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“I don’t care. I’ve been searching for you nonstop this past week, and I have no intention of letting you out of my sight ever again.” He stood, grabbed her waist, and lifted her to an upright position. His fingers burned through the fabric, reminding her of what she knew all too well—how much she wanted him to touch her again. Love her.
As he dragged her to the French doors that led into the ballroom, she smoothed the wrinkles from her skirts. Couples whirled by the glass, unaware of the battle going on in the darkness of the balcony.
The closer to the doors they got, the more Eleanor dug her heels into the stone. “Wait, what are you doing? Where are you going?”
“I’m taking you inside to dance with me. Twice. We’ll drink the god-awful punch, smile, and flirt. Shortly thereafter, we’ll make a public exit together. Come tomorrow, I’ll call on you and take you for a ride in the park. By noon, word of my courtship will be ablaze among every gossipmonger in the ton. In a month, I’ll propose marriage.”
“No!” She yanked free.
Eleanor walked a few steps backward, trying to collect her thoughts. He planned to marry her? Why ever would he do that? He took his chivalry too far if he thought she’d wed him over one night of passion. She’d not doom them both to a loveless marriage for society’s sake. Society remained ignorant of her fall from grace. And, truth be told, they couldn’t give a damn about her, regardless.
He advanced, thunderous fury clouding his features. “No?” His voice was deceptively soft, but she wasn’t fooled. A muscle in his chin ticked, and she could hear him grinding his teeth. “What do you mean no? Are you refusing me?”
“First of all, I don’t recall being asked.” She tilted her chin and glowered down her nose at him. No easy feat, given her short stature. “Secondly, I will not marry you out of some nonsensical sense of chivalry.”
Thomas growled and backed her into a wall. His hands rested on either side of her, and she quivered as he leaned in. His hot breath fanned her cheek. “Will you do me the honor of being my wife?”
“Why?” she whispered. “There’s no reason for you to—”
“You push me too far.” His voice held a warning in it. “You will be my wife. Even if I have to force you to Scotland to accomplish the fact. I am not above kidnapping my bride.”
She clasped his forearms and looked up at him, pleading for the words she needed him to say. “I must know! Why do you want to marry me?”
He pushed off the wall to pace in front of her, tugging on his cravat. “Because I spent the past week thinking I’d never see you again. Because every minute away from you is one I lose holding you in my arms. Because you made me feel alive again. Made me care about life.
“I don’t want to spend years being lonely and miserable. I didn’t think anyone could awaken my heart after Suzanne died, until I met you. You made me whole again. And I won’t stand by and let you walk away from me again.”
“Oh, Thomas.” She bit her quivering lip, trying to hold back tears at his words. Dare she hope he spoke true? Somehow, she doubted it. The more viable option was that he sought to be a gentleman. Time for her to be strong enough to save him from himself. “How can this be? I’m nobody. You’ve passed by me every day for years, never seeing me. You even asked me to dance a few times. Yet, you didn’t recognize me as we made love. How can I believe you need me to live? Your honor can rest easy. You owe me nothing.”
“I owe you everything,” he vowed.
“No, you don’t.” Her voice broke on the last word. She needed to leave his presence before she drowned herself in pitiful sobs. She sought to ease his conscience, not make him feel worse. “I’m leaving now. Please don’t follow me.”
When she was halfway across the balcony, and almost free, he asked, “You said you loved me. How can you leave me if that’s true?” His voice came out in a mere whisper, but he might as well have shouted it.
She froze, tears running down her cheeks, fists clenched at her sides. Her arms shook with the desire to wrap herself around him and never let go. Taking a calming breath, she turned on her heel. His haunted eyes met hers.
She twisted her skirt, weighing her options. “I do love you. It’s why I refuse to force you to marry me. You deserve better.”
“I need you. No one could make me feel better. I know this is all sudden. I know I’ve been a fool. But, let me court you. You can take as long as you’d like to decide if I'm worthy to be your husband. Give me time to show you my intentions are true. You’ll see how much you mean to me. And you’ll doubt me no longer. Just give me a chance.”
His impassioned plea broke through the wall surrounding her heart, the bricks tumbling with a loud bang. He meant his words—wished for her to be his wife. What started as a one-night stand had turned into much, much more. Eleanor threw a silent prayer of thanks up to the starry sky, making sure to include thanks to Madame Eve. The wonderful woman who somehow had managed to make all her dreams come true.
She returned her attention to Thomas and nodded, incapable of speaking. A smile broke out across his gorgeous face. She couldn’t get over the fact that he belonged to her.
With a joyous cry, he sprinted across the balcony, sweeping her into a tight embrace as he kissed her. Her fingers twined in his hair, her slipper clad feet dangling in the air as his palms lowered to her buttocks to pull her closer.
When the muted sound of a conversation broke through the silence, they broke apart, laughing at each other’s exuberance.
He kissed her nose and then lowered her until her feet touched solid ground once more. She preferred them in the air, herself.
He struck a dandy’s pose, holding out his arm. “So, my lady, shall we enter and give the gossipmongers something to keep them up all night?”
Eleanor beamed at him and slid her hand inside the crook of his elbow. “Why, yes, my lord. Please lead the way.”
“Anytime, my dear. Anytime.”
Indeed, all heads turned to them as they entered the ballroom. Echoes of “who is she?” filled the room, making Eleanor and Thomas smile as the orchestra struck up a minuet.
