Page 109 of Harpy of the Ton
But she merely shook her head.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.
“What for, my love?”
“For losing them.”
He dipped his head and kissed her knuckles. “There’s nothin’ to be sorry for, Bella, love. The ribbons may be gone, but my heart remains. And my heart is—and will always be—yours.”
Her eyes widened at his declaration, but before she could respond, the door opened and Mrs. Colt entered with a tray bearing two glasses filled to the brim with a dark ruby liquid.
“My best port,” she said. “Don’t drink it too quick, mind. It’s best savored and appreciated.”
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Colt,” Lawrence said, glancing at Bella. “I know when something’s deservin’ of being appreciated.”
And when someone deserved to be loved.
He might have spun her a tale tonight, but not everything he said was a lie.
For his heart was—and would always be—hers.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Bella clung toher husband’s arm as they returned home. The moon hung heavy in the sky, casting a cold blue light across the landscape and throwing sharp shadows across the path, where the first signs of frost glistened on the ground, tiny pinpricks of light.
The port, courtesy of Mrs. Colt’s generosity, had warmed her blood when they set off from the inn, but now the chill of the night air penetrated her bones.
They rounded a corner, and the cottage came into view, its whitewashed walls illuminated by the moonlight, stark against the backdrop of the garden. A low, flickering light danced in the parlor window to welcome them home.
Lawrence pushed the door open and led her into the parlor, where the embers of the fire cast a dull orange light across the room. He placed a log on the fire, poking it until sparks ignited at the base.
“Come here.” He pulled her close. “You’re as cold as ice, love. Let me warm you up.”
She relaxed in his arms, drinking in the scent of wood, earth, and smoke on his clothes.
“Better?” he whispered, his breath a warm caress on her forehead.
“Mmm…” She placed her head on his shoulder and sighed. “If only I could stay here forever—in your arms.”
“We’d get nothin’ done if we stood here all day, Bella.”
Didn’t he want to hold her? Why was he such a contradiction—one moment melting her heart with tales of traveling miles to bring her ribbons as a token of his love, and the next rejecting her carefully worded plea to be loved?
If only she could be bold and ask him outright—even if she feared his response.
She withdrew from his embrace and approached the fire, holding out her hands to the warmth.
“Is anything the matter?” he asked.
“I’m tired, that’s all,” she said. “I’ve never eaten that late before—at least, not that I can recall.”
“Then perhaps you should retire.”
“To a cold bed.”
“It’ll soon warm up with an extra blanket or two, Bella—it’s not bothered you before.”
“No,” she said flatly. “According to you,nothing’sbothered me before.”
