Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
I an slept hardly half an hour before insisting to be allowed at his wife’s side.
When he saw her, his heart went cold.
Cecilia’s face was pale. Though she was breathing, the delicate features of her face, usually so lively and passionate and expressive, were so still and devoid of any fire.
“Please wake up,” he muttered, clinging to her hand. “Open your eyes, Cecilia. Tell me I was wrong. Argue with me. Tell me you hate me. I would gladly bear a thousand years of angry glares from across the room, if only it means that you all right and have opened your eyes. I was a fool not to tell you sooner how much I love you. I should have told you the moment I realized.”
Her eyes fluttered. When she opened them, she looked at him blankly at first, as though she did not recognize him at all. Ian could hardly breathe.
“What in the devil are you doing here?” she finally asked. Her throat sounded raw, but behind that was that fire that was so familiar to him, the fire he loved so much.
Ian sighed in relief. If she was angry at him, that meant she was all right. “Thank God.” He pressed a kiss to her hand. “Cecilia, I was so worried.”
She yanked her hand away. “You may leave, Your Grace,” she said coldly.
“I will do no such thing.” He reached out again.
“I say you will.” She moved to sit up angrily. Immediately she winced and tried to lie back on the pillow. “Good God, that hurts.”
Ian rushed forward to help her lay back down. This time, she did not shake him off. “You had a bad fall. You need rest. The doctor said to avoid any sudden movements. I will call him back to speak with you, after I finish.”
Cecilia’s brow furrowed. “After?”
Ian left the chair and dropped to his knees.
“I have been a fool,” he said. “A most terrible fool. And I understand if you never wish to see me again, after what I have put you through. But I ask only that you allow me to explain why I did so.”
Cecilia did not respond. But neither did she demand again he leave her sickroom.
“The death of my parents…it ruined me,” he admitted. “I was young. I had grown up with such love—I had never imagined it could be taken from me so suddenly. When they died, I was all of a sudden filled with a great conviction that such loss was inevitable. If I were to have a child, they would have to suffer the same. My wife would, as well—and that was only if I was fortunate enough to die before my wife and child, so that I would not have to suffer through losing them to an untimely death. The pain of losing my parents was visceral. Severe. I could never put anyone through that.”
She stared at him, unspeaking.
“More than that, it left a gaping void, somewhere deep inside me,” he continued, searching for the words. “A void that I attempted to plaster over with liquor and cheap escapades—but nothing ever really filled it, until I met you.” He shook his head, looking at her pleadingly. “I have been falling in love with you since I met you, Cecilia. Since the very first moment.”
“The very first moment?” She let out a bitter chuckle. “You told me what you felt for me was lust, at best. And I was certain that, in spite of that lust, we both despised each other.”
“I never truly despised you,” he said, shaking his head. He continued, “But even when I thought you despised me, I found myself spending nearly every waking hour wishing to see you again, if only so that I might hear what cutting barb you would think up for me next. I love you, Cecilia. Truly.” He clasped his hands more tightly. “And, if you will still have me,” he said, “I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”
Tears welled up in Cecilia’s eyes, transforming them into beautiful green pools. “Truly?” she asked.
He nodded.
She reached for him, wincing slightly, and brought his lips to hers.
When he pulled back, he found that the tears in her eyes were mirrored in his. “I will,” she said. “I will have you.”
Ian nearly collapsed in relief. He shut his eyes. “Thank God,” he said. When he opened his eyes, he was taken aback once more by her beauty, so much so that he nearly forgot how to speak.
He stared at her for so long, Cecilia grew a look of concern on her face. “Is something the matter?”
He laughed, shaking his head. “You must be a witch, truly.”
She raised a brow. “You have cast a spell on me.”
“I assure you, Your Grace, if I were a witch I would have turned you into a frog long ago.”
“Another kiss, then? To transform this frog into a prince worthy of your hand.”
“I have no need of a prince,” she said, brushing her thumb back and forth across his cheek.
“That is just as well,” he said. “As you know very well, a dukedom is the best I have to offer.”
She smiled. “Duke or prince or butler or commoner,” she assured him. “Any husband who loves me, whatever his title, would suit me just fine.”