Page 40 of The Moonstone Marquess
He gave a curt laugh. “Sounds nice.”
A light mist hovered across the edge of the water, but the day was already turning warm and bright. There were more clouds in the sky than yesterday, but they were soft tufts of white, not the sort that brought on rain. The air held only the slightest trace of moisture as it swirled around them.
She took his hand in both of hers. “What I did to you a moment ago was not nice at all. You were happy, and I did not need to comment on it. Forgive me?”
He shook his head. “There is nothing to forgive. I was happy and still am. Being with you and the girls fills my empty heart. It is a new feeling for me, and I like it. The realization overwhelmed me for a moment.”
“It is a nice feeling, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” He emitted a ragged breath. “I want this. I want you and I want the girls.” He paused a moment and chuckled. “I suppose my brother will want them back, since they are his, after all.”
She laughed as she nodded. “I would expect so. But I know what you mean. They are so lovely. Chloe and I are having such a good time with them. I can see why you do not want to give them up. We don’t either. Your brother and his Lady Charlotte are very fortunate parents.”
“Yes, and my brother is also the perfect sort of father who appreciates all he has. He’s a good husband, too. His wife and those girls know he loves them with all his heart.”
She still had light hold of his hand. “This is how I would want my marriage to be.”
He nodded. “I know. You want a love that lasts forever.”
“Yes, and that’s just it, Cormac. True love does last. But I can see you don’t believe it yet.”
“I’m trying, Phoebe. I promise you, I am. Meanwhile, I am left with a rabble at my house and cannot think straight while they are about. I want to kick them all out, including Lord Crawford, but I must honor my promise to his brother. I will not break my word.”
He slipped his hand out of hers and then wrapped his arm around her waist while he gazed across the water. “Lord Crawford and I had a good talk earlier yesterday, but by evening he was back to drunken revels with his friends. I was so disappointed in him. Yet how can I be angry when I was far worse? Not only before I lost my arm but for months afterward. I cannot expect miracles in a day.”
“Did you join in?”
He cast her a wry look. “What do you think?”
“Well, since your eyes are clear, your shirt buttoned, and you do not reek of stale spirits, I would venture to guess that you did not partake. The more important question is, would I believe you if you had come here looking wretched? If you gave me your oath that you had not participated, would this have been good enough for me?”
He nodded. “I know I will never win you until you trust me. But I am a man of my word. Whatever other faults I may have, being a liar is not one of them.”
She did not want to think about this matter now, since it was too soon for her to form any conclusions, so she gave him a playful poke in the stomach. “All well and good, but do not ask me to marry you again. Just because you claim not to be a liar does not make you perfect. I think we still have to work through arrogance, stubbornness, and insufferableness.”
“Is that even a word?”
“Insufferableness? I’m sure it is. If you look up the meaning, it will have your name beside it. ‘Insufferableness…behaving like Cormac Stockwell. Someone who is as profoundly irritating as Cormac Stockwell.’”
He laughed and drew her up against him. “Are the girls watching us?”
She gasped. “Yes, their faces are squashed to the glass, so you had better behave yourself.”
“But then I would not be me. Someone who is profoundly irritating,” he teased, tossing her words back at her. “I am going to kiss you, Phoebe Killigrew.”
“Why tell me if you are intent on doing it anyway?”
“To give you the chance to run away if you do not want my kiss.”
She groaned. “See, you are the very definition of insufferableness.”
“And you, my sweet pigeon, did not run away when you had the chance. Admit it, Phoebe. You like me.”
He brought his mouth down on hers, and she was lost. His lips felt so good, and he seemed to know just how to press them to hers. Not in a harsh or crushing manner, but in a firm, possessively melting way.
And his body.
Blessed Mother.
