Page 43 of Charming the Accidental Suitor
And soon they were alone.
In the dark.
Under the tree.
And he was still holding her hand.
It wasn’t panic that flooded her veins, but it was something close. She wasn’t afraid of him, but…oh drat. She was afraid ofthis. Of the way he made her feel.
It was everything she didn’t want to feel, not when she had decisions to make. He was too tempting by far with his chivalrous offer of marriage. If he asked her again, she wasn’t sure she’d have the strength to say no.
She gave her hand another useless tug.
But it would be selfish and greedy…and all she had to do was think of the look of disappointment she’d see in his eyes eventually to know it would destroy her in the end.
“Let me go,” she finally snapped.
He dropped her hand so suddenly she wondered if he even realized he’d been holding it. Clutching it to her chest, she turned away. “I appreciate your rescue—again.” She rolled her eyes, though no one could see it. “But I find I’m rather tired, so if you please–”
“No.” He moved so he was standing in front of her, and his eyes were darker than the night sky as he gazed down at her. “I need you to listen to me.”
She started to protest.
“Not for long, and if you never wish to see me again after you hear me out, I will respect that. But please…” It was the please that got her. So gruff and filled with emotion. “Please let me speak.”
She couldn’t deny him now. With a jerky nod she waved for him to continue as she shifted closer to the tree, as if she could somehow hide in its shadows.
“I want to talk about what happened under this tree the other night,” he started.
She stiffened instantly and her gaze darted away. “I do not think that is?—”
“Iwantto marry you, Felicity.”
Her eyes returned to his, startled by his intensity. “I know you think you ought to?—”
“The way I feel has nothing to do with what is right or good or dutiful.” He reached for her hand again and this time he pressed it to his chest. “The way I feel is…alive.”
His voice was so raw on that last word, it made her throat thicken with emotion. “W-what do you mean?”
“After my wife died…” He paused. “After she passed away I was heartbroken, and I never wanted to feel that way again. So I…I didn’t.” He wet his lips, but his gaze never left hers. “You know, there was a time when even my closest friends wouldn’t say her name. They walked around me like I was breakable. No one wants to dwell on loss, and so I…”
She squeezed his hand when he faltered, her heart racing and her thoughts whirling.
“And so I pushed those feelings down, and I moved on?—”
“But you didn’t move on,” she said, jumping in rudely because her patience was well and truly spent. “You still love her. I understand.”
He shook his head. “You don’t understand. I do still love her?—”
“And no one will ever replace her, and certainly not someone like me?—”
“Felicity.”
She clamped her lips shut.
“Please,” he said again.
She nodded.
