Devlin grimaced, then sighed and looked away. “I know that.”
Therese peered at his face. “So what was that about?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “I came in and saw him holding you, looking into your face and saying the word ‘love’…and I overreacted.”
Reliving that moment, he clenched his jaw, then opened his eyes. “Let’s just call it a moment of temporary insanity.” Not an inappropriate description for the blind rage that had erupted and taken possession of him, body and mind.
He glanced at Therese and met her eyes. Watchful, waiting eyes. He was fairly certain Child had dropped him squarely in it; he didn’t know if that was a good thing or… “What did he tell you?” He needed to learn what options Child had left him or whether now, he had only one way forward. When she didn’t immediately answer, he recalled Child’s words and amended, “What was it he wanted you to believe?”
She studied his face, then folded her arms. Regarding him steadily, she replied, “He told me that you loved me and insisted he was correct.”
She’d said the words in an even tone, as a matter-of-fact statement, yet he heard the question behind them, the lingering uncertainty she harbored—that she still wasn’t sure whether to believe and was half expecting him to deny Child’s insight and laugh the notion aside…
He searched her face, and something with claws gripped his heart and squeezed. Behind the silver blue of her eyes lurked a raw vulnerability that was all his fault. Before he’d even thought, he shifted to face her and took her hands in his. “He was right. I do love you.”
Emotion—fragile hope—flared in her lovely eyes, but she held it back, her fingers lying passively in his, while with a hint of desperation, she searched his eyes, his expression.
He’d done an excellent job of convincing her otherwise; with a conscious effort, he lowered every last emotional shield he’d erected between them and, with his eyes steady on hers, hoping equally desperately that she would see the truth, quietly said, “I don’t know how or why it happened, only that it did.”
With a faint, rueful twist of his lips, holding her gaze, he raised one of her hands and lightly kissed her fingers. “I look at you, and my love for you is simply there, an inescapable part of me. It influences everything I do that in any way impinges on you. When it comes to you, love is and will always be my guiding light.”
He read in her eyes, in the sudden tensing of her fingers on his, that she was listening, watching, analyzing—wanting to believe, yet still uncertain. Still wary. The sight spurred him on. “I know the reality of what I feel for you, and I wanted you to know it, too, but I feared that, after all this time, if I simply came out and said the words, you wouldn’t believe me.”
An expression that translated toWhat did you expect?infused her fine features. “We’ve been married for five years.”
“Exactly. So given that words wouldn’t work, over these past weeks, I’ve been trying to open your eyes by finding ways to unequivocally show you what I feel for you.” He paused to search her eyes. “To make you understand that I love you.”
She continued to examine his features while hers revealed that she yearned to believe, but was still hesitating.
He’d known this wouldn’t be easy.
He dragged in a breath and went on, “Just so you know, acknowledging that I love you won’t make me easier to live with.” He tipped his head toward where Child had landed. “As you just witnessed. When I heard and saw Child, I was overtaken by an instant, unreasoning, and ungovernable reaction. No matter what my rational mind knew, something inside me didn’t stop to think but reacted to what, in that instant, I perceived as an unendurable threat. A threat to me, to us, to our life together—to what I want that life to be.”
Gripping her fingers more firmly, he dipped his head so he could look directly and deeply into her eyes. “You and I—over the past five years, we’ve fitted so well together. In so many ways, we are each the perfect complement for the other. Youaremy wife, my countess, the mother of my children, my helpmate, and so much more. You are my lover in truth, in every way encompassed by the human condition.” He paused, then voice deepening, said, “You are the only woman I want or need in my life because you fill every corner of my existence.”
Her gaze locked with his, Therese saw his sincerity, read and accepted the unadorned, inherent honesty in his words, and above all else, heard the emotion underscoring his deep tones and knew beyond question that he—her perennially calculating and collected husband—was speaking from his heart.
Please believe mewas blazoned in his eyes. An unvoiced plea from a nobleman who could command almost everything else in his life.
Something shifted inside her, like a protective grille sliding aside. She slipped her fingers from his and, almost tentatively, raised her hands and framed his chiseled cheeks. She stared into his eyes, held by the unwavering steadiness of his hazel gaze, and finally set aside her wariness, her hesitancy, and allowed herself to believe…all he had said.
“You love me.” She whispered the words even as she confirmed that truth in his eyes. “Youloveme.” Wonder filled her, and she felt her heart, freed of chains she hadn’t even realized had shackled it, start to rise, then take flight.
He read her response—her acceptance—in her eyes, in her face, and the unforgiving harshness that, until that moment, had invested his features eased. “I do.” He drew her closer, and she sank against him. He stared at her face as if memorizing every detail, then he bent his head, and she raised her lips.
In the instant before their lips met, he breathed, “I love you, Therese, and I always will.”
Then he closed the gap, and their lips touched, pressed together, then fused. A second later, she parted hers and invited him in, and as boldly and challengingly as ever, he thrust in, stroked, and claimed.
To her escalating wonder, she could sense the difference him owning to love had wrought, even in something so simple as a kiss. If earlier, she’d identified a lowering of some screen, now that screen had been completely set aside, done away with, and there was nothing left to mute or veil the undeniable promise of something precious and wonderful or the yearning joy of a love undisguised, a love fully revealed.
A love fully reciprocated.
Her heart beat faster, and her senses rejoiced. Her hands had come to rest against his chest; she slid both up to curve about his nape and let her own love rise through her to meet and merge with his.
He reacted, deepening the kiss, transparently hungry for more, and she gave it eagerly, gladly, letting her love for him well and pour through the increasingly ardent exchange.
The engagement continued, neither willing to call any halt, too immersed and engrossed in exploring this novel landscape, familiar yet so much brighter, more entrancing, bathed in and illuminated by a newfound golden glow.
