have clearly been wrong about so many things, denying many things to myself too, but I am here now, and there is so much I need to say to you.”

“You were right about one thing.” She swallowed, uneasily, sniffing and clearly trying to stop any more of those tears from falling. “When you said I wanted to get away from you.”

Philip’s gut tightened. She didn’t love him then as he loved her. She wanted to be free, to run away from him.

“I did because I cannot handle just one month.” Her words made his hand turn on her cheek, the thumb caressing the edge down to her bottom lip. “It’s all or nothing, Philip. I cannot bear just one month with you, only for your presence to be snatched away from me completely. I think I wanted to get away to stop further heartbreak. You caused enough as it is.”

She pushed into his chest, begging for release, but he wouldn’t let her go. He threaded his arm further across her waist, drawing her in even closer. She no longer made an effort to escape him though more tears fell, much quicker now as her breath hitched.

“I want forever with you,” she whispered between her hiccoughing breath. “Because I am madly in love with you, hopelessly so, and if you can’t offer me forever then a picnic,” she waved a hand toward the display he had made in the summerhouse, “is a very bad idea.”

“Oh God, Grace.” He ran his thumb across her bottom lip, so overwhelmed that all he wanted to do was kiss her after her confession, but he knew she wouldn’t let him. Not yet. He turned her chin up, so she would look at him again. “I was the one supposed to be making a confession tonight.”

“Confession?” she whispered. “What do you mean?”

“I mean simply this.” He bent toward her, a smile now lifting his features. “That if you didn’t turn nearly every conversation we ever had into a fight then I would have told you that I love you by now.”

He brushed his lips against her own. It started soft, a mere brush, a tantalizing excitement of everything they had shared in the past and could yet experience again. He felt her sink into the kiss, one of her hands tightening around the edge of his waistcoat, but he couldn’t give in completely yet, for there was something more he had to say first.

He pulled back, just enough so that he could place both hands on her cheeks and wipe away all signs of her tears.

“I am not here to offer one picnic for one night,” he said hurriedly, desperate to tell her everything now. “I’m here to tell you that when I thought you didn’t want me, it broke me. That’s why I drove you away — because I couldn’t bear the pain of it. I don’t want to lose you, Grace. I’m offering more than one night. I’m offering that forever. If you will have me.”

He waited with bated breath for her answer. Hearing she loved him too was everything, but this was what he was truly after — her commitment to him, the knowledge that they were both in this now for good.

“Stay with me, wife?” he pleaded. “Stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

EPILOGUE

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