Page 112 of Lord Garson's Bride
He smiled. “But that’s good, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” She blinked to clear her vision. To no avail. “And because I never thought this would happen.”
Remorse darkened his eyes, and his smile faded. “I’m sorry it took me so long to see that I loved you. It’s been as plain as the nose on my face for months.”
“Such a noble nose, too.” She choked back a soggy gurgle of laughter. “I forgive you.”
This time, he didn’t smile back. His gaze pierced right to her soul. “Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
“When I rode here, I wasn’t sure you’d have me, even after I told you I love you.”
“Oh, Hugh, I’m not that proud.” She kissed him softly on the lips, as gradually she accepted that against all the odds, she’d won everything she wanted. “I was almost at the point of crawling back to you anyway.”
“I don’t deserve you.” It was his turn to kiss her, with a reverence that melted her bones to honey.
He lashed his arms about her and drew her into the shelter of his body. For a long while, she rested against him in perfect peace. They’d come so close to losing each other that she needed to come to terms with how radically her life had changed in the last few minutes. Through the silence, fear and anger and anguish drifted to oblivion, leaving only an infinity of love.
Eventually, she drew far enough away to see his beloved face. He looked made anew, too, at ease as she’d never seen him.
“What is it, my love?” he asked softly.
Wonder flooded her. “You look…happy. Truly happy.”
“I am.” His smile made her feel as if the sun shone just for her. “Do you love me?”
With a shock, she realized she hadn’t told him. Not properly. Not so he knew how profoundly and eternally she pledged herself to him. “You know I do.”
“Will you say it?”
She caressed his jaw, feeling strength beneath her fingers, while his deep, dark eyes reflected his generous heart. “I love you, Hugh,” she said quietly. “I’ll always love you.”
He closed his eyes, as if dazzled by what he saw. When he opened them, she saw a world of love. “And I love you, Jane, my beloved wife. Can we start again? Can we go to Derbyshire and make a life where there are no more shadows between us?”
“I’d like that,” she said. “Take me to Beardsley Hall, Hugh. Take me home.”
Epilogue
Beardsley Hall, Derbyshire, March 1834
When Hugh entered the candlelit bedroom, Jane looked up from her dazed contemplation of her newborn son. She could hardly believe that she and Hugh had made this perfect little person.
“The dragon outside has at last allowed me to see you.” He smiled at her from the doorway. “Are you ready for visitors?”
From where she rested against a pile of pillows in the huge four-poster bed, she discerned the signs of weariness and strain on his face. She’d been in labor most of the day, which had provided some interesting moments, but at least she’d been actively involved in events. Poor Hugh had been downstairs with nothing but his fear to keep him company. When he’d tried to see Jane before this, the midwife had given him his marching orders in no uncertain terms. Mrs. Moffatt was adamant about no men present during the delivery, well and truly earning the title of dragon.
“For you?” She smiled back. “Always.”
“Thank God for that.”
His clothes were rumpled, whiskers darkened his impressive jaw, and his thick hair was untidy. He looked appealingly poetic, as though he’d been battling with his inspiration all day, butshe knew he wouldn’t appreciate the description. “Has it been beastly?”
His lips turned down. “Vile. But nothing to compare with what you’ve gone through, I’m sure.”
“He was worth it.” Jane glanced down at the dark-haired baby, sleeping like an angel in her arms. He certainly hadn’t been an angel coming into the world, although he’d been a champion when she breastfed him for the first time. “Do you plan to hover on the threshold forever? Come over and say good evening to your son.”
Hugh looked sheepish and closed the door after him as he stepped into the room. “Can I kiss you?”
