The sharp inhale of his breath drew her eyes to him once more. The image flitted away.
“The hell it is not!”
“Simon, that night in the garden and the other…” she cleared her throat, “They were a mistake.Weshould never have happened. You don’t need to fulfill any duty toward me.”
“Is that what you think?” His words were a soft whisper now.
“I—I do not know what to think, half of the time.”
A ragged sigh tore from his chest. “I am terrified for you, Belle. This is not about duty.”
“That is still no reason to marry. My brothers are here, perhaps not in eyesight, but close.”
“A spy is hell bent on killing you and hell if I know what your brothers are actually doing about it.”
“I should never have gone to the park, another mistake on my part. He cannot get close if I remain in the shadows and don’t step into the light.” But even as Belle said it, uncertainty stirred in her heart.
Simon spotted it. “We are getting married and that is final.”
She sat up straighter. “Even if you do manage to drag me down to the altar, while I shout obscenities I might add, I still have tovoluntarilysay yes. You cannot force my consent.”
His eyes asked her, ‘Are you certain about that?’while his hand raked through his blonde mane. “We will get married, even if I have to hold the blacksmith at gunpoint. I suggest you get used to my face, darling, you’ll be seeing it for the remainder of your life,” he bit out rather bitterly.
“You imagine that would be a hardship.”
He gave a rueful laugh. “You have not made it a secret that I’m not good enough to be your husband. Apparently, I’m only worthy of relieving you of your virtue.”
Belle gasped in outrage. “I never said that!”
“You’ve made your grievances quite clear. So I can only deduce that you can never come to love an earl like me.”
An earl like him? Hah!
But the word “love” brought her up short.
Love.
The earlier image of him standing before her, mouthing something while she enjoyed her lemon cakes suddenly invaded her mind.
I love you, not the damn lemon cakes.
Her heart stopped.
“You said you loved me,” Belle murmured, the memory now so clear in her mind that she almost choked on it.
He stilled, weary emerald eyes roaming her face, taking in every small nuisance and registering the slight twitch in her eye.
Belle squirmed under his gaze, wishing she hadn’t blurted that out. But the memory had caught her so off guard, how was she meant to react to that? By the tick in his jaw, she estimated her reaction was not the desired one.
“Yes, I may have declared something of the sort while you were too preoccupied with cake and bleeding to death,” he snapped.
In hindsight, she may not have had the best timing in the world.
“Simon,” she started but paused when she saw him stiffen at her placating tone.
Simon was unlike any man she’d ever met, by no means was he a rake or the brooding sort. Always ready with a smile and a gentleman in every sense of the word, he also possessed a slightly wild imagination. In short, he was wonderful and she didn’t know what to do with him.
Her hands trembled with uncertainty and her mind protested to what her heart was determined to utter. Yet if she confessed her true feelings and how much she desired to call him her own, he’d never let her go. She’d even wager he’d move mountains to claim her, which would ultimately end in resentment.
