Page 150 of A Duchess for his Family

His thumb remained against her cheek.

“Perhaps it does.”

Sophia’s throat tightened.

“But losing you tonight…”

He stopped. His eyes closed briefly. When they opened again, whatever remained of his defenses was gone.

“I cannot live half a life merely because I am afraid of losing it.”

Sophia’s breath trembled. Benedict leaned closer.

“I love you.”

The room went still. Sophia stared at him. He did not look away.

“I love you,” he repeated. “Not because Amelia and Marjorie need you. Not because Rivermere needs you. Not because you are my wife.”

His hand cupped her cheek.

“I love you because you are Sophia… my Sophia.”

Tears spilled freely now. Sophia laughed through them.

Benedict’s expression tightened with concern. “Why are you crying?”

“Because you are such a fool.”

He blinked. “That was not the response I anticipated.”

Sophia caught his face between her hands. “I love you, too.”

He went completely still. Sophia smiled despite her tears.

“I have loved you for some time, I think. I was simply considerably less efficient at denying it.”

Benedict stared at her. “You love me.”

“Yes.”

“Despite—”

“Yes.”

“You have not heard the remainder.”

“I am familiar with the remainder.”

Something like wonder entered his face. Sophia had never seen it there before. It made him look younger and less burdened. She touched her forehead to his.

“I love you,” she whispered again.

Benedict kissed her. There was nothing hesitant about it this time. His arms came around her, drawing her carefully but completely against him. Sophia wrapped both arms around his neck. His mouth moved over hers with all the tenderness he had once tried so desperately to restrain. She could feel his relief in it, his fear, his love, everything neither of them had known how to say.

When they finally parted, Sophia remained against him. Benedict pressed his forehead to hers. His breathing was unsteady. So was hers.

For several quiet moments neither spoke. Then his expression changed. Sophia recognized the faintest trace of dangerous amusement.