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“Yes.”
An unbearable tension wound itself around her heart. “Your Grace,” she began, curtseying, keenly aware of a few ladies making no effort to hide their unashamed eavesdropping. She blinked back the moisture in her eyes. “I am not sure I can.” The cane trembled in her arms.
“Would you like to try?” he asked in a deceptively mild tone.
His simple question, with no judgement in his eyes, had the tension seeping from her.
“And if I should stumble?”
“I’ll catch you,” he murmured, with a hint of gentleness and sensuality that sent flares of response racing through her.
“Forgive me for leaving you.”
“Elliot?”
“I walked away when I should have fought for you…even if I was fighting you and your fears. I will never renew my offer to marry because my last offer still stands until you change your no into a yes. I will never marry another unless it is you. I’ll wait on you for however long until you are ready, months, years, a lifetime. I know waiting will be a stark and lonely existence, but I know if it’s not you, my life will forever be empty. For Emma…it has always been only you. I have known and loved you for ten years, with all your complexities and strength, with all your improper wildness, and this smile. And I will love you forever.”
Someone gasped. Emma acted before she convinced herself to retreat. She turned around and leaned her walking cane along the wall, then she placed her hand in his, warmed by the approval which glowed in his eyes.
“You honor me, Emma.”
The orchestra launched into a waltz, and her heart tripped. Then she was in his arms being glided across the floor. It was a bit disconcerting, to find herself on the dance floor rather than watching from the side of the ballroom. Everything felt off balance for precious moments, and then everything felt perfect. He was so graceful in his movements. Emma's heart tumbled in delight as he swept her in a wide arch, before pulling her close.
They danced for what felt like forever, but could only be a few minutes.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, admiration warmed in his eyes. “Your smile just now…”
She laughed, and then sobered as a shaft of pain arrowed up her leg and to her lower back. Please, no. The muscles tensed and slowly locked, and dread rose inside. She faltered, forcing him to stop in the middle of the ballroom, while other couples twirled around them.
“Fo… forgive me,” she stammered.
She felt the weight of the guests’ glares upon her. They were making no effort to be discreet. Afraid to look at Elliot she tried to pull away and stumbled as a sharp cramp went through her legs. “Oh God.”
Firm hands caught her, and she glanced up into golden eyes dark with concern…and love. A sob clawed from her throat. There was no shame, just a blinding love that had her trembling. Another sharp wrench of agony and she shook in reaction. “It hurts so much,” she whispered, tears spilling down her cheek. How mortifying this would happen for all of society to witness.
And before all the duke of Hartford dropped to his knees before her, placed his hand under her ball gown and ran his strong fingers up to the muscles of her shin and up more to the flesh right above her knee.
“Hold on to my shoulders.”
She complied. The scandalous impropriety of his actions had Emma’s eyes widening. And remarkably a choked laugh escaped her when his grandmother fainted. The duke’s action was tantamount to a proposal. How ridiculous it was that before all and sundry her reputation had just been compromised. But Emma hardly cared, the only thing that mattered was that the painful cramp was lessening as his delightful fingers kneaded the tight knots in her thighs. “It has eased,” she whispered, quite aware that the room was silent.
How could they be so comfortable in their ogling she had no notion. Elliot removed his hands, careful that her ankles did not show. He stood, and with an imperious lift of his brow at the orchestra, music leapt to life. The very waltz they had been dancing.
“I fear you have been thoroughly compromised, to escape ruin we must either marry or flee to America. Would you like to continue dancing?”
She felt raw and exposed and terrified. She glanced up at him, aware that he was watching her closely, his gaze hooded, his body tensed. “Some days I feel pain so intense along my lower back and my legs I weep. I was such a mangled mess, Elliot. I have terrible scars, and on the best days, I still struggle with walking. You make me yearn for things that I'm certain I shouldn't want. A family. The hope for a child, some semblance of normalcy. I want to be strong enough to reach for the love I can see burning in your eyes, and I confess I feared you will regret your decision when the burden of my pain becomes too much to bear.”
“You had such little faith in my love?”
“No…I had such little faith in me.” Emerging from that shattering awareness, she smiled, uncaring that tears were blurring her vision. “How I hate that we spent years apart. But now I see I needed that time to grow into the woman I am now. I am glad I did not marry you when I was hurt, broken and scared of simply living. I would have ruined us with my self-doubts and fear.”
He brushed his thumb over her trembling lips. “I’ll always be strong enough to carry you when you need me,” he said solemnly. “And not because you are not capable enough, your strength humbles me and gives me hope for a future together. I love you with every part of me, Emma, and nothing could ever change that.”
She stepped into his arms, and soared, her feet barely touching the ground, for he held most of her weight with his wonderful strength. Emma knew if she stumbled, his hands would be there, strong enough to catch her, powerful enough to hold her steady if she were to falter.
“I love you, Elliot, so desperately. I choose to marry, I am strong enough to believe in your love and to be your duchess. Marry me, Elliot. Be my lover, my friend, my husband, my duke.”
His pleased laughter curled through her. And when she stumbled again, he paused, lifted her in his arms, and strode from the ballroom, uncaring of the scandal erupting in their wake. Nothing mattered to Emma at that moment either. Not the past, the fears, the scandal or what their future may hold. Just the present and the love and comfort she found in his arms. With a sigh of happiness, she rested her head on his shoulder.
