Chapter 22 #2
“You may laugh if you like,” he said. “You had gone from a lass to a young woman in just a few months. Of course, I had known many beautiful women. Enough to know that beauty is nothing without character behind it. But you had that, didn’t you?
All the qualities I had known in other ladies were combined in you.
I was taken by you straightaway, though I refused to acknowledge it.
” He laughed. “To be honest, you frightened the hell out of me.”
Fiona recalled Richard’s words at St. Andrew’s the previous month. “I’ve heard I do that.”
“As for your...er, declaration...” Harry winced apologetically at her blush.
“I hadn’t believed your feelings were deep and true, and well, to be frank, looking back, the possibility that they were terrified me even more.
I was a fool, Fiona. Short-sighted and full of denial.
I’ve apologized for it and I shan’t do it again.
All I can say is that the timing was against us. ”
She stared silently through the window, absorbing everything he’d told her. He wanted to marry but only for love or the potential for more and had made repeated declarations of his intention to marry her. It fell to reason then that Harry loved her.
He loved her, her heart sang.
Or, her more analytical mind argued, only that he might.
“Fiona?”
She blinked and found him watching her expectantly. Clearly, he was expecting a response, some reaction to his tale and his proposal...No, he hadn’t even really proposed, had he?
“So, the timing is good for you now?” she asked evasively. “How convenient that I arrived in London just in time.”
Instead of being upset, Aylesbury had the gall to laugh then.
“Don’t worry, I would have come about sooner rather than later.
Perhaps it might have been later, I regret to say,” he sobered as he spoke.
“I don’t think I’ll ever truly accept Piper’s disappearance as a permanent thing.
I would have continued to look for her, sacrificing my future to save hers if you hadn’t come along again. ”
And she could forgive him that, Fiona realized. She could even forgive his reasoning for all the times he had cut her short in Edinburgh if avoiding an entanglement with her had been his noble purpose. If their flirtation had indeed tempted him to act in a way he would consider dishonorable.
As for the rest of it, she wasn’t certain whether to believe Harry or not. Perhaps because she had been so badly burned by him before, she had to wonder if it was all just flim-flam. A tall tale to gain forgiveness.
Darting a glance back at him, she found him leaning back against the corner of the gondola, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched her. Turning away again, she stared sightlessly out over the city.
“Have you forgiven me then?”
She looked back with a frown. While she might forgive him for acting on his honor, she hadn’t forgiven him completely for the devastating heartbreak he had served her. Perhaps she never would.
“No, Harry. Not entirely.”
Aylesbury lifted a brow. “Not entirely? Dash it, woman, you can’t still be angry with me?”
Since anger was the only thing standing between her and the part of her that wanted nothing more than to throw herself in his arms, yes, she could. For her own well-being, she was counting on that anger and the wee piece of her that hated him still—or wanted to hate him—to hold firm.
“Yes, I can. There is a part of me that is still furious with you. And I want to be angry. I need to be, and I won’t let you take that away from me.”
“Bugger it all to hell, Fiona,” he ground out, running a hand through his hair. It was a wonder he hadn’t gone bald yet from the constant temptation she roused in him to pull it out by the roots. “Are you going to stay angry with me for the rest of our lives then?”
“Most likely.”
He cursed soundly, his eyes blazing with frustration as he pinned her with a hot stare. In swift strides, he crossed the short distance he had put between them until she was backed into the corner, and he was just inches away.
“I can live with that.”
With a gasp, her lips parted beneath his as Harry crushed her in his embrace and devoured her with a kiss filled with all the frustration she knew she stoked in him.
She savored it, surrendered to it as they reached new heights.
At the apex of their wild ride, surrounded by nothing but blue skies, he lifted her off her feet and backed her against the glass wall hard enough to rock their carriage, but this was nothing compared to the wild swing of her emotions.
As much as she wanted to hate, wanted anger to save herself, there was simply no defense tough enough to deflect the feelings he roused in her.
Because they weren’t fragile or easily broken.
They were years old, familiar. Taken out of the mothballs her hurt and anger had packed them in and then shaken off again, they were as good as new.
She gave herself over to his kiss, reveling in the stroke of his tongue across hers.
Taking his bottom lips between her teeth, she nipped lightly, giggling as he swore and lifted his head.
His blue eyes were dark and turbulent, brimming with desire as he stroked his knuckles across her cheek, though he smiled as well. This time, Fiona succumbed to its power and let herself melt against him with a smile that deepened her dimples.
The descending Ferris wheel jerked to a halt, and the momentum sent the car swinging again. Harry held her steady, secure in his arms.
“Fiona, my darling girl,” he whispered, brushing his lips over hers. “Don’t you see how perfect we are for one another? Even when you are at your most irascible, I want you still.”
“Oh, Harry.” She parted her lips, inviting him to kiss her again. “I want to...”
Heart pounding, she was tempted to tell him everything.
Every thought, every feeling. To confess it all.
But she was entirely too aware that he hadn’t said as much to her.
He’d spoken of courting and marriage. Of lust and wanting and regrets.
But he hadn’t said that he loved her, and she would be damned if she’d be the one to say it. ..again.
He frowned as she trailed off, his brow raised expectantly, but she didn’t continue. “You want to what?” he prompted. “Forgive me? Marry me? What?”
Fiona wavered uncertainly between the faith he inspired and the mistrust that had plagued her for so long. “I want to get off this bloody Ferris wheel.”
As if the powers that be had heard the quiet desperation in her heart, the Great Wheel ground into motion one last time and finished their descent.
The final jolt rocked the carriage hard, nearly setting her off her feet.
Harry didn’t come to steady her this time but retained his position in the corner, watching her moodily as she righted herself.
“Your wish is granted.”
If only they all could be granted so easily.