Chloe by Lyn Cote

pretty good idea of what your parents are like. I don’t have much, if any, respect for them. If I were their son, I’d have left home at eighteen and never returned. So I know what your main goal is.”
    “Why are you bringing all this up?” Chloe didn’t seem able to stand still. She tucked her hands in the folds of her elbows and fidgeted.
    “Because I want to offer you a second option.” Roarke steeled himself, pressing his spine against the rough bark.
    Chloe made patterns in the wild grass and clover with the pointed toe of her white shoe. “What do you mean?”
    “Marry me, Chloe.” He said the words and then felt as if two large hands had grabbed him and were shaking him out like a tablecloth.
    “But, Roarke, I’ve pledged myself to Theran.” She took a step back, looking shocked. “
You
brought me his letters.”
    He understood her point. “I know, but I still think you’re marrying him less from love and more from your own motive. You want to get away and Theran presented himself and obligingly proposed. How could you resist?” A warbling oriole flitted from one branch to another overhead and a breeze rustled green leaves. Chloe worried her lower lip before she replied, “I don’t think you mean to insult me, Roarke. So I’ll take this as concern. Theran is a good man. You don’t have to worry about me. He’ll take care of me.”
    Roarke stared at her without blinking, imprinting the way she looked in the early dusk. Her starched muslin sleek over her slender, enticing figure and the hat so artfully begging him to come closer, lift it, so he could see her whole face, taste her unrouged lips. “This has nothing whatever to do with Black.”
    “How can you say that? I’m going to marry him.” She swallowed. “Tonight.”
    “Why? In Baltimore, I can leave you and Minnie at a hotel. Nothing could be more proper. Then I’ll go meet him alone. I’ll tell him that you’ve changed your mind. You won’t have to face him. I’ll take care of it.”
    “You make me sound like a coward.” She stared down, still toeing the grass. “You think I’d promise to marry a man and then ask another man—” Her voice gathered momentum and strength. “—to go and tell him I’m not going to marry him. That I’m marrying the man carrying my message. What kind of girl do you think—”
    In one swift move, he abandoned the tree trunk and captured her in his arms. “I love you, Chloe. I love you, your honesty, your bravery. I love you . . . and want you.” He kissed her lips, parted in shock. She tried to pull away, but he encircled her more tightly and kissed her again, nudging up the low brim of her hat. She didn’t struggle further, just remained within his arms, her breathing shallow and rapid.
    “Let me go,” she said, not looking at him. Her voice held no softness or coyness. Her face flamed.
    He released her. “I don’t want to lose you.”
    “Roarke, you shouldn’t be kissing me,” she insisted, righting her hat. “I’m an engaged woman. I gave Theran my promise.”
    “I admire you for your loyalty.” He’d expected her resistance; she wasn’t a tease. “But it’s mistaken loyalty. You’re marrying a virtual stranger. You’ve only met him twice.”
    “I’m not a jilt.”
    Another car rattled by, unseen but heard. “Engagements are broken all the time and new engagements are made.” The words he held back for so long rushed out. He couldn’t stem the flow. “I have my grandmother’s engagement ring in my pocket. I’m serious, Chloe. We can get married tonight if you wish it. I’ve wanted you as my wife for the past five years or more.”
    She took a few steps away from him over the uneven ground. The evening shadows had lengthened. “Five years? Why didn’t you ever say anything to me?” Her eyes held an uncertain mix of wonder and sorrow at his declaration.
    A mourning dove cooed unseen, echoing his sense of impending loss and his heart constricted. “I was