Page 120 of The Duchess Trap
The girl beamed. “Would you like one too?”
“I should be much obliged to you for making me such a treasure,” he said, glancing at Catherine.
Mary giggled, nodding, then ran off again with the others, laughter fading into the sound of the wind.
When they were gone, silence fell once more.
“They adore you,” Duncan said quietly.
“They trust me,” she corrected. “As I once trusted you.”
Duncan drew in a long, slow breath. “Catherine,” he said at last, his voice low but carrying. “I owe you an apology. For all of it.”
She didn’t move, though her heart gave a sharp, unbidden flutter. “An apology,” she repeated, her tone measured. “For what, exactly?”
“For withdrawing. For turning what we had into something cold when it never should have been. I know you think I planned to leave you. I remember my words in that locked room just as well as you do. And—when I said those things…there…I spoke rashly. I was a man who…well, let’s just say I was a different man then than I am now.”
He took a careful step forward, not closing the distance entirely, as if aware of how fragile the moment was.
Catherine said nothing.
He went on, his words quiet but steady now, each one deliberate. “You’ve done what no one else ever has. You’ve made me want to be better. To deserve what I have. I admire your strength, your stubbornness, Your Grace. I admire the way you fight for people who can’t fight for themselves. And I can’t bear the thought of losing you again.”
The faintest tremor passed through her fingers. She looked at him then, at the exhaustion in his face, the faint bruise along his jaw from a fight she hadn’t yet asked about, and the quiet sincerity in his eyes.
He took one more step closer. “I’ve been wrong in ways I can’t excuse. But the worst thing I’ve done so far is allow you to think for even one second that I did not love you. Because I do. I love you most dearly.”
Catherine’s breath caught. A few of the children, who had been pretending not to watch from behind the garden hedge, gasped in delight.
Duncan’s mouth lifted faintly. “Apparently, I’ve chosen my audience poorly,” he murmured, glancing toward them.
“Keep talking,” one of the boys whispered loudly, and a ripple of laughter ran through the group.
Catherine blinked back sudden tears. “You shouldn’t say things you do not want them to overhear,” she said softly, though her voice lacked conviction.
“I do not mind if they hear that part,” he returned, gaze unwavering. “It’s the truest thing I’ve ever said.”
Her lips parted, but no words came.
A soft collectiveawwrose from the hedgerow. Catherine turned to see more children gathered.
“See, I told you!” Thomas said proudly. “They were never really fighting.”
Catherine flushed, torn between laughter and tears. “Thomas?—”
“Kiss her!” one of the younger girls shouted suddenly. “Go on, Your Grace!”
Laughter rippled through the group, bright and irreverent. Catherine turned back to Duncan.
He reached her in two strides.
“Your audience insists,” he said softly.
Before she could reply, he wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her against him. Her gasp caught in her throat as he kissed her, and the world fell away.
When they parted, her eyes were wet, and his forehead rested against hers.
“Catherine,” he murmured, his voice rough yet reverent. “I love you.”
