The Kiss (40 page)

She wrapped her arms around herself and for the last time imagined him coming toward her. It had been her favorite dream—the image of him rowing a boat toward her had sustained her through the years. But she realized now it had been such a silly, far-fetched fantasy.

She no longer needed dreams to make her happy. Trehallow made her happy. The last two weeks had proven that. She had a beautiful place to live, which she would rebuild and make prosperous once more. And she would repay him. And when she was done she would throw away all those endless lists.

She was going to live life, not plan it.

She leaned forward.

There was something moving in the swirling mist. She opened the door and squinted into the night.

God, it was he.

Her reaction to the reality of her dream was nothing like anything she had imagined in the past. There was no warm, dreamy excitement enveloping her. There was no feeling of unbearable joy.

There was simply sheer panic, while her heart raced within her.

She just couldn't trust herself to hold back any more. She wasn't sure she could be noble. She feared she'd be unable to rely on sensible platitudes when he was before her in the flesh.

She tried to remind herself of the certain misery she would face being with a man who did not love her passionately. She had been in the exact reverse situation when she married Anthony—and it had been next to impossible, the single evening they had shared.

If she gave in to her dreams, they would both have to pretend for the rest of their lives. She would have to pretend she was less in love than she was and Quinn would have to pretend he loved her more than he did. It would be intolerable.

The full moon glittered a path on the wavelets. Long moments later the boat hit the tiny island and Quinn secured his boat next to hers.

Her heart in her throat, Georgiana quickly seated herself on the bench, the only other piece of furniture in the tiny house other than the pallet and a small table.

The shadow of his giant hawkish form fell across the doorway. She could hear his labored breath and then she breathed in that evocative scent—rosemary and sage and cedar and
hint.

She spread her fingers wide, gripped her knees, and stared at her hands.

"Georgiana..."

She heard the sound of the door closing softly, his footfalls coming toward her. And all at once he was crouched in front of her and she saw his hands covering hers and she closed her eyes against the sensations it caused.

"Georgiana, won't you look at me?"

She could not.

He sighed. "For so long people have suggested I have a certain talent for negotiation, of easily finessing difficult situations to the best resolution." He stroked her work-worn hands. "But, in this case, I'll admit that I'm terrified of making a mistake, of not expressing myself clearly, of not convincing you. And so, I've made a list..."

"A list?" She concentrated on keeping her voice even. "A list of what?"

"A list of all the reasons why you must marry me."

"No, please," she said, her voice raw. She closed her eyes. "I beg you."

"Georgiana, I must tell you. I only wish I'd had more time to fashion a more eloquent list. But I feared I wouldn't find you and I was very worried. And I couldn't stand the thought of you not knowing these things right away."

"Not knowing what?" She finally raised her head and looked at him. He was as achingly handsome as always. There was nothing remarkable to any one of his features, but it was the arrangement of them—the broad forehead with the even hairline, the high cheekbones with gaunt cheeks below, the straight nose, noble profile, and the hint of a cleft in his chin—that created such an unforgettable face.

"All the reasons I need you." He reached up and moved a lock of her hair from her eyes. "Actually, that's not what I meant to say. It's a list of all the reasons I
want
you."

Her breath hitched as he extracted a wrinkled paper from his greatcoat pocket and a rose fell to the ground.

She picked it up.

"Oh, that's for you, although I know it won't do much for my cause. You never seemed overly impressed by all the others I left at your door."

Her breath caught. "It was you?"

"At first I thought I was bringing them to bring you some joy. But now I realize there was something more to it. I kept arriving later and later in the day, hoping you would catch me and it would endear me to you." He stopped and looked back down at the list.

A lump formed in her throat.

"Well, then, first." He cleared his throat. "I've always admired your character above everyone else's. You are honest, hardworking, extraordinarily gifted with animals and children. You're courageous, generous, kindhearted, and you try to find goodness in everyone and everything."

He gazed at her for a moment and then continued. "Second, you are
beautiful."
He held up a staying hand when she tried to speak. "No, you are more than that. If I could only describe what I saw, what I felt, when I saw you standing in this lake, water dripping off your shoulders, and off the ends of your braids and eyelashes, and well, everywhere else. I cannot imagine anyone ever tempting me as you did at that moment and every moment after."

"Quinn, I appreciate your kindness in telling me all this, but I know why you're here and I would really prefer that you stop now."

"And why do you think I'm here other than the fact that I am trying my very hardest to convince you to marry me?"

She rubbed her eyes in weariness. "Because Grace has left and Ata has probably shown you that nonsensical letter. And now you think I expect a proposal and you don't want to disappoint me. But Grace was wrong and I am perfectly happy. How could I not be, at Trehallow? And you provided it all for me. I know it. And it is more than was ever expected in my wildest dreams. I shall be content there for the rest of my life."

"Just listen, please?" When she did not respond, he pursed his lips and lowered his gaze to the page, which appeared to tremble slightly before he slowly crumpled it and threw it across the room and gripped his forehead with his hands.

"I told you it isn't necessary."

He grasped her arms and pulled her up to stand in front of him. He dragged his fingertips up her arms, past her shoulders and neck to cup her face. "Georgiana ... I love you. I'm in love with you."

"No," she whispered. "Don't lie to me. Oh, please don't."

"I love you. And I don't care if Anthony is first in your heart. I don't care if you only dream of him at night. It will be enough to hold you in my arms during the day and each night before you fall asleep."

Something made a
cheep-cheep
sound, but he kept talking without pause. "I know that you at least care for me—that you love me—even if it is not the same sort of passion you reserve in your heart for him. I know I sound like a wretched sod, but you see, Georgiana, I just don't care anymore. All I know is that I don't want to live my life without you by my side. I don't want to wake up each morning without your exquisite face on the pillow beside mine."

She exhaled when she realized the pain in her side was a hitch she'd gained by not breathing.

"And I shall promise to never say an unkind word about the man you've so faithfully loved."

"You know," she said finally, "you didn't have to say all that."

"I don't underst—"

"When I saw you coming across the pool I tried to tell myself I could refuse you. But in my heart I knew I would be too tempted and I wouldn't be able to turn you away again. All you had to do was simply insist that you would not take no for an answer. You didn't have to add all the trimmings. My heart has always been yours. I told you my feelings in the dell."

"Your loyal friendship has been something I've cherished my whole life."

"Damn you, Quinn," she whispered. "This has absolutely nothing to do with friendship."

He paled. And she saw for the first time the raw vulnerability of the great man before her.

She gazed into his haunted eyes. "I've been in love with you since the very first time I saw you. I was herding sheep and you came over a hill and smiled and suddenly I couldn't feel the rain that had started to fall. And ... and after that it just got worse. A lot worse."

He pulled her roughly into his arms and rested his cheek on her head. "Tell me," he pleaded. "Please, tell me. I need to hear it all."

She felt him take a shuddering breath. "As every year passed a little bit of hope died—the hope that you would one day come to love me. The more I tried to impress you, the more I fell in love with you. I knew you would only ever look at me as a silly young girl—that my feelings were futile. And then when we became older I realized that what I felt for you, Anthony felt for me. And he saw how much I loved you. It tortured him to know that my heart was yours, not his. I finally understood it all the day of the accident, when I told him I wanted to retrieve a falcon nestling for a birthday gift for you since you didn't have one of your own and you loved them."

"What are you saying?" His voice was hoarse and he had pulled back to stare at her.

"The bird was for
you.
Anthony admitted to me later that you warned him the tree was unsafe but he had planned to save me if I fell. He was right beneath me. He had thought it would endear him to me. I know," she said. "The ridiculous machinations of a besotted fourteen-year-old mind at work. But you see, I was just as besotted by you, so I understood. And I forgave him."

He had a pained expression and she stroked his roughened face. "What is it?"

"I was not as generous as you. I never forgave him for telling his father it was my fault."

Pain flooded her. "No. Please tell me he did not—"

"It is over and done with, Georgiana," he interrupted and shook his head sadly. "I only tell you this because there should be no more secrets between us. And I understand now why he did it. If he felt half the anxiety I feel right now, I can understand his desperation to have you for himself."

They were inches apart and he cradled her head with reverence and rained kisses on her until she couldn't speak with the emotions roiling inside. She closed her eyes and tilted her head until warm lips covered her own. A storm of emotion gathered and almost broke until a vague sound intruded.

Cheep-cheep-CHEEEEP.

She drew away abruptly. "What is that?"

He eased open one side of his greatcoat. A small bundle of white down was revealed and a tiny black beady eye stared at her. Hungrily.

"Oh my Lord," she breathed. "Where did you find him?"

"He's yours." He slipped off his greatcoat, revealing a dark blue coat, which was slashed in numerous places. "I retrieved him from the cliffs as a peace offering. I'm so sorry for everything I accused you of, Georgiana."

The baby raptor peeped again.

"He's hungry," Georgiana murmured.

"No, he's not. I fed him almost an entire horse before coming." He smiled, a look of intense love spreading across his features as he gazed at her, and Georgiana felt herself being swept away by a current of desire. She longed to rush back into his arms.

But he lowered himself to the bench to make a nest of his greatcoat and placed the bird in the middle. And watching his care of this helpless bird, she realized it wasn't his scent or his voice that had always mesmerized her. It was his generous spirit.

"He's just impatient," he said, straightening.

"For what?" Georgiana asked shyly.

"He wants to fly," he whispered, then nuzzled Georgiana's neck lovingly. "And I know just how he feels.
Come to me, Georgiana. Please."

Those words . . . the ones she had wished for, for so long. They caressed her senses.

He kissed her then, not bothering to wait for an answer. And she was swept into a maelstrom of pure yearning. His mouth toyed with her lips, drawing long kisses from her, one after another, until she wasn't sure when one kiss ended and the next began.

She reveled in loosing all the fierce love she had hidden from him over the years, and he accepted it from her like a starving man and returned it measure for measure. The taste, the touch, the scent of him called forth a great roaring within her to answer his demands.

He drew his mouth over the column of her neck down to the edges of her simple gray gown, stroking his hands down her slender frame as if to reassure himself that she was there for him. It was as if he wanted to imprint her form in his mind while she twined her fingers in his hair.

He tugged at her gown and all the trimmings underneath until everything lay in a pool at her feet so he could lay claim to the sensitive skin he couldn't seem to stop tasting. And all the while, his warm hands touched her, stroked her, petted her, with an almost desperate need to give her pleasure.

All of a sudden he stilled. "What was that?"

A loud mewling came from across the lake.

With the last of her rational thought, she leaned forward to help him ease off the rest of his clothing. "Your cat."

"My what?"

"You heard me. She's been bawling at every corner of Trehallow ever since you disappeared. No one can sleep for all the noise." She delighted in caressing him freely and stroking his hair. "So I brought her here to be with you."

"Well at least one of us is not afraid to tell everyone how we feel." He leaned back and smiled at her. The kind of smile she had loved in their youth. He then grasped her hand from his head and brought it to his lips. "Georgiana, you must promise me you'll never hide your feelings, your wants, your needs from me ever again."

"All right." She paused. "I want you to kiss me."

"Of course, my darling."

"And I need you to love me as I do you."

"There's no question."

"And finally, I want us both to make things right for Grace. I don't know how, and I don't know—"

"I'm leaving with Ata much sooner than I can bear the idea of being parted from you."

"You know you're becoming remarkably skilled at interruption."

"And this is my favorite method ..." He trailed more kisses down her shoulder and nipped her. "Oh God, I can't stop. You're like springtime and rain and a rose garden at night—and I don't ever want to let go of you ever again."