Page 103 of A Night of Forever
His own heart burst open at her words. She wasn’t aware he knew she’d heard what Victoria had said. She knew he’d been Mademoiselle Boldier’s slave. And yet she was prepared to marry him without his telling her.
She must truly trust him. Truly love him.
The realization humbled him, and brought him to his knees, quite literally. He knelt on the floor, still holding her hand, and let himself believe.
“You’ve been the brave one,” he said. “From the moment we met. You were a little afraid of me to begin with, I think, but you had the courage to trust me. You saw something in me that I could not see myself, and believed in it. You knew how dangerous it would be to become involved in the hunt for Victoria, yet you still agreed to do so, because you wanted to help your friends and find the answers concerning your father’s death.”
Her smile was pure confidence. “I knew you’d never let anything happen to me.”
Never let anything happen to her? She lay in bed, pale and wounded, with a scar on her cheek that together with the scar from Dufort’s bullet would be a constant reminder of how badly he had failed to keep her safe. “That didn’t work out so well. I almost got you killed—several times.”
She smiled. “From where I’m lying, it seems you did a good job of saving me.”
God, he loved her. “I’d have gladly taken a bullet for you.” He’d expected to do just that when Victoria had aimed her pistol at him, and he was grateful to have had the chance to protect his beloved Isobel. “Gladly.”
“I know,” she said. “I can tell from the look on your face that seeing me like this pains you more than it pains me.” Obviously his disbelief also registered on his face, because she gurgled with laughter “All right. Perhaps not as much as it pains me.”
He couldn’t help it. He had to kiss her. He rose from his knees, leaned over her bed, and took her mouth with his. Gentle. Restrained. Which changed into something less gentle and restrained when his naughty Isobel thrust her tongue deep into his mouth.
Conscious of her injury and the fact she truly did believe him to be an honorable gentleman, he broke the kiss, drew back, and lowered himself once more to his knees, still holding her hand.
“Stop distracting me,” he growled, only partially teasing. “I’m trying to be the brave one now.”
Her laugh was tender. “You don’t need to prove how brave you are, Arend. I already know. You’re here with me, trying so hard to be the man you think I want you to be. Yet I love you just the way you are.”
“I want to be your perfect man.” It was true. Terrifyingly true.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she whispered. “No one is perfect.”
“You are.”
“If you think that,” she said, suddenly tart, “you’re going to be sorely disappointed. I have many faults. I’m headstrong. I’m nosy—”
She certainly was. “You’re perfect for me.”
Just do it. Get it over with and have faith that she loves you enough.
“Seven years ago,” he said, speaking fast, needing to get it out, get it over with, “I went to France. I went in part to find out what had become of my family’s home and in part to see if I could set up some form of trading company. I spoke French, knew good brandy when I tasted it and fine silk when I touched it. I thought Maitland might help me set up a distributorship in England.”
She nodded, eyes alive with interest. “It sounds like a good plan.”
“Perhaps it would have been had there not been so many French exiles there, all with the same plan.” He looked down at her hand in his. “I soon ran out of money and was too proud to ask Maitland for help, to admit I had failed. I had no money to get home.”
Isobel had never known hardship. She could hardly understand the concept of not having any money. But she did know that if she found herself without coin, her pride would stop her asking for charity. She’d find some way to work for the money.
“A woman—” Arend’s voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “A woman,” he said again, “with money and power offered to introduce me to her contacts and to help set up my business.”
His fingers tightened on hers. “At first she did introduce me to men who could provide product to trade and help set up trade routes. Then her help slowed.” His cheeks turned deep red. “She convinced me these things took time, and as I was living in her comfortable Paris home, I decided to be patient.”
“You were lovers?” Of course they had been. How else would a woman keep such a man pliant?
He inclined his head. “She was a beautiful woman. Older than me, perhaps in her early thirties, she was the most hypnotizing creature I’d ever met. Clever, witty, intelligent, and, yes, beautiful.” He could not look her in the eye. “On the outside.”
Isobel guessed immediately what was coming. Now that she understood how evil people could be, she suspected that this woman had used Arend in vile ways. She didn’t really want to know how. It wasn’t important. “She used her beauty to control and manipulate you. There is no shame in that.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed once, twice, three times. “The things I did because of her—”
“I don’t need to know every detail, my darling.” His haunted face ripped her apart. If the scheming witch had been in the room at that moment, Isobel would have made her sorry she’d ever been born. “I can guess.”
