A Duke By Any Other Name

Chapter Eight

W ords failed him. This couldn’t be the end.

Owen stood frozen, his chest tightening as her words stabbed holes through his heart. Was this how she had felt when he had rejected her confession years ago? The thought twisted inside him. She wanted to spare both of them misery, but walking away would not accomplish that. Not for him. He’d hurt her once. More, it seemed, than he could fathom. Now she was only protecting her heart—from him.

Christ.

Was he truly unforgivably too late? Had he been so blind to his own damn heart? Was the gulf between them really so insurmountable?

Bile rose in his throat, but he swallowed it down.

By God, no!

This was not how it ended between them.

He snatched up the quilt, wrapping it around his waist, and closed the distance between them, stepping close until their bodies were almost touching. “Very well, love, walk away if that is something you must do.”

A small line appeared between her brows, and her lips pursed, yet her gaze remained admirably steady on his.

That steady gaze—it had always been her strength, the way she could face him, even when it might be deuced hard for her.

“But know that I shall follow you right on your heels.”

She blinked, bewilderment flashing across her face. “What?”

Owen didn’t hesitate. He fell to his knees, clutching his chest. “I love you, Thalia. I’ve been a damnable fool, yes, and I deserve your ire, I deserve you walking away from me, but I still love you.”

“Owen!”

This moment would only arrive once. He pressed on. “And if you don’t believe me, I will prove my love for you until you do believe it, until it’s the only truth that matters. I will chase you. Even if you don’t allow me to catch you, I will chase you for the rest of my life. If nothing else, just allow me to do that. What I won’t do is give you up. In this lifetime and all the others to follow, I only love you.”

Thalia stood silent for a moment, and then—suddenly—she erupted in laughter. It wasn’t the awkward giggle of someone trying to hide their discomfort. No, it was bold—unrestrained. It echoed through the room, unfiltered and unrefined, much like the emotions pulsing through his veins.

Owen’s stomach churned, his heart plummeting along with it. Was she laughing because she was rejecting him? Was she mocking him? Or perhaps, was she laughing in disbelief?

“You’re laughing at me.” His voice was tight, almost bitter, hopelessness seeping into his words as they slipped from his mouth. “I’ll chase you even if you laugh at me.”

“Ah, Owen,” she clutched her throat as her laughter began to fade. “You truly are... something else.”

“You’re mocking me.”

She shook her head. “I’m really not. I just never thought . . . believed . . .”

“That I’d confess?”

“Not like this.” She kneeled before him, her expression glowing. “I never thought I’d ever be able to bring you to your knees, though I dreamed about it. But in my dreams, it was never because of a confession.”

Owen grunted, but a faint smile tugged at his lips. “You probably had some form of revenge in mind, and I was begging for mercy.”

“Something like that.” She cocked her head, her gaze probing his. “Do you really mean it? You love me?”

“I do,” Owen said, his heart slowly resuming its natural pace. “Just so you know, the regret of discovering the depth of my denial is like a thousand nails stabbing into my body.”

Her smile softened, and she flung her arms around his neck. “Then I shan’t punish you further.”

“But...” He swallowed, the words thick in his throat, the final hurdle before him. He wrapped her into a tight embrace. “Will you marry me?”

She suddenly laughed again, the sound warm and full of joy. “ I’ll have no husband if you be not he .”

“Can you stop already with the Shakespeare? Don’t tell me you came to this village for that reason. Larden practically screams out to be a setting for one of his plays.”

She raised an eyebrow, a playful gleam in her eye. “Aren’t you my Orlando?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll be whoever you want.”

“As I like it, Duke.”

“I’ll be whoever you want.”

“As I like it, Duke.”

*

Her dreams had come true.

Thalia could hardly believe it. The words he’d spoken, the vow he’d made to chase her for the rest of his life, had been a confession she never thought she’d hear from him. She hadn’t needed to take the leap again, after all. He had taken it for her.

Now, she found herself hoisted onto the back of his horse, baby fox in her arms, Owen determined to get them back to London to his residence as soon as possible. She could feel the heat of his chest against her back as he settled behind her, his arms wrapping around her as he took hold of the reins.

“We won’t get in trouble for keeping the fox?”

Thalia shook her head. “The villagers won’t want to raise it—they’ll fear it’ll catch their poultry later on.” She paused. “But are you sure it’s all right to leave your friends behind?” Thalia asked, glancing over her shoulder at him.

“We left them a note,” Owen replied, the faintest smile tugging at his lips.

“Yes, but is that enough?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “What are you running away from?”

He sighed dramatically. “If you must know, sharp tongues and cutting remarks.”

“From your friends?” She raised an eyebrow, incredulous.

He gave a mock shudder. “You have no idea how Leeds and Harriet will tease me for being a fool in love.”

“A fool, really?”

He leaned a little closer, as if to share a secret. “All men in love are fools.”

Thalia jabbed him with her elbow. “Then what about women in love?”

“Angels.”

She snorted in disbelief. “Honestly, Owen, love is not a form of suffering, even for men.”

“Oh, but it is,” he said simply.

“How so?” Thalia asked, unsurprised by his response but ready to challenge this man’s ridiculous beliefs.

“Just look at me.” He nuzzled her cheek. “You are in my arms, and already I’m missing you terribly. Have I truly joined the ranks of those who revel in their suffering?”

“You are impossible.” Thalia rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She couldn’t believe she was marrying a man with such a theatrical disposition—but then, that was exactly why she loved him.

Her eyes widened. She hadn’t actually told him yet!

“I love you,” she blurted immediately.

“I know,” Owen replied, his voice warm and certain. He kissed her cheek.

He knew ? “Yes, truly impossible,” she muttered under her breath, half in awe of him, half in disbelief at herself.

His chin suddenly rested on her shoulder. “Don’t you know, love? A scoff tells me you love me. A jab in my ribs tells me you love me. A glare tells me you love me.”

She gritted her teeth, feigning frustration. “All right! I understand! Rogue!”

He chuckled, his laugh vibrating through her. A lovely feeling.

“I might believe love is for fools,” he said with a soft sigh, “but I’ve also discovered it’s incomparably delightful. So long as we put Larden and Leeds behind us. At least for the time being.”

Thalia shook her head, refusing to argue with him. Honestly, she was just as eager to reach London, where they could marry as soon as possible. All the rest—Larden, Leeds, whatever else—could wait. “Then quit tarrying,” she said with an urgent edge to her voice. “Let’s go!”

He laughed. “As you like it, Duchess.”

The End