Page 104 of In Need of a Duke
“Charlotte, please open up. I need to see you’ve arrived safely.”
He heard a chair scrape back against the wooden floors inside. “Ian?”
“Please, Charlotte. Don’t run away. Open the door and let us talk. Were you hurt?”
“Go away,” she shot back. “I have nothing more to say. You’ve proven you can’t listen, and I don’t trust you.”
“But you cannot leave as you did. I need?—”
“I am fine. I will write to you once I reach London. I told the footman as much.”
Ian spun and slid down the door, collapsing onto the floor, floodedwith relief. Yet, he couldn’t ignore the pain in his chest, like someone was squeezing his heart, that he lost Charlotte.
“I can’t… you…”
The door cracked open. Ian spun onto his knees, gazing up as Charlotte poked her head out.
“You look well enough,” he said, half reassuring himself that she had arrived at the inn without any grave injuries.
“Contrary to what you believe, I am an excellent horsewoman, Duke. I will not break my neck every time I…” She trailed off, wiping her eyes. “Come in before someone sees you.”
“I love you,” he shot out, still on his knees. He didn’t care about anyone else. “I love you, and I would have ridden straight to London to tell you if it meant I could see you again. I’ve loved you since that night I saw you across the ballroom and you slipped your hand into mine because, Lottie, I knew then what love felt like. I never rid you from my heart, never rid you from my mind. And I knew, without any trace of doubt when I rode back with you in my arms to Stonehurst this winter, I would love you until my dying day, and then whatever lies beyond. My heart has been and is yours, always, unconditionally.”
Charlotte opened the door wider, peeking into the hallway and placing her hand on his cheek. “Come inside.”
He pressed against her palm, starved for her touch. Desperate.
Slowly, he rose to his feet and followed her inside, shutting the door quietly behind him. Charlotte stood before him in the small, rented room, playing with the end of her plait in her fingers, a crease deepening between her brows.
“I shouldn’t have left as I did. Still, I wish to continue on alone. I think it’s best if we spend some time apart.”
He scratched the back of his neck, glancing up toward the ceiling. “Christ, Lottie. Please, hear me out.” He stretched out his hand toward her, but she recoiled.
Ian pleaded, “I love you,” he said, “and I may always say the wrong thing. I was damned selfish at the start, but I love you, and that is the only thing I know in this world. That, and I know you love me.”
“Did you come back for an heir or for me, Ian?”
“I stayed for you.”
“And if your mother hadn’t passed away in Italy before you returned? Would you have remained traveling, avoiding me and this grand love you have spun up in your head.”
He shook his head, taking another step forward. Charlotte remained, her shoulders turned away as if he had lost her already, and perhaps he had. “It’s not spun up. It’s not something new for me, Lottie. It never was.”
She held up her hand, stemming his words. It trembled, and Ian felt the lastwhooshof air leave his lungs.
“I am having a hard time reconciling your love for me and your behavior. You cannot love me in slivers, Ian. It is not enough. I deserve to be seen. I know that now, and I can’t accept?—”
It was more than that. It was that Ian wasn’t enough.
He choked back on his tears, taking another step forward.
“I’ll grant you the divorce.”
She whimpered, drawing back from him, pulling her hand back to her side. “What?”
“I asked for you to stay with me through the summer. But I don’t just want this summer, I want all your summers. I want to watch you when you’re an old woman in the garden tending bees under the sun and hear that laugh of yours when I’m stung because I can’t wait to be with you, and I’m too stubborn to stay back. I love you with everything I possess, and if that is still not enough, then I will let you go because I love you, Charlotte. I love you. Not the idea of you, not because you are my duchess.You.”
Ian used the heel of his hand to wipe at his face.
