Fanny turned sharply away from him, her shoulders trembling under the weight of her emotions.
An unexpected fear clutched at his heart and the realization that if he did not try to express himself and the things he felt for her, right now in this moment, he might lose a chance with her forever. He grabbed her around the waist and spun her to face him, keenly aware of her lush form against his. “I do not need to remember to know that I am falling in love with you.”
Shock widened her eyes. “Simon—”
“No,” he grounded out, “you will listen. I am going to keep you in that cottage for another seven days…seven months…until you understand I want to marry you because…because, Fanny, you are you. Yes, I do not remember what we had, but you remember it for us and that is enough. I might not have fallen in love with you in the same manner, but I am falling.”
Her lips trembled. “But I want that man too…the one who loved me so much he read such beautiful poems to me and combed the woods and hills to bring me the most wonderful wildflowers and herbs daily.”
He choked. “I courted you with herbs?”
“You did, Simon,” she whispered. “You also taught me to swim and how to ride astride. You listened to all the poems I dabbled with and courted me with songs.”
Simon cupped her cheeks, and he brushed his mouth slowly, deliberately across hers with tenderness. “Now I want to take you to balls and sweep you off your feet in a waltz. I want to ride across the lanes of the estate with you and row on the lake. I want to play chess for long hours into the night. I want us to teach our daughter to swim, right here in this lake. I want more children with you. These things are all new and wonderful. I do not need the past, for I have the present, Fanny. And I will damn well have the future with you. Marry me, please.”
A wistful expression lit her eyes, and she touched his mouth with fingers that shook. “I shall marry you when you love me.”
“For bloody sakes, Frances Fairbanks!”
“Do not swear at me, Simon Gracely. Falling into love and loving is not the same, and I—”
He cupped her chin tenderly. “Do you love me?”
Her chin wobbled but she took a deep breath, lifted her shoulders, and took several moments.
“Please, Fran, tell me.”
“I never stopped loving you. I thought you died, but every day I spoke to you as if you were there beside me. In the evening I bid you good night, and in the morning I greeted you. They told me you were gone, but every day I longed for you. Every day I dreamed and prayed and hoped, even when I knew it was impossible, that the news had been a dreadful mistake. And then one day, I saw you in a garden…and all my dreams came alive,” she said softly, tears spilling over.
Except you do not remember me, lingered unspoken on the air.
“Do you still love me though I seem different?”
“I love you even more,” she said, “for I now know another side of you…and though it is different…I really like you like this.”
He tightened his arms around her waist, pulling her closer, savoring the vibrant, feminine warmth and feel of her. “Then give me a chance, Frances Fairbanks, give me another chance to fall in love with you.”
* * *
“Yes,”Fanny whispered, dazed, pushing herself over the edge on which she had been standing. The cold, doubt, and uncertainty fled, and only warmth pierced through her body.
Simon closed his eyes, relief filling his eyes. He lifted her face to his and kissed her with ravenous need.
Give me another chance to fall in love with you.
Those passionate words did not come from a man who was cold and unfeeling, but from the heart of a gentleman who did not want to lose her. Only seven days had passed since they got reacquainted, and she was willing to give him seven more months if required. She loved him so very much, and here he was, in her arms, kissing her as if she were the reason he existed. Fanny was happy. It was a heady, glorious feeling.
Another chance at love. Another chance at happiness.
“Yes, Simon,” she murmured against his mouth, “I will marry you.”