Moondrops (Love Letters) (11 page)
“For not wanting the money. For not being like every other woman I’ve ever met—including my mother—who thinks money and social position is more important than…well, more important that what really matters.”
Now it was her turn to study him, and he remained as still as she had. Was he as weary of fighting the moods of his body as she had grown from arguing with hers? Did men have such strong urges?
Memories of their last meeting reminded her that men did, indeed, face the trials and urges of their bodies. Heat crept up her neck.
She said the first thing that came to mind. “Emmaline said you are a duke.”
Hugh pursed his lips and looked like he might not respond. Then, a nod. “I am. Does that matter?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Not at all. I am merely making conversation, since it is evident you refuse to leave.”
The reason for adding the last bit eluded her, probably because there was no reason for it. The words just tumbled from between her lips, unbidden and unexpected. Hugh’s brow rose sharply and his lips quirked, a pairing that kept her spellbound.
“Do you want me to leave, Elise?”
She almost refused to answer. He
had
left, hadn’t he? He had taken off from Essex, had been gone for weeks, had…
“No,” she whispered.
Damn hurt pride—she didn’t want him to leave. Not even if it meant running the risk of his abandoning her when he’d gotten what he wanted out of her.
“I’m not your father.”
“No.”
“And you know why he left, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“So you know he didn’t abandon you. And, despite what you think you know, not all men are after one thing only. Some men—and I’m not naming any names here, mind you—but some men have also learned a lesson or two recently. The differences between women like my mother and a woman like the one in front of me have become very clear. Crystal clear, in fact.”
He reached an arm around her and nudged her closer. It didn’t take much pulling on his part. Elise stepped forward, into the space created between Hugh’s spread legs.
Safe, she thought. Finally, a safe place.
“Elise, I’m sorry I—”
Boldly, she placed a soft finger on his lips.
“No apologies. We both made snap judgments. We both…”
He tugged her closer, until her breasts flattened against his wide chest. Elise felt his heart beating, a tandem rhythm to the one galloping madly in the center of her chest.
“We both made mistakes,” he finished with an apologetic shrug. “I don’t intend to make any more. Not where you’re concerned, anyhow. I’m under your spell, just like the oysters captivated by the moon.”
“You know the legend?”
Hugh nodded, and this time when a dark curl fell over his brow she pushed it back into place. And she kept her fingers in the mop of curls, where they felt right at home.
“I do,” he said with a smile. “Your father and I spoke about it often. We talked about…”
His words trailed off and she immediately knew why.
“He told you about my mother.”
He did not need to reply. The truth was written in his gaze.
“I’m not my mother.”
“No, you’re not.”
Their breathing synchronized as they stared into each other’s eyes. Promises unspoken, wishes waiting to be filled and dreams turning into realities melded their gazes.
Finally, Elise could not stand it. “What are you looking at? Thinking about? Hugh, you can’t keep me waiting.”
“I hope I’m looking at my future wife. And I’m thinking we’re going to do better with our children than our parents did with us.” He paused, then grinned. “Well? Elise, I’ve just, in a roundabout manner, I’ll admit, proposed. You can’t keep me waiting. What do you say? Will you marry me?”
Elise’s heart melted. “Yes! A thousand times, yes! Now, kiss me before I swoon.”
He tightened a protective arm around her waist, dropped his mouth and claimed her lips with his.
There would be no swooning—now or later.
Love had a way of holding people up, and Elise knew it would carry them, always.
A word about the author...
Sarita Leone had two dreams when she was a little girl. She wanted to be happily married, and she wanted to be an author. Dreams come true, because she accomplished both goals. When she's not busy writing, Sarita enjoys traveling, hiking and dancing beneath the stars.
Sarita has a blog called From the Heart at:
a website at:
and a Facebook page. She loves to hear from readers!
Thank you for purchasing
this publication from The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
For other wonderful stories of romance,
please visit our on-line bookstore at
For questions or more information
contact us at
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
To visit with authors of
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
join our yahoo loop at