She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. It was too hard to think right now, to know what to say.
His expression darkened as his hand left her cheek. “Clearly you’re reluctant. Perhaps I should take that as a refusal.”
“Yes—no!”
His brows rose.
The anguished truth broke from her lips. “I don’t know what I want!”
“You require more time to come to a decision?”
She grabbed at that suggestion like a miser after gold. “Yes!”
“Then you shall have it,” he said, as calm as a placid pond on a windless day as he stepped back, while she felt as if she’d been caught in storm-tossed waves.
Yet, as he looked into her eyes, she saw a longing, an almost desperate hope. Did her answer mean so much to him? Could he truly care for her?
What of the little boy he’d been? Had she remembered only the worst of his childish behavior? Had the years that he’d been gone truly writ a change in him?
Her speculation didn’t last. It couldn’t, when he gathered her into his arms and kissed her. His mouth captured hers with heated, powerful longing.
The fervor of his passion destroyed what remained of her wine-induced languor. Her body leapt to life with his kiss, and responded with its own ardent need. Eagerly, boldly, she gathered him to her, reveling in the sensation of his strong body against hers.
His lips left her mouth, to trail along her cheek toward her ear. “I’ve thought of you every day, Constance, no matter where I was or what I was doing,” he whispered. “I remembered you sitting cross-legged in a field after the haying, with two sheaves on either side of you, like sentinels. Your hair was long and loose, and you were watching a bug in the chaff so intently, you werelost to everything around you. You reached up to brush a strand of hair from your cheek with the most graceful gesture I’ve ever seen.”
He cupped her chin gently in his calloused palm. “You were but a child then, yet I knew in my heart that you would grow up to be a beautiful, graceful woman. And finding you again, discovering you’ve become so much more than that…Even if there’d been no contract, no betrothal, I would have sought you out to be my bride. I want you for my wife, Constance, more than I can ever say. I promise to do all in my power to make you happy. Will you, Constance? Will you marry me?”
Did he love her? Could he?
“I don’t want to make the wrong decision and live to regret it,” she answered honestly, her gaze searching his face. “Can you understand that, my lord?”
“I respect your honesty,” he said, turning his head as if she’d struck him. “And I’ll continue to hope you decide in my favor.”
“If you’re always fair and generous, I believe I might” was all she trusted herself to say as she guided his head toward her. Then she went up on her toes, and brought her lips to his.
As she kissed and caressed him, as he eagerly kissed and explored her body with his hands, the last of her old hatred and bitter resentment drifted away. The tormentor of her past was gone. She could believe the days of fear and worry and having to watch every word, every look, of anticipating every shift of mood and humor, were over.
That she was free.
Excited, light-headed with joy, emboldened, she reached down to stroke the hardened evidence of his desire. Still kissing her, he groaned.
His hand found her breast and kneaded it gently as the other cupped her buttock and held her tight. Leaving his erection, she reached under his tunic, running her hand up his hot, bare skin. She encountered his nipple and brushed her fingers across it.
He broke the kiss and grabbed her hand. “Constance!”
“What?” she cried, wondering what she’d done wrong. “Don’t you like—?”
His dark eyes glittered in the dim light. “Too much, I fear. Unless you want to lose your maidenhead tonight—”
Someone’s knuckles rapped sharply on the chamber door. Constance started and jumped away from Merrick, who looked just as surprised.
“Constance? Merrick?” Lord Carrell called.
Blushing as red as holly berries, Constance adjusted her slightly disheveled clothing while Merrick strode to the door and yanked it open.
Standing on the threshold, Lord Carrell looked past Merrick. “Constance, are you all right?” he asked, running a searching gaze over her.
“She’s quite unharmed, if that’s what brought you here,” Merrick said, making no effort—or unable—to hide his frustration.
