Chapter 29 #2
Brandon looked up at her, still tumultuous.
The battle was raging inside him. She lightly touched his cheek to douse the flames inside him, and it seemed to work.
His furrowed eyebrows evened, his lips relaxed, and the look in his eyes was no longer that of an untamed beast. But that only made room for another emotion that was overwhelming him. Worry and shame.
“I should have been there,” he said softly.
“You were,” she reminded him.
“I didn’t protect you.”
“You did protect me. You came for me.”
Brandon let go, and his head fell on her lap, his fists curling around her skirts. It was as if he was trying to make sure that she was real, that she was not some illusion that his crazed-with-worry mind had conjured.
“Brandon, please look at me.”
He looked up, and Marigold was floored by the intense emotions swimming in those dark eyes. She had thought of him as cold the first time they met, unemotional and calculating, but she could now see that he was anything but all those things.
“I am here.”
“I almost lost you, Marigold.”
“But you didn’t,” she assured. “You saved me once more, like you did the first night we met in one of these dark alleys.”
“I should have been there. If I were at home to protect you, they wouldn’t have been able to get to you.”
Marigold looked down with shame.
“It was Donny that found me.”
“Found you?” Brandon demanded. “Found you where?”
“I was out on the streets.”
Brandon frowned.
“What were you doing alone out on the streets, Marigold?”
Marigold couldn’t believe that this was the same day that all of this had happened. If only she had stayed in the safety of her home, she would have spared him this pain.
“I was leaving my mother’s.”
Brandon’s back straightened. He was starting to suspect something, and Marigold could now realize that she was being a fool, rash, impulsive.
“What were you doing back there? Did your mother set an ambush for you? Did she lure you back into your house so that she could—”
“No, it was not like that,” Marigold tried to explain. “I went there to ask her to let me stay for the night.”
Brandon’s jaw dropped, and then his lips tightened again. He was breathing heavily when he looked at her with those deep, dark eyes.
“Why would you need to stay the night at your mother’s when you have a whole estate to yourself?”
“I thought you wanted me away.”
Brandon once more had to abandon his anger, and now, he too was caught in shame.
“What did I ever do to make you think I would like you out of the house? Our house?”
“You said the agreement was off.”
“And that was what prompted you to pack your things and go back to the most despicable person on earth? Am I that repulsive to you?”
“No, I thought I was repulsive to you.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because you took back the deal! Because you said you didn’t need an heir anymore!”
Brandon stared at her; his mouth opened and then closed.
“You said I was free,” Marigold added, her fingers clenching on her skirt. “Did you want to let me go?”
His breaths came in deep pants. Overpowering emotions came over him, pushing each other, unable to settle on one.
But he finally made his decision. He pulled closer, still on his knees before her, and cupped her face in his hands.
They were dirty and bloodied and troubling, but Marigold welcomed his touch, the one she thought she had lost forever.
“I took back the deal,” he said, wanting to make sure that she heard him clearly, “because to me, you’re not a transaction.
You’re not a deal. You’re not an agreement.
You are not information or a womb. And I didn’t want you to stay because you owed me something.
I wanted you to be free to choose to stay with me. ”
“Oh,” Marigold was at a loss for words.
“I was expecting a little more than a simple ‘oh’ after this confession, but maybe I should try harder.”
“Perhaps you should, Your Grace,” she said, her lips trembling and tears ready.
Brandon chuckled, his thumb caressing her jaw, his body impossibly close. The world was raging around them, people were screaming, and this building was on fire, but she did not care.
“Marigold,” he said softly over her lips. “I do not need information or an heir. I do not need a duchess to run my estate. I need you. No, that is not enough. I do not simply need you.”
He caressed her face and looked deep into her eyes, his breath warming her lips. Marigold felt her heart leap so hard into her chest that she was sure he could hear it.
“Marigold,” his voice almost broke, “I love you.”
She gasped and leaned back to look upon his face to make sure that he was telling the truth.
“You…?”
“I love you, Marigold,” he confessed again. “I regret it took me facing danger to realize what was in my heart all along. Will you ever forgive me?”
Marigold looked at him as if she were in a dream.
“So, I guess the only answers I get are either an ‘oh’ or nothing,” Brandon said and tried to move away, giving her space.
But she was not ready to let him go. She let her fingers go to the nape of his neck, and then, she pulled him closer. It was Brandon’s turn to gasp at feeling her so close.
“I love you too,” she said firmly.
Brandon’s jaw dropped, and then, a smile bloomed on his lips.
“Is that a satisfactory answer, Your Grace?” Marigold teased him.
Brandon chuckled and moved even closer. His eyes took all of her in, as if looking upon her for the first time, with utter adoration.
“I believe I would need a repetition to reach more certain conclusions,” Brandon teased her.
Marigold smiled and shook her head. She let her arms weave around his neck, without caring about propriety or what the ton would think of this open display of affection.
“It would be my pleasure, Your Grace,” she said over his lips. “I love you.”
“Once more,” Brandon said, letting his fingers in her hair.
“I love you,” she breathed.
“I am never letting you go, Marigold,” he promised.
Their breaths came shallow, and his eyes dropped on her lips.
“I have no intention of ever leaving, Brandon,” she said breathlessly.
He couldn’t hold back anymore. His lips found hers. The kiss was not gentle. It was filled with the anguish of almost losing each other, the relief of being safe, the joy of confessing.
He cradled her head, and she tightened around him.
When he nudged her lips open, she did not hesitate, not caring who was watching.
She needed to taste him so that she could erase the bitter tang of fear.
She needed to feel him, make sure this was real.
And she needed to reassure him with everything she had that she was his forever, for good.
“Well, that is a scorching kiss,” a familiar voice interrupted them.
Marigold and Brandon broke the kiss and looked up, still entangled in each other’s arms. Owen was standing there. His clothes were charred, his face covered in ash, and he had blood all over, but he was smiling.
“It must have been you that set the warehouse on fire,” he continued.
“Owen,” Brandon said, “I see that you survived.”
“I did. Please hold back your tears.”
“Owen?”
“Brandon?”
“Go away, or I will be tempted to throw you in the pyre.”
“Fine, fine. I know when I’m not wanted.” Owen raised his arms in defense. “I am glad you are safe, Marigold. Not a word about all this to Lily.”
“Glad to see you are safe too.” Marigold smiled.
She didn’t get the chance to say anything more because Brandon claimed her, pulling her close to his chest. His heart was beating so fast. It was strong, steady, and above all, alive. Her head rested on his chest, breathing in his scent even covered over the smoke.
“You are everything to me, Marigold.”
“You’re everything to me too, Brandon.”