Page 54 of The Earl's Scarred Bride

"Yes." She met his gaze steadily. "And you will not enjoy the consequences."

"There's my fierce wife," Cecil murmured, a hint of his old smirk playing at his lips. "I have missed her terribly."

"Have you?" Elizabeth tried to keep her voice stern, but she could feel her resolve weakening. The familiar warmth of his touch, the scent of him surrounding her—it was becomingincreasingly difficult to remember why she was supposed to be angry.

"More than you know." His thumb traced circles on the back of her hand, sending shivers up her arm. "I missed everything about you. Your smile when you best me at cards. Your fierce protectiveness of those you love. Even your stubbornness when you believe you're right—which is almost always."

Despite herself, Elizabeth felt her lips twitch. "Almost?"

"Well," he said, his eyes twinkling with familiar mischief, "you were wrong about one thing."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"You thought I wouldn't want you because of this." His free hand came up to trace her scar gently, from her cheek down to where it disappeared beneath her collar. "When in truth, it was one of the first things that made me fall in love with you."

"Cecil," she whispered, her eyes stinging with tears.

"It shows your strength," he continued, his fingers still trailing along the mark. "Your resilience. How you've faced every challenge life has thrown at you and emerged stronger. More beautiful." His voice dropped lower. "More precious to me than you could possibly imagine."

Elizabeth's heart thundered in her chest. "You cannot say such things."

"Why not?"

"Because—" She struggled to find the words. "Because I am still angry with you."

"As you should be." His thumb brushed her bottom lip. "I deserve your anger. Your fury. Whatever punishment you deem fitting."

"Do you truly mean that?"

"Every word." His eyes held hers, serious now. "Name your price for forgiveness, Elizabeth. Whatever it is, I will pay it gladly."

She studied his face—the earnestness in his expression, the vulnerability he no longer tried to hide from her. "Perhaps," she said slowly, "we could start with you explaining exactly what you meant earlier about wanting children."

Cecil's breath caught audibly. "Are you saying?—"

"I'm saying that people can change their minds," she interrupted, her cheeks flushing. "That perhaps, after seeing what kind of father you might be, after watching how you are with your sisters..." She trailed off, suddenly uncertain.

"Elizabeth." His voice was rough with emotion. "Are you telling me you want?—"

"I'm telling you that I'm not opposed to the idea anymore," she said quickly. "That I might be willing to consider—oh!"

Cecil had pulled her fully into his arms, crushing her against his chest. "My love," he breathed into her hair. "My incredible, amazing love."

"You haven't let me finish," Elizabeth protested weakly, though her arms had already wound around his neck of their own accord.

"Then finish," he murmured, but he didn't release her. "Tell me everything you want. Everything you dream of. I want to hear it all."

She drew back just enough to see his face, though she remained in the circle of his arms. "I want us to try again," she said softly. "Properly this time. No more running from our fears. No more hiding from each other."

"Yes," he agreed instantly. "Anything else?"

"I want—" She hesitated, then gathered her courage. "I want to see you smile when you look at those paintings of your mother. Not because you've forgotten the pain she caused, but because you've learned to remember the good parts too. The way your sisters do."

Cecil's arms tightened around her. "Elizabeth..."

"And I want," she continued, her voice growing stronger, "to wake up beside you every morning. To argue with you over cards and dance lessons. To make new memories in every room of our home, until the painful ones fade away."

"Our home," he repeated, his voice thick with emotion. "Yes. A thousand times yes."

---