She watched every word form on his lips, mesmerized by the strength and conviction behind them.
“No, they are everything that is real. For the first time in my life, my kisses are full of meaning. Perhaps you should use a different quote fromAs You Like Itand askmeto marryyou.”
She really shouldn’t ask. It didn’t matter. The answer to marriage was an absolute no. She would not trust a man of the ton ever again. They were full of falsehoods and lies. Yet, she was unable to stop herself from her query. “If I were to ask, what quote would I use?”
Simon cleared his throat, batted his eyes and pursed his lips in what a Shakespearean actor would claim was the visage of a snobbish woman of the ton. The fact that their lower bodies were still entangled and his arousal was driving her mad with longing deep in her core, did not help his portrayal of her. The expression on his face was everything his hard masculine body was not. “‘I must tell you friendly in your ear,’” he bent over and whispered, “‘Sell when you can,’Simon. ‘You are not for all markets.’”
She laughed and leaned into him, resting her head on his chest as she rubbed the front of his shirt. She had never truly admired his form while she bathed him in his sick bed. That had been an act of caring, not admiration, but now, feeling the hard lean muscles across the wide expanse of his chest and hearing the strong, steady rhythm of his heart against her ear made her want to explore more of this man in a way she had never done before.
Except what made her want him more than anything, was the unique bond they shared. The ease in which they spoke. The arguments they couldn’t seem to avoid and the manner in which they had each cared for the other, without expecting anything in return. “We are perhaps the only two persons on earth to appreciate such a proposal, and yet, that is hardly a proper proposal of marriage.”
“Why not? A gentleman goes on the marriage mart just as a lady does.”
She snorted. “That is utter drivel. Have you been to a ball, my lord? Young ladies are carted out in hordes every season by their mamas and papas, with their hair curled just so, their dresses all virginal white, and manners rapped into their knuckles at a young age so that they may catch the eye of gentlemen nearly twice their age who are inspecting them as if they are cattle. And then a contract is signed between the father and the groom, andthe young lady is handed over to the gentleman with only a few final words from her parents.”
“I’m afraid to ask what that final conversation might entail.”
“‘Don’t come back.’”
His chin drew back in horror. “Even my father wouldn’t say that, and he had no scruples whatsoever.”
“My sister Edeen has been volunteering at a home for jilted brides and wives. A lady has no say in whether or not she marries, nor does she have a say in what happens to her after her marriage. The discarded ladies count their blessings that they escaped before they were put in Bedlam.”
His brow drew down, hooding his beautiful brown eyes, that were like deep rich caramel in this lighting. “You will always have a say, and you will have your own money as well.”
“You can’t give me my own bank account.”
“If I could I would, but I will give you a weekly allotment of jewelry for you to sell as you please, on top of your more than generous pin money you may stash at will.”
He was too good to be true. “And my current holdings, the funds I have from my dowry?”
“Will be written into the marriage contract as your funds. I do not require any of it.” He searched her face as if he feared her answer. “Is that a,yes?”
She lifted her head and spoke to the man she loved more than she had realized before that moment. “How is it that a gentleman of the ton, an earl who was pursued by countless women, who is holding me in his arms and stealing my heart with Shakespearean insults cannot be certain of his own worth?”
“That is precisely why the quote is perfect for you to say to me. You, Caillen, are so above me in station.”
Caillen pulled away. “Please don’t ask me, Simon.”
He reached for her hand, pulling her closer than she wanted to be, and yet not close enough. “I was a rogue, I’ll admit, but that was before I met you.”
“That is exactly what a rogue would say,” Caillen started to back away, but he stayed her with a hand to her cheek.
“That is exactly what a man says to the woman whom he wants to spend the rest of his life with. The woman he wants to help raise his children.”
“I can’t have children.”
“We have four children under this roof right now who need both of us.”
“And if William has more bastards scattered across the city?” She deliberately used the word she swore she would never use to make him understand exactly how ugly being married to her could be.
“Then the more the merrier. You forget my upbringing, Caillen. My siblings are just as much my mother’s children as I am. How could I view any child we chose to bring into our household as anything less?”
“I’m sorry,” she said, and for the first time in a long time, she honestly was. She was sorry she couldn’t trust his heart to be true. She was sorry she would not spend the rest of her life sleeping in a bed next to him. She was sorry they would not share Shakespearian barbs until they were old and grey, but most of all, she was sorry for the pain she saw flash in his eyes just before he put on the protective mask he used so well.
“Ah, ‘frailty, thy name is woman,’ and not mine heart.” Simon sketched a deep bow before her and then turned and walked out.
It was only when she stood alone, with the crackle of the fire as her only companion, that a tear trickled down her cheek. He had quoted Hamlet not to insult her, but to tell her his heart would always be true.
