interest.
“Don’t move on. Stay here.”
“It would be too difficult.” She looked away.
“Why?” He let go of her.
“Because of my arm. Most times, you can’t bear to look at me, and I’m positive you wouldn’t want to marry someone you can’t stand to look at. I won’t wed out of your pity.”
He bit down on his bottom lip before answering. “Do you really think that?”
She nodded. “It’s obvious.”
Shaking his head, he silently called himself every sort of name. “That’s not it at all. I couldn’t bear to look at you because of my own guilt and shame. I’ve brought you nothing but pain, but Heaven help me, I want to marry you, Candace. Maybe it’s selfish, but I can’t bear the thought of losing you.”
“You want to marry me?” Her eyes were widened, filled with disbelief.
“We had something good going prior to the fire, didn’t we?”
Still appearing surprised, she nodded weakly. “Yes.”
Moving to the floor, he knelt in front of her. “Tell me we can find our way back there, and then move forward to a brighter, happier path. I’m sorry for all the pain and trouble that I’ve caused you in the past, and I can’t promise the future will be easy, but I won’t leave your side. I’ll love you and protect you for all of our lives.”
The sun had begun to rise, sending small streams of light into the room—enough that he could watch the tear trickle on Candace’s face and land on his hand that now covered hers.
“I need to know something first.”
“What?” He squeezed her hand, praying it was an answer he could provide.
“Tell me the truth. Does the sight of my arm repulse you?” She didn’t look at him as she asked.
Not for the first time that day, he wished he’d done things differently, talked to her before they had gotten to this point. “You are beautiful, every part of you, inside and out. I am sorry if I ever made you think otherwise.”
Her eyes met his. “I need to hear you say it.”
“No, Candace, seeing your scarred arm doesn’t bother me, nor does it change my feelings for you. What kind of man would I be if it did?” He pushed up the sleeve of her pink flannel nightgown—the satin trim was smooth against the tips of his fingers—and stopped at her elbow. Half of her scars were visible. With a single finger, he traced the worst one. He finished by placing a soft kiss on it to eliminate any lingering doubts she still maintained. “If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have those scars.”
“It’s not your fault. I don’t blame you for what happened.” She leaned over, placed one palm against his cheek and sighed. “We’ve been so silly, making our lives more difficult than they needed to be.”
“Then will you marry me, Candace? A real marriage this time, based on love.”
“Yes.” She smiled at him, the wondrous smile he’d thought he’d never again receive. “We’ll do it the right way this time, the way it was meant to be.”
He moved from the floor back to the settee. Staring at her, gratefulness overcame him, a proper sentiment for the day. “I’m glad you agree because I had an idea of how we should do this.”
Chapter Eight
Only several hours into Thanksgiving and Candace already had more to be thankful for than she ever could have dreamed. Even more so than yesterday when she’d focused on having a spirit of gratitude.
She had to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. Patrick loved her and wanted to marry her. After his sweet, chivalrous gesture of kissing her scars, she would never think again that they revolted him. They’d been so wrong in their assumptions of the other’s thoughts.
Noises from upstairs gradually increased. Realizing she was still in her nightgown, she jumped up. When she had come downstairs an hour ago, she hadn’t expected to see anyone and had planned to return to her room after getting a drink of water. She never did get her drink and didn’t have time now.
“I need
“Don’t move on. Stay here.”
“It would be too difficult.” She looked away.
“Why?” He let go of her.
“Because of my arm. Most times, you can’t bear to look at me, and I’m positive you wouldn’t want to marry someone you can’t stand to look at. I won’t wed out of your pity.”
He bit down on his bottom lip before answering. “Do you really think that?”
She nodded. “It’s obvious.”
Shaking his head, he silently called himself every sort of name. “That’s not it at all. I couldn’t bear to look at you because of my own guilt and shame. I’ve brought you nothing but pain, but Heaven help me, I want to marry you, Candace. Maybe it’s selfish, but I can’t bear the thought of losing you.”
“You want to marry me?” Her eyes were widened, filled with disbelief.
“We had something good going prior to the fire, didn’t we?”
Still appearing surprised, she nodded weakly. “Yes.”
Moving to the floor, he knelt in front of her. “Tell me we can find our way back there, and then move forward to a brighter, happier path. I’m sorry for all the pain and trouble that I’ve caused you in the past, and I can’t promise the future will be easy, but I won’t leave your side. I’ll love you and protect you for all of our lives.”
The sun had begun to rise, sending small streams of light into the room—enough that he could watch the tear trickle on Candace’s face and land on his hand that now covered hers.
“I need to know something first.”
“What?” He squeezed her hand, praying it was an answer he could provide.
“Tell me the truth. Does the sight of my arm repulse you?” She didn’t look at him as she asked.
Not for the first time that day, he wished he’d done things differently, talked to her before they had gotten to this point. “You are beautiful, every part of you, inside and out. I am sorry if I ever made you think otherwise.”
Her eyes met his. “I need to hear you say it.”
“No, Candace, seeing your scarred arm doesn’t bother me, nor does it change my feelings for you. What kind of man would I be if it did?” He pushed up the sleeve of her pink flannel nightgown—the satin trim was smooth against the tips of his fingers—and stopped at her elbow. Half of her scars were visible. With a single finger, he traced the worst one. He finished by placing a soft kiss on it to eliminate any lingering doubts she still maintained. “If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have those scars.”
“It’s not your fault. I don’t blame you for what happened.” She leaned over, placed one palm against his cheek and sighed. “We’ve been so silly, making our lives more difficult than they needed to be.”
“Then will you marry me, Candace? A real marriage this time, based on love.”
“Yes.” She smiled at him, the wondrous smile he’d thought he’d never again receive. “We’ll do it the right way this time, the way it was meant to be.”
He moved from the floor back to the settee. Staring at her, gratefulness overcame him, a proper sentiment for the day. “I’m glad you agree because I had an idea of how we should do this.”
Chapter Eight
Only several hours into Thanksgiving and Candace already had more to be thankful for than she ever could have dreamed. Even more so than yesterday when she’d focused on having a spirit of gratitude.
She had to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. Patrick loved her and wanted to marry her. After his sweet, chivalrous gesture of kissing her scars, she would never think again that they revolted him. They’d been so wrong in their assumptions of the other’s thoughts.
Noises from upstairs gradually increased. Realizing she was still in her nightgown, she jumped up. When she had come downstairs an hour ago, she hadn’t expected to see anyone and had planned to return to her room after getting a drink of water. She never did get her drink and didn’t have time now.
“I need
Similar Books
