| |
Until the moment Hudson asked her the question, he didn’t know how right it would feel. But now the question had been uttered, he’d never, ever take it back.
He didn’t know what he had expected. Emmeline to throw her arms about his neck? To laugh? To smile?
Instead, she frowned.
He lifted a hand and smoothed his fingers over her brow. “Why are you frowning?”
She exhaled. “I don’t want to enter a marriage of convenience,” she said. “I could have had one of those back home.”
There would be nothing convenient in any of this, but that’s not what she meant. His fingers lingered on her face, moving to her cheek, then to her jaw. “There will be very little peace and quiet here, and the children will still want you with them a lot, even if we do hire another governess. Is that what has you worried? The busy nature of Branhall?”
“No.”
Her face had flushed. Was she uncomfortable about something? Embarrassed?
“Is it my injury?” he said. “Do you hate to think of marrying a man who will slow you down?”
Her cheeks dimpled. “You are not such a cripple as you think. You haven’t limped once this morning.”
She’d noticed. This made him pleased. “My nightly wanderings, then. My mind that won’t rest, that won’t let go of the things I’ve seen in the navy?”
The true compassion in her eyes felt far from pity, and he appreciated that. And then he understood. “Ah.” He rested his hand on her shoulder, finding her skin warm and smooth. “You want a declaration of devotion, do you?”
Her face pinked more, and he knew he’d figured it out.
“Then let me be forthright with you,” he said in a slow voice, “at the risk of a certain woman not returning the same feelings.”
Her lips quirked, and it took quite a bit of willpower not to kiss her at that moment.
“I don’t want to marry you because I’m looking for a step-aunt to my niece and nephew,” he said. “I want to marry you because I don’t want to face the emptiness that I’ll surely feel the moment you leave Branhall.”
“That’s not for months—” she started.
His fingers moved to her lips. “Let me finish, angel.”
That effectively stopped her speech.
“I’m in love with you, Emmeline,” he whispered.
“Because I helped your ankle?”
He chuckled. “No. Yes. That and much more. I love your freckles.” He leaned forward then and pressed a soft kiss on her temple. But he didn’t draw back. Instead, he continued whispering. “I love your dimples.” He then proceeded to place a kiss over one of her dimples. “I love your eyes.”
Her eyes fluttered shut, and she seemed to melt against him. He took that as a good omen.
Next, he placed a kiss over each of her closed eyelids. Then he lifted both hands to cradle her face. “I love how the children love you, and how we now have more toy soldiers and wooden dolls than any household in England. But mostly, I love your heart,” he said.
Her gaze was wide, her lips parted in surprise.
It was time to ask the real question. “Do you think, Emmeline, that you could love me too? Someday?”
The smile spreading on her face rivaled the rising sun. “It’s too late, Captain Ridout, I already do.”
“Does that mean you’ll marry me?” he rasped, because emotion was threatening to get the better of him.
Her beautiful face glowed. “Yes.”
Hudson kissed her then. How could he not? The early morning sun had cast its sparkling web across the garden, and the birds had begun their first song of the day. In short, it was a fine moment to kiss the woman he loved and who loved him back.
He slid his arms about her and pulled her close, tasting her at last. She was a novice at kissing, that much was clear, but future possibilities only made his heart pound harder. He shouldn’t have been surprised that she tasted sweet, of honey and sugar and kindness. And when she finally wrapped her arms about his neck and kissed him back with her whole heart, he learned what every man in love knew. That paradise could be found on earth.
Heather B. Moore is a USA Today bestselling author. She writes historical thrillers under the pen name H.B. Moore; her latest are The Killing Curse and Breaking Jess. Under the name Heather B. Moore, she writes romance and women’s fiction; her latest include the Pine Valley Novels. Under pen name Jane Redd, she writes the young adult speculative Solstice series, including her latest release Mistress Grim. Heather is represented by Dystel, Goderich & Bourret.
Join Heather’s email list: hbmoore.com/contact
Website: HBMoore.com
Facebook: Fans of H. B. Moore
Blog: MyWritersLair.blogspot.com
Twitter: @HeatherBMoore
Instagram: @AuthorHBMoore