Page 63 of The Duke's Mysterious Lover
He winced, but didn’t turn away. “I’ve never proposed marriage before. I’m no’ certain what’s customary.”
“Not laughing,” she agreed ruefully. “I’m sorry. It surprised me, and I couldn’t believe…”
“That ye’d marry?”
“No! I…” In truth, she’d never considered marriage before. It hadn’t been part of her expectations in life, and she’d never seen a need for the institution. “Thorne,” she tried more gently. “You’re aduke. I’m just a bastard.”
His hands closed around her upper arms. “Ye’re thedaughter of a lord.”
“Thebastarddaughter of a lord and anoperasinger. I’m the least suitable person to marry a duke.”
“Well, no’ theleastsuitable.” His lips twitched. “The male valet I was considering wooing might be less suitable.”
“Aright, yes,” Kit agreed, pleased he saw the humor in the situation, although there was still sadness lurking in his eyes. She stroked his jaw. “Thorne, you’re a very special person, you deserve all the best things in life. Youwillfind the right wife for you. The wife you dream of, theladywho can stand beside you in Society, who will bring honor to your title, who will give you…give you everything I cannot.”
His hands rose now, to cup the sides of her neck. “I dinnae care about honor or titles, Kit. I just want love. I want to love my wife and ken she loves me. That’s what matters to me.”
I love ye, Kit. Nae matter what.
She swallowed, her breathing suddenly shallow.
Oh shite. He’d said those words days ago, before they’d even slept together.
Had they been true? Was it possible this man—this wonderful, remarkable, powerful man—could loveher?
Kit was already shaking her head, her instincts taking over. “I’m no one,” she whispered. “I’m just a bastard, a bastard who’s been masquerading as a man, as yourvalet. Youcannotwant to marry me, Thorne. Youcannotmarry me.”
I won’t allow you to do that to yourself, not when you deserve so much better. You deserve someone who can say the sweet words you need to hear.
His eyes swam with sadness as he lowered his lips to hers. This kiss was soft and slow and she tasted tears—although she wasn’t certain if they were his or hers.
Just because she couldn’tsaythe sweet words Thorne needed to hear didn’t mean she wasn’t thinking them.
Oh, hell.It was true. She’d gone and fallen in love with him, hadn’t she?
I love you, Thorne Cumming, and it’s best you never know.
Chapter 13
Thorne pacedacross the carpet in the Stroken House study.Hisstudy.
His study, where he’d worked for the last six months, trying to simultaneously understand his new responsibilities and figure out how in the everlovingfookhe was supposed to free himself and his friends from the threat of Blackrose.
Was it any wonder he felt like a failure?
Blackrose was still roaming free.
Thorne was still floundering under the weight of the dukedom.
And the one thing hethoughthe’d done right—propose marriage to a woman he loved—had failed as well.
Unconsciously, he glanced toward the cold hearth, where Kit stood with her violin tucked beneath her chin, eyes focused on one of his pieces of sheet music. Thorne slowed, hands curling into fists at his side.
He’d given her that piece of himself—somany pieces of himself. And she’d taken it, taken them, into herself and returned them a hundred times better. He’d always lovedreading the neat little notes, hearing the music in his mind…but listening to her play it was far, far better.
Her notes wrapped around him, putting his mind at rest, making everything smooth again.
With her, he wasn’t a failure. When Kit played, he was able to understand the business of the dukedom, able to focus on what needed to be done. Andshemade it easier, not just through her music.
