But she recalled Seraphina’s certainty that he loved her, and the hope she’d tried so valiantly to fight back took root once more. She looked him in the eyes.
“And I love you,” she whispered. Then, stronger, “I love you, and I want to be your wife. I want to spend my life with you, and—”
Whatever she had been about to say next—truly she hadn’t a clue, for she was just spouting whatever came to her in the heat of the moment by then—was lost as he strode to her and took her in his arms. His mouth crashed down on hers, swallowing her gasp.
The kiss did not last long, however. His head rose, just a fraction, and he gazed down into her eyes. And the tenderness there made her heart sing.
“You think we have no use for you?” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “You think you are not of value? Well, listen to me now, my wonderful, incredible wife. To me, you are priceless. To my sisters, you are priceless. You are a part of this family, the glue that holds us all together.”
He smiled, and Bronwyn’s heart, which was already full with unbelievable happiness, overflowed.
“And I love you,” he rasped, his gaze caressing her, as if she were indeed a priceless treasure. “I have loved you for weeks now, and perhaps even before that. You are brilliant, and strong, and giving. And I am so damn lucky that you tumbled into my path that day.”
His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb wiping away a trail of wetness. Only then did Bronwyn realize she had begun to cry.
“I know my first proposal was a pathetic thing, and we had agreed this was to be a marriage of convenience. But you deserve so much better, Bronwyn. And so, though I’m sadly lacking a ring, I think a new proposal would be just the thing.”
Then, before she could react, he released her and dropped to one knee.
“Bronwyn,” he said thickly, his hands grasping hers tightly, “I love you. I want to spend my days making you happy, showing you how cherished you are, helping you to chase your dreams. And I want to spend my nights with you in my arms. I want to have a family with you, create a home with you. More importantly, I want to tell you, every second of every day, that you are my heart and soul. You are my life, Bronwyn. Will you be my wife in truth?”
“Yes,” she choked. And then she was in his arms.
She didn’t know how they managed to undress, they fumbled so with clasps and buttons and tapes. Finally, however, there was nothing more between them. But it was not just their clothing they had managed to toss aside. No, with each kiss, each caress, each whispered word of love, she felt as if she were breaking free from a constricting chrysalis. And when Ash gazed down at her as their bodies joined, his beautiful amber eyes free of the uncertainty and pain that had seemed his constant companion for as long as she had known him, Bronwyn felt as if her heart took wing, soaring up into the skies, with him by her side.
Hours later, as they lay sated in one another’s arms, the barest blush of dawn caressed their tangled bodies. They had not closed their eyes once during that long night, and though exhaustion pulled down on Bronwyn, she was loath to drift into slumber. She did not want this night to end, wanted to remember every second of this beginning of their lives together. Even so, a yawn escaped her lips, betraying her need for rest.
Ash chuckled, drifting his fingers over her bare arm. “Perhaps it’s best if we sleep,” he murmured, kissing the crown of her head.
“I don’t need sleep,” she declared mutinously, even as another yawn broke free. “Very well,” she muttered as his laugh rumbled under her ear, “perhaps I do. But I don’t wish to. I’m aching to tell the girls that we are all to live together as a family. It was the one thing they wanted to know yesterday that you would not tell them.”
He hugged her tighter to his side. “I wasn’t certain how you felt about me then,” he admitted thickly. “And I feared getting their hopes up. No, that’s not quite right. I feared gettingourhopes up, for I wanted it even more than they did.” He let loose a heavy sigh. “I did not think I would ever be able to tell them the truth, that I was their brother. I thought for certain they would hate me for what our father did.”
Bronwyn rose up on one elbow to gaze down at him. His hair was mussed, the beginnings of a beard shadowing his jaw, dark circles from a lack of sleep cradling his eyes. Yet his amber eyes were free of the haunting pain that had lurked in their depths since she had met him.
“They could never hate you,” she murmured. “They loved you all along. You were just so busy protecting them you could not see it.”
“I was a fool,” he rasped. “Not only did I nearly lose you in my blindness, but I also caused Nelly to believe she was at fault for me keeping my distance.”
“A bit of irony, that, for you were doing the very same thing, blaming yourself for the actions of another.” She smoothed back a stray lock of hair from his forehead, gazing at him with tenderness. “Would that there had been someone to comfort you and tell you the truth, that you were never to blame for the atrocities your father committed.”
He grasped her hand, kissing the palm. “And would that there had been someone to tell you that you are a treasure beyond compare,” he said thickly.
Tears burned her eyes, even as she smiled down at him. “How lucky we are to have each other then.”
“How lucky, indeed,” he murmured as he pulled her down for a kiss.
Epilogue
Bronwyn dipped her quill in the ink, scratching out the last bit of her latest work, before placing the quill aside and sitting back with a contented sigh. It was done. Tomorrow she would send it off to her publisher in London. And the moment it was out of her hands she would get to work on her next book.
But for now…
Standing, she stretched her aching muscles and smiled wide. For now, she was eager to seek out a certain duke.
Ash, however, was not in his study. Nor was he in his rooms. Frowning, she headed to the gardens. Perhaps the girls might know where he had gone off to.
She heard them before she saw them. Boisterous laughter and busy chattering rang through the warm summer air, Eliza’s strident voice—a tone the girl had learned from Lady Tesh, much to Ash’s open lamenting but secret joy—carrying above it all. Bronwyn rounded the hedge and spied the sprawling group. Young women and girls from all walks of life were gathered, as they did several times a week at Caulnedy, the manor house having become a sort of haven for all manner of learning. When the group spied her, a cheerful greeting rose up.