Chapter 6 #2
Everything made sense. Alaric had believed she was brokenhearted over losing Monsieur Dupont and having to marry him instead.
When in truth, she hadn’t given her former painting instructor any thought at all in the months since her receipt of his letter.
She had understood what a mistake it had been to suppose he was the answer she sought.
She was heartsick over the knowledge that Alaric had been keeping his discovery of the letter tucked away all this time. “Why did you not ask me?”
“How was I meant to ask you if you were in love with another man, Lillian?” His ordinarily composed facade cracked, showing her a glimpse of a man who was vulnerable yet again.
“I suppose I was too damned afraid to hear the answer. My pride didn’t want to know.
If you were truly in love with someone else, I feared the confirmation would break me. ”
Lillian stared at him, astonished that he should care so much. That he had been so adept at hiding behind his formal, aristocratic mask. How had she failed to see the depth of feeling in her husband?
“I’m sorry about the letter,” she said. “I never should have written him. I regret doing so, and if I’d had the slightest inkling that you had found his note to me, I would have explained.”
“I couldn’t bear the thought of you loving someone else, and I had no wish to force myself upon a wife who didn’t want me,” Alaric said.
She squeezed his fingers. “Surely you must know that wasn’t the way of things. When you kissed me that day, everything changed. But then you simply carried on as if it had never happened, and I didn’t know what to think. I thought that perhaps you had a mistress—”
“Never,” he interrupted fervently. “I promised myself to you on the day we wed, and I will honor that vow, just as I will honor you, until the day I die.”
Relief washed over her, followed quickly by confusion. “But if you don’t have a mistress, then who are you in love with?”
“Can you not guess?” He brought her hand to his lips for an ardent kiss, his gaze growing intimate and tender. “You, Lillian. I’m in love with you. I fell in love during that first month during our courtship, and when I inadvertently saw that letter, it broke me.”
“You…love me,” she repeated, almost too afraid to believe it.
How could it be possible that the man she had married, the aloof stranger who had been so perfectly proper and polite for so much of their time together, was in love with her?
“I love you.” He kissed her hand again. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, sorry I didn’t ask about the letter. Sorry I abandoned you after we arrived in London. My God, I’m so sorry for everything, my darling Lillian. I couldn’t have made a greater mess of this had I tried.”
“You truly love me,” she said again, awe overtaking her.
Suddenly, everything that had happened since that day in the study in New York came together with perfect clarity.
All this time, she had supposed him incapable of feeling, when he had been carrying around the heavy weight of the belief she was in love with another.
All this time, he had been in love with her.
“I truly do,” Alaric said. “Pray forgive me for being hesitant to display my emotions. It has been difficult for me since the tragedy. I lost everyone I had ever loved that day, and it changed me forever.”
Lillian swallowed against a rush of tears that threatened to fall. “You need not apologize to me, Alaric. I cannot begin to fathom how broken your heart must have been after you lost your family in such a terrible accident.”
Knowing the depth of emotion that hid behind his stoic countenance was enough to make Lillian realize that she needed to be honest with her husband as well.
He gave her a look that was so tender, her heart ached at the sight.
“You need not fear that I expect you to return my sentiments. I know you didn’t want our marriage, that you didn’t wish to marry a stranger your parents had selected solely for his title.
I hope that given time, I can earn your love.
I intend to do everything in my power to make that happen from this moment forward. ”
“You don’t have to do anything to earn my love,” she told him softly. “You already have it.”
He stilled, his gaze intent upon hers. “I do?”
She took a deep breath, summoning the words her husband deserved to hear. “I love you, Alaric. Not anyone else. You. Always and forever you. My heart is yours.”
He lowered his head, his lips finding hers, and they kissed. It was a sweet kiss, a consummation of all the suppressed love and desire that had been burning between them these last few months, kept at bay by their mutual fears. It was a revelation steeped in passion and unlocked secrets.
Lillian tugged her hands free so that she could touch him, finding his shoulders, absorbing his strength through her fingertips as she opened for his questing tongue. He tasted like plum pudding and Alaric, and nothing had ever been more delicious.
They kissed until they were both breathing hard, and he broke the kiss to caress her face with a gentle, reverent touch. “I do believe this is the best Christmas gift I’ve ever been given.”
“If you must go to Scotland again, or to the end of the earth, take me with you,” she said. “I want to be wherever you are.”
“I’ll never leave your side.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Happy Christmas, my love.”
She blinked away the tears clouding her vision. “Happy Christmas, Alaric.”