At Last #6
“No, it’s not,” she agreed. “So, in Melrose, I was merely Sophia Mallory. Eager to explore, I went for a walk as soon as I arrived. I wandered into a beautiful meadow and picked a handful of roses. Holding those flowers, feeling the warmth of such a lovely day, it suddenly felt as if something inside me shifted – like a dark cloud dissipating so the sun could shine through. A joy I hadn’t felt since before Robert’s death bubbled up inside me.
I spun around in pure delight, feeling free in a way I hadn’t since I was a girl.
And when I stopped spinning, I saw you. I considered telling you my title, but when you confirmed you were the groundskeeper, I changed my mind.
A groundskeeper wouldn’t converse so informally with a countess – and I had no desire to end our conversation.
By the end of our walk through the garden I knew I wanted us to become lovers. ”
His lips twitched. “I’m heartbroken it took you that long to realize it. I knew the instant I laid eyes on you.”
“I still considered telling you, but after a few weeks with you in the cottage, my title simply ceased to matter. I loved the simplicity of our existence. Loved being simply Sophia. I knew I’d have to return to my world, but until that time, I didn’t want anything of my life in England to intrude on my happiness.
Because Ian, I was truly happy. I never thanked you properly, so I hope you’ll accept my gratitude now. ”
“Then why did you leave? And so abruptly?”
“When you mentioned me staying longer than the two months I’d planned, it burst the bubble surrounding me.
I realized I’d inadvertently led you to believe our arrangement could continue for an extended duration.
It seemed too late to tell you the truth, yet I couldn’t bring myself to lie to you any longer.
That last night, it became clear that your feelings for me were stronger than I’d ever anticipated them becoming.
” She drew a deep breath, then added, “As were my feelings for you.”
Fire, and something that looked alarmingly like hope kindled in his eyes. He lifted her hands to his lips and gently kissed the backs of her fingers. “You’ve no idea how glad I am to hear of these strong feelings for me, Sophia.”
Before she could tell him that he shouldn’t be glad, that those feelings were impossible, the carriage jerked to halt.
“We have arrived,” Ian said softly.
Five
Sophia halted just inside the drawing room. “What’s all this?” she asked, sweeping her arm towards the round table set before the hearth where a cheery fire crackled.
Ian assessed the table with a critical eye and was pleased to note his instructions to the staff had been perfectly carried out during his absence. “A surprise. For you.”
She walked across the room then slowly circled the table. “Roses, cherries, marzipan, scones and raspberry conserve,” she murmured, gently trailing her fingertips around the polished wood edge. “All my—”
“Favourite things. Aye.” Ian leaned against the hearth and crossed his arms over his chest – the only way he could keep from yanking her into his arms. Bloody hell, if he’d thought it difficult not to pounce upon her before, it was nearly impossible not to do so now, when no more secrets existed between them.
When he’d bared his soul to her, and she’d admitted to having strong feelings for him.
Based on her reaction to their kiss on the terrace, he didn’t doubt he could seduce her, but he wanted more than a quick romp.
Wanted more than her body. He wanted her heart.
And wanted her to know she owned his. Although she’d owned it from the moment he’d seen her, he’d never told her so, something he’d castigated himself for every day for the past six months.
Surely if he’d told her, she wouldn’t have left him.
He’d intended to, but hadn’t felt the need to rush, especially as he believed she knew, even without the words, how deeply he cared for her.
Bloody hell, it had seemed as if his feelings all but glowed from him.
It was a mistake he wouldn’t repeat. Before this evening was over, Sophia would know, without a doubt, how much he cared for her – out of the bedchamber as well as in it.
So, instead of sweeping her into his arms and carrying her to the nearest bed, he offered her a smile and teased, “I’d wager you’re now sorry you never expressed to me a love for diamonds and emeralds.”
She laughed, a magical sound that flowed over him like warm honey. “In truth I’m not overly fond of diamonds or emeralds. I much prefer—”
“Pearls.”
“I mentioned that?”
He nodded. “Once.”
“And you remembered?”
“You sound surprised.”
“I suppose I am.”
She returned her attention to the table and picked up one of the sea shells decorating the surface. As he knew she would, she held the shell up to her ear, and his heart turned over at the delighted smile that lifted her lips. “You also remembered how I love the sound of the sea.”
“I recall every detail of our time together. Everything about you is … unforgettable.”
Colour rushed into her cheeks and she quickly set the shell back in the bowl. “Ian, what I said in the carriage regarding my feelings … there are things we need to discuss—”
“I agree. And what better way to begin than with your favourite things?” He slid back one of the mahogany chairs from the table in invitation.
Her gaze lingered over the arrangement of pink roses set in a crystal vase in the centre of the table. “I believe you are once again trying to tempt me with your roses.”
“I am. And let’s not forget the cherries, marzipan, scones and raspberry jam.”
She moistened her lips, a gesture that tightened Ian’s fingers around chair back. “I am a bit hungry,” she murmured.
“Excellent. Shall we sit?”
She hesitated, and he prayed the wariness in her eyes was a result of not trusting herself – bloody great news as far as he was concerned – as opposed to not trusting him: a bloody depressing thought.
Finally she nodded, then gracefully sat and murmured her thanks.
Ian took the seat across from her and popped a piece of marzipan in his mouth.
While enjoying the almond-flavoured treat as well as several cherries he watched her spread jam on a scone then take a delicate bite.
“Is it to your liking?”
“Yes. Thank you for going to such trouble on my behalf.”
“’Tis no trouble to give you the things you enjoy, Sophia.”
His gaze riveted on a speck of jam dotting her bottom lip.
Unable to resist, he reached out and brushed a fingertip over the spot.
“You missed a bit of jam.” With his gaze steady on hers, he sucked the morsel from his fingertip.
Her eyes darkened at the gesture – which he might perhaps have been able to resist, but when her gaze dropped to his mouth and she whispered his name, the fire racing through him incinerated his every good intention, and the battle not to touch her was well and truly lost.
Without taking his gaze from her, he stood and strode around the table. Lifted her into his arms. Carried her swiftly to the sofa. Set her on the chintz-covered cushion, then covered her body with his.
“Missed you so bloody much,” he murmured in a rough whisper, interspersing kisses along her jaw and neck between words. “Couldn’t eat. Couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t think o’ anything but you. Finding you. Touching you. Loving you.”
Every thought fled his mind when she tangled her fingers in his hair and urged his mouth to hers for a lush, tongue-dancing kiss. More. Needed more. He insinuated his hand beneath her gown’s hem and skimmed his palm up her leg.
“Ached for you … God, Sophia, I’ve ached for you every minute of the last six months.” They both groaned when he touched her folds. “Wet,” he rasped, running his tongue down her throat as he teased her with a light, circular motion then slipped two fingers inside her. “You’re so beautifully wet.”
She moaned and arched beneath him, spreading her legs wider. “I’ve ached for you as well, Ian.” She stroked his hard length through his breeches, and he gritted his teeth against the intense pleasure.
Helpless to remain still, he thrust into her hand.
“I won’t last long if you continue doing …
ahhh … that.” Long? Bloody hell, he was a heartbeat away from ripping open his breeches and mindlessly sinking into her.
Which was precisely what he’d promised himself he wouldn’t do.
Damn it, he was going to do this properly even if it killed him – which it bloody well might.
With a groan that felt ripped from his soul, he sat up, bowed his head, and fought to control his ragged breathing.
“Ian …” She sat up and kissed his neck, dragging another groan from him. “You didn’t need to stop. I want us to have this night. One last night to be together.”
A frown pulled down his brows and he turned towards her. “One last night? What are you talking about?”
“Us … spending the night together. Enjoying each other.”
“And then …?”
“And then I’ll go home. And you’ll return to Scotland.”
Bloody hell. He’d not only pounced on her, he’d lost his mind and forgotten all his fine plans for the evening. “Sophia. I stopped because I didn’t come here for a quick romp—”
“I understand. Which is why I want you to know we can have the entire night.”
“No, you don’t understand at all. I didn’t come to London to resume our affair or to spend a night with you.
I came here to tell you that I love you.
So much it hurts to even breathe without you.
I don’t want you to be just my lover. I want you to be my wife.
” He withdrew a square velvet box from his waistcoat pocket then lowered himself to one knee.
Looking into her eyes, he opened the box to reveal the pearl ring he’d commissioned especially for her. “Sophia, will you marry me?”
Six