The spinster and the wastrel (23 page)

"I am certain there is more to it than that. Come in, Sir Gerard, and tell me about it." Annette led the way to the parlor. "Lucille is out visiting. I will request the maid to bring in the tea tray."

"No, I do not need tea. I would prefer to speak with you without interruption."

She gestured for him to sit down, but he ignored it. The burning intensity she saw in his gaze kept her standing, too. Wasting no time on polite inanities about his trip, she asked, "Why did you sell Silver Shadow?"

"I told you to settle my gambling debts."

"So you did," she replied calmly. "But since I doubt

you went through that entire fortune in one Season, there must be more. Why did you sell your beloved horse instead of using the money at your disposal?"

The ghost of a smile curved his lips. "Always the direct approach for you, Annette."

"My information is more accurate then." She attempted to smile back at him, but it was a weak effort. Her heart quailed at what she might learn even as her mind would not let her emotions rule.

He sighed. "Unfortunately I did lose him to my gambling debts, but I did not lose the entire fortune."

She stepped forward and laid a hand lightly on his sleeve. "Please explain."

Although he ran his hand through his hair, he did not move away from her. "I went to a gambling hell expecting to emerge the big winner. Instead I lost. When the time came to pay off my debts, I realized I could not squander the labor of others in such a useless fashion solely for my pleasure. That was your influence. They were my debts. I should be the one to pay for them, so I sold Silver Shadow."

The explanation was simply told, but Annette felt a singing surge through her veins. She was glad she had not condemned him outright for gambling. Yes, he had gambled, but he had not frivolously spent his fortune.

"That was a very high cost," she said. "I am sorry your horse is gone."

"You are right. The price was too high," he told her. "I never intend to gamble again." He took her hands in his. "It was your influence that gave me the strength to do it. I admire you greatly."

Admire. Her smile became tight. Admiration was all she would ever have from her beloved. She, who knew

how to stretch a farthing to do the work of a penny, could make do with admiration.

She managed to be gracious. "Thank you for the compliment."

One of his hands continued to hold one of hers while his arm went around her waist to pull her closer to him. "I learned many things while I was in London."

"So you said."

The perfumed promise of the garden seemed to have drifted through the open window, for Annette smelled the flowers and heard the bird chirping from the oak in the front yard. Sir Gerard's long body pressed against hers, and she felt dangerously secure in his arms. Despite the impropriety, she made no effort to escape. She feared to name the emotion she saw burning in his eyes, but its existence caused her to tremble with anticipation.

"One of the things I learned," he said, "was how much I missed you. I needed you in London."

"I have never been to the city," she replied breathlessly. "How could I help you?"

"Because I was lonely, Annette. Were you lonely here in Upper Brampton?"

He gave her no opportunity to reply, for his lips came down on hers. He was tender, questioning, and her body responded, Yes, I missed you.

She clung to him, tasting him and feeling him beneath her hands. His shoulders, his chest, and his hair that curled at the nape of his neck, she touched them all. No longer did she care that he now knew how much she loved him. She freely expressed it.

When the kiss ended, they both were breathing heavily. In his eyes, she read triumphant exultation. A smile beamed from his face.

"You did miss me," he proclaimed.

She made no effort to deny the truth. "Yes."

"Marry me, Annette. I love you."

The words struck her to stillness. She had never thought to hear either sentence from his lips, and she stared at him dumbly.

His arm tightened around her, while one hand lifted her chin. She could not look away from his face, even if she had wanted to.

"Please, I want to you to be my wife."

"But I am not the right sort of woman for a baronet," she managed to gasp out. She dared not believe she had heard him correctly.

"You are the right sort of wife for this baronet." His thumb traced a path along her cheek. "I have acted foolishly, but you have been my guiding light. I need, no, I want you with me for the rest of my life."

"You cannot possibly love me."

His smile was tender. "Do you think so little of yourself? Do you think so little of me that I would not mean my declaration?" He shook his head. "Annette, your heart is generous towards everyone but yourself. You are a woman who inspires great love."

She blinked, not daring to believe. "But I am not pretty, and the London ladies are far more sophisticated than I."

His hand smoothed back her hair, and her head rested against his touch, savoring it.

"You are beautiful." His voice was deep with emotion. "Do not compare yourself to those society women. Their polished exteriors cover only emptiness, while you have a shining spirit that beams from within." His arms tightened around her, and he held her even closer. The warmth of him echoed the fire sparking within her.

She searched his face, seeking confirmation of his words. "Do you truly want to marry me? I do not have the money anymore. It is completely yours. You do not need to marry me."

He shook his head in tender dismay. "I was never a very successful fortune hunter for money, for my true treasure is you. You are the fortune I do not want to lose."

She saw the love in his eyes and in the curve of his lips and felt it in his grasp around her waist. With a satisfied sigh, she realized life with her beloved was in her grasp. She took his face in her hands. "Yes, I will marry you. After all, someone must help you properly use that fortune."

His eyes twinkled. "I look forward to all the causes you will espouse."

Then neither one spoke again as they kissed to seal their private betrothal promises. The birds cheeping outside provided the background music as their hearts met together in mutual love and respect. They had each found their mate, and the question of the fortune's disposal had been answered. Together they would let love manage the miser's moneybags.

While attending St. Man's College in South Bend, Indiana, Louise Bergin studied fencing, fancying someday she might write an historical novel. She also earned her accounting degree, then married an Air Force officer and had two sons and a daughter. Louise now lives in Albuquerque, New Mexico, where she is either writing her next book or cheering from the sidelines of a child's soccer game. Louise loves to hear from readers through her Web site, www. louisebergin. com.