“Of course, I believe it’s the nature of humans to have those.”
“You’re human?” Poppy muttered.
Willow shook her head. “I meant . . . What I meant is that you have them—feelings—for me?”
“Of course. Is that not clear by now? I will say that I never expected you to drug me and tie me up, though I should have, I suppose. You hail from the Middleton bloodline, after all.”
“You . . . you . . .” Willow spluttered, staring at him wide-eyed.
“Orchestrated this,” Poppy finished in awe. “He orchestrated it all.”
“I did no such thing,” Ambrose denied.
“But you let us free my sister, knowing some sort of rescue would be underway.” Willow’s brows narrowed speculatively. “Why?”
“Madness, mostly, but I suppose that’s to be expected when one falls in love with one’s wife and has to find a way to prove it to her.”
Jonathan’s laughter crackled through the air. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
Willow sucked in a breath, her eyes glued to his. The lines of his face were cut deep, but the hard edge to his features was gone. Lord, had he just told her helovedher? The brandy and sleeping draught must still be in effect. That’s it. He couldn’t possibly have said that.
“Then why did you not call off your henchman?” Willow demanded.
“I was too late.”
“And when you learned they found Holly? Why not let her go then?”
“I planned on releasing her, but Warton ruined the surprise.”
“Surprise?”
Ambrose nodded. “I planned on letting her go that very morning. You were supposed to enter the dining room, feast spread out, your sister smiling at the table.”
Willow swore she felt her heart melt there and then. “Why did you not tell me then?”
He took a step forward. “I froze, love, and behaved like an ass. I truly never meant for it to go this far.”
“You still could have told me,” Willow said in a small whisper, her heart pumping madly.
“Would you have believed my sincerity? That I had decided to let go of any grievance before my men found her? Before Warton barged in and yelled bloody murder?”
“I . . .” Would she have? Perhaps not. No, definitely not. She’d never have believed him, not in that moment—for why hold Holly without telling her if he decided not to go through with his plan?
As if sensing her thoughts, he added, “It all happened so fast, much faster than I expected, and before I knew it, I had your sister tucked away and no damn clue what to do with her. Then Warton ruined my plan. It was supposed to be romantic.”
“So you sat back and did nothing?” Poppy asked, looking more fascinated by their conversation than she ought to.
Honestly.
Ambrose nodded. “I knew, for me to convince Willow of my sincerity, I had to give up the reins and let her do what she does best. Which, in this case, would mean rallying the troops and liberating your sister.”
“Which happened,” Willow murmured, inhaling the earthy scent of her husband—he smelled of tobacco and rain. She allowed it to fill her senses, to wash away the doubt that clenched around her bones. But first, she had to make sure . . . “So you were not planning on forcing a match between my sister and your brother?”
He shook his head, staring at her with those dark, intense eyes. “I’ve recently come to appreciate the wordmore.”
More.
She knew the feeling tied to that word well.
