Twixt Two Equal Armies (78 page)

“No, that is not why I . . . I have offered too many empty apologies of late, but I have come to realise that the only way for me to put right what I have wronged is to give you something of greater value. And the most precious and rare thing I have to give to anyone — to you — is the truth. I must be truthful. To you and also to myself. And you must do with it as you will.

“I pride myself on being a rational and reasonable man, Miss Tournier. But that day I was far from it. Had I been rational and reasonable, I should have realised my true offence. For you see, in truth, I very much
wanted
to kiss you that day. I think I had wanted to do so for a very long time, and I was a fool when I did not realise it was not so much a spontaneous outburst rather than the quite rational expression of a more long-standing need . . . ”

She coloured and her eyes darted here and there, looking everywhere but at him, her breath coming rapidly. It was obvious that she was embarrassed and bewildered, but he pressed forward, afraid to stop once he had begun. It must out. All of it needed to be said to leave no doubt either in her mind or his. Not anymore.

“Pardon me, I do ramble on,” he said more quietly. “I think I must offend you. I know I did so then. In so many ways. I was so dishonest and such a coward, I can very well understand if you should never forgive me. All I can say is that I am honest — painfully so — now.”

He tried to meet her eyes, but she continued to look flustered and turn away.

“My heart, you see, is a new-found companion to me,” he went on, smiling a little, apologetic smile. “It has been a stranger to me until now. Until you. And now it has taken me over and speaks with my voice. It says to me that you are essential to my happiness. That my life, in truth, already circles around you and it needs you to feel complete. All else is pretence and rationalisation. And the urge to kiss you was just a desperate expression of that hitherto suppressed need.”

She lifted her eyes in one hasty movement and looked at him. Encouraged by the fact that she looked more bewildered than disgusted, he decided to push on.

“So, my heart says, ever since that day, I have in truth wanted to do it again. But that is a trifle difficult since I did promise not to. Do it again. But now, I thought, in view of what I now know . . . hope . . . if I might ask . . . very politely . . . Do you think . . . ? Would I . . . could I kiss you again, Miss Tournier?”

H
OLLY COULD NOT BELIEVE WHAT
she was hearing. She looked into his eyes, they were brilliantly blue and open and sincere — no masks. It seemed an eternity without sound, just the world spinning around her and his words echoing in her ears. That and the faint realisation that he was laying his feelings — his honest feelings — before her. Was her mind playing tricks on her? He wanted to kiss her? She grasped for words but none came out. Only a small whimpering, desperate sob.

His eyes had not let go of her. They were still watching her, steadily, with hope and fear and desperation in them that belied all the casual eloquence of the simple question he had just put to her. Hardly trusting her voice, she gave a hasty smile that dissolved into an incredulous look.

“You want to kiss me?”

“I do. More than anything. May I, you think?”

“Why?” was the unexpected answer. “Why now?”

“Because . . . ” he smiled nervously, looking down and fidgeting with his hands again. “Forgive me. I’m a fool.” He took a breath and smiled again. “Miss Tournier. I am so sorry but I . . . I love you. That is why I kissed you then, and that is why I want to kiss you now.”

After swallowing hard she gave a quick bob with her head and his face broke out into a relieved smile.

“Really? You mean . . . ?”

“I . . . ” She shook her head, “I don’t know, but right now . . . yes. Oh yes!” And then she looked up into those blue eyes, wondering if her heart had been put into an empty barrel and was rolling down a steep and bumpy hill, while she waited with a fluttering stomach and a tiny bit of terror as he leaned in toward her.

Just before he was close enough for her to feel his breath on her face, he drew back a little, reaching out his hand. She took it slowly, as if uncertain whether her actions would shatter the moment, but when he closed his fingers around hers all she could hear was the sound of her heart beating. He held on to her tightly and opened his other hand, palm up. In it lay a twig of willow, twisted and braided, soft and supple from the work and moulded into a ring.

“No. I should ask you something else first. Something even more important,” he smiled hesitantly. “Will you marry me . . . Miss — Holly . . . please?”

Despite his almost overwhelming nervousness, he almost had to laugh when he saw her reaction; her eyes grew wider and her mouth dropped open as she looked from the willow ring in his hand up to his face and down again several times.

“Are . . . are you in earnest?”

“Never more so in my life, my sweet.”

Her eyes softened and she smiled the most beautiful smile he could imagine. She lifted her hand and clasped it in his; the little willow ring between their palms. When she looked at him again, there was a decided gleam in her eye and with a lift of her eyebrow, she gave him her answer.

“I will have to think about it. But you may kiss me in the meantime.”

That was all the encouragement he needed and he drew her closer as a wave of relief and happiness washed over him. There were no sharp rocks at the bottom of this waterfall after all. In her eyes he had found a calm, deep pool of still water that he would happily drown in.

“Oh no,” he said, feeling her closeness. She looked up at him expectantly, her lips already parted. “I will not make the same mistake twice. I have been so unforgivably foolish and I fear I must know now. So, madam,” he muttered as he caught a wisp of hair come loose and slowly tucked it behind her ear, “I will gamble everything, I will stake my heart. This is a package deal this time I’m afraid: will you be mine
and
let me kiss you . . . now and for the rest of your life?”

She was trembling. His closeness, the touch of his hand as he played with her hair, the sound of his voice as he whispered so softly and intimately, the look — the almost overwhelming look in his eyes. She wanted to resist, to say, “Wait! There is so much to consider” — this was so sudden . . .

But she could not tear her eyes away from his, and she could not resist what she saw in them. All she could manage was an almost imperceptible nod and a barely whispered, “Yes.”

“Oh, good,” he simply said, and then everything else was secondary.

It was just as he remembered. She smelled sweet and warm and tasted of honey and dew. Her hand never left his and he clasped it tightly to make certain she would understand he would not let go before his time — this time — and more than anything, he felt like the missing piece of a puzzle had finally been found and fitted perfectly into a very awkward and hitherto curious void within him. There was so much promise in her answer, there was so much happiness to be discovered and she would marry him. She would be his and he would be hers: to torture, to tease, to test every inch of the way and to kiss, to love, and to openly adore and enjoy and to never, ever let go.

He released her lips and rested his forehead against hers.

“Thank you,” he said. “You have made me a very happy and a very relieved man. I thought it was too late. I thought I was too flawed. I thought I had driven you away the very moment I dared listen to my heart alone.”

Holly felt as if she was dreaming. She was in his arms, and this time instead of feeling shock and surprise, she felt at home, safe and warm, like she was finally in the one place she had always belonged. The cold hurt and loneliness that she had carried within her heart since her father’s death began to loosen and thaw with his kiss.

When it was over, he was still there, speaking words she could scarcely believe, showing himself and his heart to her, unguarded and vulnerable.

“You are welcome — you are so very welcome. I should be ashamed to admit it, but what you did that day, that was not what offended me. In truth, it helped me to know my heart as well, but afterwards . . . ”

He still held onto her one hand tightly, but her other hand had somehow slid under his coat and rested on the small of his back. He felt so warm and strong and she knew she should take her hand away, but the thoughts of what had happened before made her want to hold him all the more tightly.

“But afterwards . . . you pulled away . . . you will not pull away from me again?”

He smiled and let his arms encircle her tightly.

“No, I will not. Ever. Look!”

He released her and took her left hand in his, slipping the willow ring over her finger. It was too big and it chafed against her other fingers, but he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it.

“It’s neither grand, nor valuable but it would bend, like me, around your finger for as long as you will have it. This willow will not weep, it will turn and follow and draw you back if you ever regret having sat down by its feet. That I promise you, sweetest, dearest, busiest bee of my heart.”

She smiled as she fingered the ring.

“It may not be grand, but it means the world to me.”

Everything was still around them. It seemed even the water that had been bubbling and chattering before had slowed its pace and rested. There was no wind; there were no birds, just a steady heartbeat where she rested her head against his chest that was in perfect harmony with her own still sounding in her ears. She slipped her arms around his waist, wondering if she could ever again feel as happy as she did at this moment.

Chapter 34

The Romance at Longbourn Continues

They were slowly — very slowly — making their way up the village road back to Longbourn. She was leaning on his arm, a weight he cherished, and he was doing his utmost to keep her as close to him as possible. Sometimes her head would briefly lean against his shoulder and he would stop their walk to have a better look at that sweet face so infuriatingly hidden beneath the bonnet.

Very little had, in truth, been said. He felt it was a relief for once to let his actions and expressions speak for him and to do so without control or qualms. He was delighted with the way his every true word or look caused her to reward him with the same. She laughed a great deal and sighed happily a great deal more. He used every excuse to draw her towards him and delay their return and she did not put up much resistance.

“Do you think she will forgive me?” Baugham asked when she laughingly accused him of once again employing underhanded tactics to prevent her from returning to her mother. “I have kept you out here to myself for a scandalously long time, and when I do bring you back, it is only to tell her that I will be taking you away from her for good. I believe I might truly be frightened to face her. She has had no qualms in letting me know she is already most displeased with my behaviour of late.” He kept his grip on her and despite the fact that they were in full view of the road, he slipped his arms around her.

“Ah, my love,” he sighed, pushing her bonnet back. “To think my triumph could be this great after my faults have been so grave. It is, I declare, positively immoral.”

She smiled and lifted herself on her tiptoes and kissed his lips lightly, keeping her hands on his shoulders possessively.

“I admit your behaviour has been quite vexing, and not only to Maman, but she has been equally cross with me recently, so she may not at all mind your taking me off her hands. However, this brings up a very important matter that should be discussed. Have you thought this over carefully? Are you absolutely sure this is what you want? I most likely will not make a very good wife, you know.”

He raised his eyebrows and caught hold of her waist with both of his hands.

“Discuss? Matters? Dearest, are you trying to scare me off? Here I am making violent love to you — at long last, one might add and against all my silly notions of self-preservation — and you want to discuss ‘matters’?”

He lowered his head closer to hers and brushed his lips over her cheek and temples on his way to finding her lips once again. He let his hands bring her even closer, his blue eyes intensifying as she was once more drawn to rest against him.

“No, it seems you will not make a very good wife at all, will you?” he murmured.

“I think I just told you that. Just remember that I have done my duty and warned you.”

He gave a throaty little laugh that for some reason sent a thrill down her spine.

“I rather think you will make a perfect wife . . . for me. But yes, I’ve thought this over carefully. I’ve thought of nothing else for days, and this is exactly what I want.

He rested his chin on her hair and softly asked, “Now, are there any other serious matters of import you would like to discuss, madam, before I kiss you again?”

“Actually, there is one other thing.”

“And what might that be?” he asked, tilting her chin up with his finger and teasing her mouth with his.

“Tell me why,” she managed to ask.

“Why I want to kiss you?” he teased, his breath warm on her cheek. “I thought I answered that already. I love you.”