Lyssa leaned forward, hugging her knees. His arm was still around her shoulder and she did not seem to mind. “Love shouldn’t be like that,” she said half to herself.
“Too often it is.”
He didn’t remind her of Lord Grossett waiting for her and his share of her father’s fortune.
Instead, he focused on Lyssa, onwantingher. Yes, earlier in the evening he’d been kissing any willing woman…but the one he wanted, the one he’d tried not to think about was right here beside him.
And what would she taste like if he kissed her?
“You don’t believe in love?” she challenged, looking over her shoulder.
“When the moon is this full, I believe in everything,” he answered recklessly. “Besides, I’m Irish. We’re poets and fools.”
“I thought you were pragmatic?” she returned, a sign there were no more whiskey fumes in her brain.
“Reality has hardened my idealism,” he admitted.
“Not mine,” she said proudly. “I believe love,truelove, can overcomeanything. And it is worth the price. Even if you have to live in a hovel. My parents had that kind of love.”
Dear God, had he ever been so naïve? It seemed ages ago. “Why do you say so?”
“Because my mother gave up everything for my father. He was a shepherd who had come looking for work. He hadn’t home or hearth. The Davidsons hired him and he lived in the meanest conditions. However, he said the moment he laid eyes on my mother, he knew he was in love, a love he couldn’t deny even if he was poor. My mother felt the same. She believed they were destined for each other.”
To a man who had nothing, her words were like water for a thirsty soul. Still, Ian knew the world too well. “Her family did not approve.”
“Of course not. He had nothing. Her father tried to lock her in her room but she escaped and she and my father ran away to London to seek their fortune.” She was silent a moment before adding softly, “Ironic, isn’t it, that now he wants me to marry a man with money and a title?”
“Or that your mother ran away from Scotland to escape her fate, while you are running toward it.”
She sat up and turned to him. “Yes, you’re right,” she agreed thoughtfully. “And instead of allowing me to choose my own husband, he’s insisting on Robert.”
Here was dangerous ground. Ian dropped his hand from her back, warning himself to be cautious. Lyssa was romantic and what she claimed to want was not always what she wanted…except a part of him, his pride, most likely, sought to be accepted for himself, in spite of his mistakes. In spite of his failures.
And pigs might fly someday, too.
“There is no wrong in a father wanting what is best for his daughter,” he said.
“No,” she agreed quietly, and then her expression hardened. “Of course, he destroyed my mother’s memory and what they had together by marrying the duchess.”
Ian knew he shouldn’t touch it. After all, what was it to him if Lyssa insisted on portraying her stepmother as the villain? Still…“Your stepmother came down in rank to marry your father. Perhaps, there is deep love there, too?”
Her brows snapped together and her back straightened with indignation. She moved away from him. “How can you say such a thing? The duchess only married my father for his money. Her love has never been tested. And, have you forgotten she is behind the murder attempt on my life?”
“We don’t know that,” he answered—and in truth, in his gut, he didn’t believe she was. “I have no doubt that the love your father and mother had was rare and special. That’s the way itwas with my parents and my sisters would have followed their husbands to hell and back.”
“But—?” she prompted.
He smiled. How well she was beginning to know him. “But I believe there may be many different kinds of love. And while one may not be as intense as another, each is important.”
“For example?”
Of course, she would expect him to build his case. Ian picked a blade of grass and rested his arms on his bent knees before saying, “Well, there is the love of parent and the love of a child. Both are important, but not the least bit similar. Then, there is the love in a friendship. I’ve had friends I would lay down my life for and although the feeling is different, it is as strong as the love between man and wife.” He tossed the grass aside. “Each love is valid. In a remarriage who is to say which love was stronger, the love for the first or second wife? I can see your father loving your mother for being by his side. For believing in him when no one else did. Could he not love your stepmother for the same? Certainly she gave up some status in society for him. Of course, what he felt for your mother must have burned brighter. They were younger and there was much more at stake.”
She studied him a second, considering his words. Her response surprised him. “You argue your point like a barrister, stating your case while appeasing mine.”
The insightful accuracy caught Ian off guard. Unsettled, he pulled back, suddenly uncertain as to what he had revealed.
If Lyssa noticed his slight alarm, she gave no indication. Instead, she rested back on her palms and looked up at the stars. “I wish I’d known my mother when she was as young as I. My first memories of her were when she was ill. The doctors could never tell us what was wrong with her save she didn’t have the strength to leave her room. I used to believe having me had made her ill but Papa said that wasn’t true. I spent every moment I could with her. She was sick for so long…” Her voice trailed off wistfully and Ian thought he understood.
