The Runaway Duchess (26 page)

He
listened without question, his face expressionless save the darkening of his
eyes when she divulged the duke’s involvement.

“Crane
will never plague you again,” he vowed when she was finished. “You have my
word.”

Charlotte
did not ask what he intended. That chapter of her life was closed, and she was
ready for the next to begin. Whether Gavin liked it or not she was going to
tell him exactly how she felt. She knew he loved her. She
knew
it.
Whether he chose to share his own feelings would be up to him. Her depth of
love for him would remain unchanged either way, and having faced down a man
drowning in the depths of insanity she rather thought telling her own husband
she loved him would be quite easy by comparison.

“Gavin,
I have been meaning to tell you—”

“Charlotte,
there is something I must say—”

Wide-eyed
they stopped speaking at the same time, and Charlotte laughed. “Go on,” she
said, gesturing with her free hand. The other was tucked snugly against Gavin’s
chest. She rested her head comfortably on his pillow, breathing in his scent, a
scent that had become as familiar to her as her own.

Gavin
leaned up on one elbow. He stared down at her, his expression softened by the
light in his eyes, and said, “I know what I am and I know what I am not. I am
not a high born lord, no matter how hard I strive to play the part, and I know
I do not deserve a high born lady as my wife.”

“Oh,
for goodness sake—”

“Hush.”
His scowl was fierce and completely feigned. “I am speaking, woman.”

“Woman,
is it?” One russet eyebrow arched. “Say that again and we’ll see if you can
speak without a tongue in your mouth.”

He
grinned. “You take down one butler and turn blood thirsty. The poor man never
had a chance.”

“He
didn’t, did he?” she agreed happily. In the light of day with Gavin by her
side, she felt as though she could have taken on a hundred Dobson’s. “But go
on. I am sorry for interrupting.”

Gavin
tugged on her hair, now contained in one long braid that looped over her
shoulder. “Where was I?”

“You
were telling me how you do not deserve me. Which is positively absurd. I could
have been a duchess, you know, and if titles and status meant a farthing to me
I would be one now. But I am not. I am not because a handsome stranger came to
my rescue and swept me off my feet. You are not a lord, Gavin. You are a
knight. A knight who rescued a damsel in distress.”

He
snorted. “I am about as much of a knight as you are a damsel in distress.”

“You
do not think I am a damsel?”

“A
red haired hellion more like it.”

She
bared her teeth and struck him lightly on the arm. “Be nice.”

“I
am trying. You are making this exceedingly difficult.”

“I
am making what difficult?”

Gavin
grimaced. “I am trying to tell you that I love you, but you won’t be quiet
enough for me to get the words out.”

For
the first time in her entire life, Charlotte was shocked into true and absolute
silence. Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. Then, to her utter
humiliation, she burst into tears.

“Charlotte.”
All of the blood drained from Gavin’s face. “I did not mean to upset you. I…
Please stop crying.”

“You
– you – you
love
me,” she wailed.

“I
do. I mean, I don’t, not if you do not want me to. You do?” he asked
uncertainly when she nodded her head frantically up and down. “Then why are you
crying?”

“Because
I am so h-h-happy.” Hiccupping, Charlotte used the edge of the sheet to blot at
her face and took a deep, shuddering breath. “I love you too. I have loved you,
almost since the beginning.” It felt as though something were blooming inside
of her chest. Something bright and beautiful and oh so perfect. Smiling through
what remained of her tears she nestled into the crook of his arm. “Even when I
was so angry at you I could scream I still loved you. You make me very angry
sometimes,” she confessed in a low whisper.

“You
make me angry as well.”

“I
do not suppose that will change.”

“No,
I do not suppose it will.”

Wanting
to say everything that was in her heart, she gazed up at him in earnest. “And I
truly do not care that you are not a lord. That does not matter to me. It never
did. I love you for who you are, not what you are. If you never worked another
day in your life and I had to – to bake bread I would do it with a smile on my
face, as long as you were next to me.”

Gavin
rubbed his chin. “If you know how to bake bread, why am I paying for a cook?”

“You
are impossible.”

“But
you love me,” he said with a contended sigh.

“But
I love you,” she agreed. “Every stubborn, disagreeable inch of you.”

“And
I love every stubborn, disagreeable inch of you.”

In
the end, it was not the perfect declaration of undying love Charlotte had always
dreamed of. But it suited her far better, and in the years that followed when
their stubbornness led to arguments and their arguments to fights and their
fights to lusty bouts of lovemaking, she often thought of that morning and was
content in knowing that even if given the chance, she would not have changed a
single word.

THE END