Page 42 of Seven Swans a Swimming

“And so, I wrote a letter for my father, but I did not post it,” Arabella said, emphasizing the last few words. “And between writing that letter and returning to my room, Nathaniel and I had…had an encounter. By the lakeside, as we watched the swans.”

Heat rushed to her cheeks as Arabella remembered that moment. The first conversation they had had which had been open; when Nathaniel had revealed his fears about their arranged marriage; when they had discussed the swans, the story of how they had found each other; and their very first kiss…

“Are you prepared, Arabella, for what might happen if you do seduce me?”

“And when I returned to my suite, I had absolutely no thoughts of sending that letter to my father—in truth, I had entirely forgotten I had written it,” admitted Arabella, a shiver of pleasure rushing through her body at the mere recollection of the delicious kiss. “It was posted on my behalf, however, so I bear the responsibility for leaving it out.”

“But then,” said Lady Cartier, “you did ask your father to end the arrangement!”

She needed to make it clear to them, could not permit them to think she had any doubts now.

“Lord and Lady Cartier, I…I love your son,” Arabella said quietly, not looking away from Nathaniel’s gaze. He stared, unblinking, back at her. “I love him. I love Nathaniel, and because of, not in spite of the way that he cares for birds and animals. I love how that speaks of his qualities of tender care, and scientific curiosity, and a desire to do good in the world. How…how could I not love him?”

She hoped Nathaniel understood her. Did he? Did Nathaniel see the devotion in her face? Could he hear it in her words?

For Arabella knew if she was not able to convince them, all three of them, that her words were true, then the arranged marriage she had been irritated by only a few weeks ago would be taken from her—and it would be as a death to lose him.

“Well!” Lord Cartier rose to his feet. “I think this is something that can be made right, Miss Fitzroy, if you are determined to have him.”

Arabella’s heart leapt. “You…you do?”

“It takes a special lady to see our son in that light,” said Lady Cartier, rising to her feet as she spoke, not unkindly. “Come, Cartier. Let us leave these two—we have a letter to write to Mr. Fitzroy, and I believe it will take the efforts of both of us.”

Arabella did not look around as they left the breakfast room, Lord Cartier rather slamming the door behind them. She was far too interested in Nathaniel.

He was still seated, still had her hand in his, and was still looking at her; but there was silence on his lips. He said nothing, and Arabella stood there, feeling tension rise in her neck, painfully sparking across her head, as she felt the weight of the moment.

After her declarations of love and admiration for him…he had said nothing. Was Nathaniel truly hurt by her father’s letter, by the letter which she had written which had been sent to him at Chalcroft, even if she had not intended it?

Was there too much hurt there? Would Nathaniel find it impossible to forgive her, impossible to see past the pain she had caused?

Was—and the thought seared through her heart painfully, burning it, contracting it—the marriage planned between them at an end, despite his parents’ wishes to reinstate it?

Despite her love of him?

“Do…do you really mean that?”

Arabella blinked. She could not think what he meant, but there was a look of desperation on Nathaniel’s face, as though he needed to know the truth before he could even think of the future.

“What do you mean?” Arabella whispered.

She had intended so speak more strongly, but she could not. All the breath had been taken out of her by her defense of Nathaniel to his parents.

In a rush, Nathaniel rose from his seat, pulled Arabella’s hand, and twisted her around as she stumbled forward. Before she knew it, Arabella was pressed up against the wall of the breakfast room, Nathaniel’s hands on either side of her as he leaned against the wall, against her, breathing heavily.

“I need to know,” he growled, light blue eyes not leaving hers. “I need to know if you meant it. What you said about me. About how you…you admired me. About how you loved me.”

Arabella’s heart was fluttering painfully, but it quickened as she saw what he was asking.

Nathaniel needed to hear it again, hear it when they were alone, when they could be truly open. He doubted himself, even now, doubted that anyone could care for him.

“I cannot believe it,” Nathaniel said jerkily, removing one hand from the wall to cup her cheek, to stroke her face, his fingers brushing across her lips. “That a woman like you—so beautiful, so elegant, so thoughtful, far quicker than I had ever imagined, far wittier than anyone I have ever met…that a woman like you could look at me, and l-love me…”

“I love you, Nathaniel,” Arabella whispered, gazing deep into his eyes. “I love you, for all of you. For the gentleman with a title, for the man in the smock who cares for swans, for the delicious man who took me to his bed—”

By that point, the temptation was too much for both of them and Nathaniel crushed his lips against hers, worshipping her mouth, teasing pleasure from her that made Arabella shiver against the wall, made her cling to him.

Nathaniel broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against hers. “I…I never thought I would be so desperate to hear those words.”

---