Her horrified gaze drank in the signs of suffering on his handsome face. A long scar, red and angry, marked one lean cheek.
A vivid memory of his leaving the estate in the company of Burnley’s burliest footmen assailed her. How
could she have missed that the marquess intended Ashcroft physical harm?
In a surge of hatred, she whirled on the man she’d been about to marry. “It’s you. You did this to him.”
Burnley stared her down with a supercilious expression. “Don’t be ridiculous, girl.”
“No, it was you.” Her voice vibrated with outrage. “It wasn’t enough to try to crush him with what you told him. You wanted to kill him in truth.”
Burnley dismissed her anger with a scornful huff. “Don’t be so dramatic, woman. Come back and finish the service. This fool’s interruption is futile. There’s no reason you can’t marry me.”
“Yes, there is,” she said steadily. “You tried to kill the man I love.”
She heard Ashcroft’s soft hiss of surprise behind her.
Burnley clearly wasn’t aware that once she found out he’d hurt Ashcroft, he lost all chance of marrying her. “Oh, for God’s sake, cease this nonsense and say your vows,” he said impatiently.
“Diana, don’t.”
Ashcroft’s voice made her turn. His face was dark and intense and serious as she’d never seen it, even when he’d proposed marriage in the glade. Before Burnley’s louts attacked him.
“He hurt you.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does.” Her voice thickened with tears.
“Don’t be a ninny, Diana,” Burnley burst out behind her. “He’s here because taking you away is the only revenge he can wreak.”
Ashcroft ignored him. “Come with me.”
Burnley’s strident voice became a distant clamor. She felt like she drowned in Ashcroft’s green eyes. For a moment, nobody else existed.
She drew in a deep breath. Her frozen heart began to beat hard and fast. She took another step, although she didn’t yet touch him.
They would have time for touching later, when they left the shadow of this place. Now was time for one word and one word only.
“Yes.”
Chapter Twenty-nine
Yes.
The word was a pure note that chimed through Ashcroft’s soul. Praise God and all his angels. Let bells ring out. Let fireworks fill the skies.
For a moment, the dark church faded away, and all he saw was light. He looked at Diana, at the joy shining in her face, and wondered how he’d reached this pinnacle.
He was going to marry this wonderful woman. He’d live with her until they were old. She was going to bear his children and turn his chilly barn of a house into a home. The world would never be cold again.
Astonishment paralyzed him. He could hardly believe that his final, reckless throw of the dice had gained the prize. He hadn’t arrived with any conviction that his last desperate effort would meet with success. On the excruciating journey down from London, he’d been grimly sure he’d fail.
Yet Diana capitulated as sweetly as the sun rose on a bright new day.
More than capitulated. She offered him her heart with a generous openness that made his own heart slam against his ribs.
He still reeled from hearing her say she loved him. He’d never expected that. Yet she owned what she felt proudly and without hesitation.