Before it’s too late , she thought desperately.
He seemed to sense her panic, for he excused them from the blacksmith and took her into the stables for privacy. Though it was dark inside, she didn’t miss his displeasure. “Have you changed your mind after we’ve come this far?”
She couldn’t give him an answer. While her heart was irrevocably lost, her head was ordering her to do the right thing. Let him go.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I can’t marry you.”
“Why?” The question was clipped, a wellspring of anger contained in a single word.
Because you don’t love me. Because you’re holding my heart in your hands, and I’m afraid you’ll break it again.
“Because I’ll never be a fitting Countess. There’s nothing but scandal surrounding me. And I care about you too much to bring that shame upon you.” She drew off the ring and pressed it into his hand, her eyes blurred with tears. “I should have told you before we left England. But I wanted so badly to marry you. It was what I dreamed of, more than anything.”
He took the ring, remaining silent for a time. She waited for him to rage at her, to complain about all the trouble she’d been. Instead, he glanced up at the rafters. “Do you remember the last time we were caught in the stables together?”
Of course she did. But why would he bring that up now? A moment later, he took her into his arms and kissed her soundly. His fingers dug into her hair, fitting her mouth to his, while he conjured up the memory of that Christmas evening, ten years ago. He dried her tears, lifting her cheek to rest against his.
“I hurt you that day, when my father forced us apart. And there will be times when I might hurt you again, without intending to.”
He drew back, his gaze solemn. “But there is something good between us. Something I never expected to find. And I think it was worth waiting for.”
He stepped back. “You’re stronger than any scandal surrounding your family name, Emily Barrow. And so am I.”
And with that, he walked toward the stable entrance. “I’ll wait for you, if you’ll have me. The way I should have waited, so many years ago.”
Nearly an hour passed, and Stephen called himself every kind of fool. She wasn’t going to come. She’d made her decision, and he was wasting the blacksmith’s time. He should have known that Emily Barrow wouldn’t let herself be used by any man.
But he wasn’t just any man. He was her friend and lover. The man who was going to change her life for the better, giving her everything she should have had all her life.
“I’ve got a lot of marriages to perform, my lord,” the blacksmith remarked, his patience wearing thin. “It’s St Valentine’s Day, and there are others waiting.”
“Let them wait.” The words contained all of his frustration, his anger at himself. Stephen didn’t care if they had to wait all night.
He wanted to marry the woman who would throw snowballs at him and break his windows. The woman who baked him ginger biscuits and kissed him softly, touching his heart as she slept beside him.
“Stephen?”
He turned to the door and saw Emily standing there alone, a vision in blue. She’d gathered up a bouquet of holly and evergreens, for there were no flowers to be had. Slowly, she walked toward him, her blond hair tucked away in a blue silk bonnet. Her eyes were wet, but she braved a smile.
“I’m ready now.”
He took her hand, relief washing over him. “Are you certain this is what you want?”
“I’ve dreamed of this, all my life. I’m in love with you, and though I may be the worst sort of Countess, I’d be even more miserable without you.”
He ignored the blacksmith and the witnesses, taking her into his arms again and kissing her. “I’m going to take care of you and your family, Emily.”
She smiled and took his hand in hers. “We’ve waited long enough. Now give me the ring and become my husband.”
Epilogue
One week later
Stephen
He seemed to sense her panic, for he excused them from the blacksmith and took her into the stables for privacy. Though it was dark inside, she didn’t miss his displeasure. “Have you changed your mind after we’ve come this far?”
She couldn’t give him an answer. While her heart was irrevocably lost, her head was ordering her to do the right thing. Let him go.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I can’t marry you.”
“Why?” The question was clipped, a wellspring of anger contained in a single word.
Because you don’t love me. Because you’re holding my heart in your hands, and I’m afraid you’ll break it again.
“Because I’ll never be a fitting Countess. There’s nothing but scandal surrounding me. And I care about you too much to bring that shame upon you.” She drew off the ring and pressed it into his hand, her eyes blurred with tears. “I should have told you before we left England. But I wanted so badly to marry you. It was what I dreamed of, more than anything.”
He took the ring, remaining silent for a time. She waited for him to rage at her, to complain about all the trouble she’d been. Instead, he glanced up at the rafters. “Do you remember the last time we were caught in the stables together?”
Of course she did. But why would he bring that up now? A moment later, he took her into his arms and kissed her soundly. His fingers dug into her hair, fitting her mouth to his, while he conjured up the memory of that Christmas evening, ten years ago. He dried her tears, lifting her cheek to rest against his.
“I hurt you that day, when my father forced us apart. And there will be times when I might hurt you again, without intending to.”
He drew back, his gaze solemn. “But there is something good between us. Something I never expected to find. And I think it was worth waiting for.”
He stepped back. “You’re stronger than any scandal surrounding your family name, Emily Barrow. And so am I.”
And with that, he walked toward the stable entrance. “I’ll wait for you, if you’ll have me. The way I should have waited, so many years ago.”
Nearly an hour passed, and Stephen called himself every kind of fool. She wasn’t going to come. She’d made her decision, and he was wasting the blacksmith’s time. He should have known that Emily Barrow wouldn’t let herself be used by any man.
But he wasn’t just any man. He was her friend and lover. The man who was going to change her life for the better, giving her everything she should have had all her life.
“I’ve got a lot of marriages to perform, my lord,” the blacksmith remarked, his patience wearing thin. “It’s St Valentine’s Day, and there are others waiting.”
“Let them wait.” The words contained all of his frustration, his anger at himself. Stephen didn’t care if they had to wait all night.
He wanted to marry the woman who would throw snowballs at him and break his windows. The woman who baked him ginger biscuits and kissed him softly, touching his heart as she slept beside him.
“Stephen?”
He turned to the door and saw Emily standing there alone, a vision in blue. She’d gathered up a bouquet of holly and evergreens, for there were no flowers to be had. Slowly, she walked toward him, her blond hair tucked away in a blue silk bonnet. Her eyes were wet, but she braved a smile.
“I’m ready now.”
He took her hand, relief washing over him. “Are you certain this is what you want?”
“I’ve dreamed of this, all my life. I’m in love with you, and though I may be the worst sort of Countess, I’d be even more miserable without you.”
He ignored the blacksmith and the witnesses, taking her into his arms again and kissing her. “I’m going to take care of you and your family, Emily.”
She smiled and took his hand in hers. “We’ve waited long enough. Now give me the ring and become my husband.”
Epilogue
One week later
Stephen
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