Page 53 of The Moonstone Marquess
“Oh, heavens. You really don’t want me to do that.” Her eyes glittered with mirth. “Perhaps tomorrow, when Imogen and Ella can join in. We might even coax you to sing along with us.”
“Perish the thought.” He groaned. “You do not want my croaking to mess up your song.”
“I would not be surprised if you had a magnificent voice. But I suppose our amusements are too tame for you.”
“No, Phoebe. Your company is a relief for me. I am so tired of the path I’ve been on for too many years now. I don’t regret my past, nor will I make apologies for my rakehell ways. But it is time to move on.”
“You do realize your decision is only a few days old.”
“No, it was three years in the making.”
“Well, we shall see how long it will last before you decide to unmake it.” They walked inside and climbed the stairs to look in on the girls, who were sitting up in their beds. Chloe had just finished reading them a story about a talking frog.
“Uncle Cormac!” Imogen squealed.
“Uncle Cormac!” Ella cried out at the same time.
“How are my ducklings?” He sat at the edge of Ella’s bed. Imogen immediately scrambled out of hers and clambered onto his lap. He kissed her on the forehead. “I heard you had a fun afternoon of drawing.”
The girls began to chatter at him, each one eager to be the first to tell him what they had drawn. Chloe brought their pictures over to him. They were hardly more than stick figures, but he was touched to see how prominently they’d included him in each drawing—and actually depicted him as smiling.
They had also drawn themselves and Phoebe beside him.
Yes, it felt right that she should be shown standing alongside him. She did make him smile.
Even his little ducklings saw they were meant to be together. Indeed, they saw everything so clearly through their innocent eyes.
He kissed them each good night, gave them a tickle as he tucked them in, and then returned downstairs with Phoebe and Chloe. They had just settled in the parlor when Chloe made an obviously weak excuse and disappeared.
Phoebe sighed and sank onto the sofa. “I should not be left alone with you.”
He took a chair beside her. “Everyone but you already has us paired. I understand your reluctance. You need to trust me.”
“Actually, I do trust you.” She searched his face as though she might find her answers in his eyes. “I am not the problem. You are the one who does not trust your feelings yet. Cormac, true love is not something that lasts a month and then fades. It lasts forever and becomes easier and more certain with each passing day, even through the difficult times.”
“Phoebe…”
“I am not letting go of my heart until you are ready to believe true love is what you feel for me. Just let me know when you are confident this feeling will last a lifetime.” She emitted a ragged sigh, a certain sign he’d disappointed her. “If we were to marry, you have to keep true to your vows. They have to mean something to you when you recite them. Only then will I begin to take your proposal seriously.”
He knew what he felt for her was love, but he wasn’t going to lie to her and make her promises he might not keep. He’d spent most of his life as a scoundrel. What if that part of him won out?
She took a deep breath and cast him a shaky smile. “What would you like to do with the girls tomorrow?” she asked, obviously eager to change the path of their conversation, since talk of love only seemed to upset her.
“I don’t know. Let’s see what the weather holds. We’ve had a string of nice days, so the rain has to arrive sometime soon.” He shrugged and leaned forward. “And now let us speak of something more interesting than the weather.”
She chuckled, and her soft, lilting laugh so easily seeped into his heart. “Dear heaven, are you suggesting the topic is dull?”
“Excruciatingly so.” He smiled warmly.
“Are you also finding your reformed ways dull?”
“No, I like myself much better and don’t mind behaving around you.”
She nibbled her fleshy lower lip, the gesture sending a jolt of heat through him. “Can you see us spending quiet nights together like this?”
He could see hopefulness spring in her eyes. “Yes, Phoebe. I am never bored with you.”
“Nor am I ever bored with you. I like having you around, although I should not admit this to you, for it will swell your head, and you are already too arrogant. Well, perhaps a nicer way of putting it is that you are confident in yourself.”
