She slipped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, kissing him back with equal fervor. Indeed, she became certain that Madame Versailles was in on the deception, for the drapesof the shop windows had been pulled shut, allowing them absolute privacy.
I missed you…
She hugged him tightly to her, sliding her hand into his silky, russet brown locks, kissing him as if she might never have the chance again. She kissed him as if she had lost the power of speech, and needed her lips to relay the message to his own with each passionate ebb and flow.
All too soon, he pulled back, sweeping a wayward lock of hair behind her ear. “Am I still being too presumptuous?”
“Yes, but, fortunately for you, your presumption is correct,” she replied, smiling for the first time in at least two weeks. “I love you, Edmund. I have tried not to, but I do. I have loved you, I think, since you pulled me into your arms and called me yours in the gardens of Kensington Palace.”
He chuckled warmly. “I did not realize it was you.”
“Oh, so you do that often?” she teased, pushing down the mild jab of jealousy that struck her under the ribs.
“Actually, I have never done that in my life,” he replied. “I mean it. I thought it was weird at the time, but now I understand—part of me must have known it was you I was rescuing. Part of me must have wanted the chance to call you mine.”
She gently stroked the side of his face. “I was looking for you. I was hoping you would find me. You were the mysterious man I mentioned what feels like forever ago.”
“Well, I am sorry that I made you wait for so long,” he murmured, kissing the tip of her nose. “I love you. Truly, I love you. I shall never be hesitant to say it again.”
She beamed from ear to ear. “As I love you, my masked champion.”
“Does this mean I am forgiven?”
She tilted her head to one side. “Kiss me again, and I shall tell you.”
“Iwillkiss you again, my love, but you have not yet answered the most important question,” he said, cradling her face in his rough, strong hands.
She frowned. “What is that?”
“My love, my darling Isolde, will you make me the happiest man in the world—happier than I have any right to be—by agreeing to be my wife?” he said softly, his eyes bright with a hope she had no intention of dashing.
She chuckled and rested her forehead on his. “Was my answer not obvious?”
He shook his head.
“Well then, my love, be assured that nothing would makemehappier,” she told him. “And as soon as I am no longer engaged to Noah, I hope to marry you as quickly as possible. I have dreamed of love my entire life, of spending the rest of my days blissfully besotted with my husband, so let us not wait to make it a reality.”
He brushed her cheek and brought his lips closer to hers, whispering, “I would marry you right now if I could.” He smiled. “So… am I forgiven?”
She kissed him then, letting the press of her lips answer him.
EPILOGUE
“Izzie, you are going to be late,” Prudence said drily from Isolde’s bed, where she had been lounging all morning, being no help at all.
It had taken Vincent physically carrying Prudence out of the room to get her to put on her own dress for the wedding, though she had threatened to wear a pair of trousers that she had stolen from one of Vincent’s old wardrobes.
“I am hurrying as fast as I can!” Isolde said, clasping a hand to her chest, comforted by the exhilarated flutter of her heart. It surely meant that she was, at last, marrying the right man.
Isolde’s mother strode in at that moment, hands on hips. “Isolde, you are going to be late. Youcannotbe late. There are two-hundred guests waiting!”
“What?” Isolde gasped, whirling around on the vanity chair to stare at her mother in horror.
“Imighthave been somewhat… enthusiastic with the invitations,” her mother replied, looking a little sheepish. “But can you blame me, darling? I have been saying forever that you and Edmund would make a perfect match, and now it is finally going to happen. Of course I got carried away!”
Teresa tutted from the window seat, where she had her nose buried in a book. “Edmund and Izzie asked for a quiet ceremony, Mama. You should not have done that. You are exposing them to gossip that they do not need, considering they emerged unscathed from the broken betrothal. You should not tempt fate.”
“For goodness’ sake, am I not allowed to take pride in my daughter’s wedding? At least I am not like the Duchess of Farnaby’s mother—she invited a thousand guests and insisted on the wedding taking place at Westminster Cathedral. I am notthatbad,” their mother grumbled, stalking back out of the room.
