Page 20 of Betting on a Baron
She did as he asked and halted at the crest of the hill. “Unhand me.” She’d walk home rather than ride in Ambrose’s carriage.
His hand dropped to his side. “I apologize.”
She searched his features and asked, “Do you even know what you are apologizing for?”
The confused flicker in his gaze told her he didn’t. Not willing to subject herself to further embarrassment, Daphne scanned the area and found Sue seated on the back of Ambrose’s carriage. She marched towards Sue and her heart sank at the lack of booted footfalls behind her. Was it too much to ask for the man to show her how much he desired her? Or was it truly only one sided?
* * *
Hands pressed to the window,Ambrose peered through the glass pane into the dimly lit room. Daphne said she’d be reading in the library, but if his orientation was correct, the light was coming from the lower floor drawing room and not the library. He scanned the room for Daphne. The fireplace was lit but unless she was resting upon the settee, there was no sign of the woman who had left him befuddled in the park earlier.
Lurking about in the gardens was not something Ambrose was accustomed to, nor was he entirely comfortable with the idea of meeting Daphne in the middle of the night in private. Reining in his ever-growing need to be close to her was getting harder by the minute and it had only been a blasted week. Seven days of being in close proximity to the woman and he already memorized every curve of her body.
After replaying their conversation in the park over and over, he’d have to be a buffoon not to realize Daphne wished to discuss something of import in private. Ambrose wedged his fingers under the sill and lifted. The window opened and he entered the house like a thief. He approached the sitting area and found Daphne curled up on the settee with a volume tucked beneath her cheek. He walked around and crouched in front of her. Daphne’s chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. Sound asleep, he studied her silhouette. For years, Daphne had been by his sister’s side and he’d failed to notice how beautiful she was. His lips twitched at the sight of the small beauty mark that resided at the edge of her cheek near her ear. He wanted to lean forward and press his lips to her cheek, but he wasn’t here to ravish the woman. He was here because she wished to speak to him.
“Daphne.” He cupped her face and lightly brushed his thumb over her cheek. “Daphne, wake up.”
Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled. “You came.”
“I apologize for being a dolt.”
He pulled back his hand from her face but she caught his wrist in her hand and placed his hand back against her cheek. She didn’t reply to his confession but simply gazed at him. Content with the silence, Ambrose lightly stroked her cheek and waited.
Daphne’s eyes closed and she sighed. Whatever it was she wished to discuss was weighty, for the woman rarely skirted around topics. There wasn’t any rush. He had no intention of leaving any time soon. When she removed her hand from his wrist he pulled back and Daphne shifted into an upright position. She patted the empty space next to her on the settee and he rose to sit next to her.
Face to face, Daphne asked, “Did you find my behavior at the Archbroke’s abhorrent?”
He blinked at her and shook his head. He must have misheard Daphne’s question. “As I said before, I’m a dolt, my dear. Why would I think that?”
“For three months after our interlude you distanced yourself, as if you wished it had never occurred.”
It was time for him to explain his actions, except no words came forth.
Daphne rose to her feet.
He stood up and reached for her, holding her by her upper arms “I’m not only a dolt, I have utterly no clue as to…” He let go of her and bowed his head. “I’m the opposite of a rake.”
Daphne stepped closer and wrapped her arms about his waist. She pressed her cheek to his chest. “I’m not certain why you view that as a negative. You not being a rake is one of the reasons I love you.”
His hands fell to his side momentarily as a wave of relief rolled through Ambrose. He then wrapped his arms about her and held her tight. Daphne had uttered the three words he needed the most. “Did you just say you love me?”
Her cheek slid up and down his chest as she said, “I did.”
Ambrose pressed his lips to the top of her head and waited her confession to fully sink in. Daphne loved him. He pulled back and said, “Lady Daphne Wilcock, I love you too.”
She smiled up at him. “I’m glad we are in agreement.”
He returned her smile and asked, “Does this mean you agree to marry me?”
“It does.”
He bent down to rest his forehead against hers and confessed, “I promise to love you and make you the happiest woman alive.”
Daphne wound her arms around his neck and the minx crushed her sweet lips to his. Hugging her closer, he ran his hand up her back until he could cradle the back of her head. His fingers woven through her thick locks that hung loose, Ambrose reflected upon how lucky he was to have the love of this courageous, bold woman.
Kissing Daphne was exhilarating, but when she shifted her weight and her thigh grazed against his hard cock, the frisson caused him to pull back. Fear he’d muck up the wonderful exchange prevented him from pulling her back into his arms and lingering over her delicious lips.
“What’s the matter?” Daphne asked.
