Pleasurably Undone! (21 page)

“I know you do not want a child. But I do so very much want one. Want
this
one.”

He scraped a hand through his hair. “Good God. I did not want to walk outside in the daytime. Or to remove my mask. I’ve done those things.” He took her face in both his hands. “I did not want a woman to love, merely a woman to make love to, but you changed everything.”

“I do not understand.”

He released her and looked away, covering his scars with his hand. “It is no use. There’s no chance. I cannot be a husband. A father. What woman would want to look upon this the rest of her life?” He pointed to his scars. “I’d frighten my own children.”

She stared at him. “Graham, what are you saying to me?”

He gazed upon her. “I’m saying if I were not some monstrosity best reserved for a display of oddities, if I had met you before, I would marry you and consider myself the most fortunate of men. I would adore any child you bore.”

She gaped. “Are you proposing marriage, Graham?”

He turned away. “How can I propose marriage to you?”

She laughed softly. “Place an advertisement in
The Times. Seeking a once-virginal vicar’s daughter for marriage. Gentleman of good character offers happiness and a great deal of pleasure.
”

She touched the mangled side of his face and brought her lips to his.

London, February, 1818

G
raham walked in the door of his London town house, shaking the rain from his topcoat. Coombs helped him with the garment and took his hat and gloves.

“Thank you, Coombs.” Graham headed up the stairs. As he neared the top step, he pulled off the mask. “Anyone at home?”

“Papa!” came an excited squeal.

A little girl with nutmeg-colored hair and brown eyes ran into the hallway. Behind her was a blue-eyed little boy still in a short coat. “Papa,” he cried, mimicking his sister’s exact tone.

Graham crouched down to catch them both in his arms, these perfect children of his. His daughter flung her chubby little arms around his neck and kissed his cheek—his scarred cheek.

“I missed you so much, Papa!” she cried.

“I missed you, too,” his son said.

He laughed. “I missed you the most.” He kissed them both on their smooth, unmarred little faces. Still holding them, he glanced at the doorway to the drawing room.

His wife stood there.

Even after nearly six years, Margaret’s beauty still took his breath. Carrying their children, he walked over to her and leaned down for a long lingering kiss that made him wish it were time for the children to be tucked in bed.

As his lips left hers, she whispered. “I missed you the most.”

He smiled, but knew she was wrong. Everything worth possessing was here in his arms now. His wife. His son. His daughter. This was life itself.

And he’d almost missed it all.