Page 81 of Lady Arabella’s Reluctant Hero

She pulled her head back to look up at him. "Do you— Do you believe me? I just wanted to protect Lucy and you, and⁠—"

"Of course I believe you." The intensity in his voice caught her off guard.

She found herself gaping at him, temporarily speechless.

"You are the most impossible woman I have ever met," he said suddenly. But there was no anger in his eyes. Only something that looked a bit like amusement. Or maybe…tenderness. "You are stubborn and reckless," he continued. "And you ran away to face danger on your own because you decided that protecting my daughter was more important than your own life."

"John—"

"I'm not finished." His eyes were dark and fierce as he reached up to cup her face in his hands. "You told me in the duchess's drawing room that you weren't the right woman for me. Do you remember? You said you weren't gentle or kind or any of the things I was supposed to want. And you were right. You are not gentle. You are not at all what I was looking for⁠—"

Her breath caught. A protest was on the tip of her tongue, but then⁠—

"But you are what I want." His voice dropped. "I tried to tell myself it was duty. That I wanted to protect you because it was the right thing to do. But it's not duty, Arabella. It was never duty. I want you. All of you. The stubbornness, and the cutting wit, and the terrifying willingness to throw yourself into danger for people you love. I want every impossible part of you."

She was crying again. She wasn't sure when it had started and she couldn't seem to stop. Because this was everything she'd wanted—and everything she'd feared.

She'd thought through the repercussions of her actions before she'd gone to the duchess with her plan. But John. Dear, wonderful, perfect John…

Clearly he had not thought this through.

He was overcome with emotion after a dangerous situation, but once reason returned there was no way he would choose her. "You—you can't," she managed.

He stroked a thumb over her cheek. To her surprise, his lips twitched with amusement. "I cannot want you? Why not?"

"Because—" Her throat threatened to close up on her completely. "My reputation… That is, when I testify⁠—"

"I don't care," he interrupted.

She shook her head. He didn't understand. "I'll be ruined. I— Everyone will know and⁠—"

"And I do not care." He said it slower this time and with eyes practically dancing with amusement.

She frowned. Then she sniffed. "You should care. Lucy⁠—"

"Lucy sent me here. Her exact words were 'bring her back'." He pressed his forehead to hers. "And that's what I intend to do. If you'll let me."

She put her hand over his where it was cradling her cheek. "I can't let you⁠—"

"I'm afraid you don't have much choice." He said it so solemnly, as if he truly regretted it. But his laughing eyes gave him away. "You might be stubborn, but you have nothing on Lucy."

She made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "You're impossible," she whispered.

"Yes, well." His voice had gone rough and thick. "I suppose I learned it from you."

She laughed. It was tearful and ridiculous, but then he was laughing too and the sound was so lovely and reassuring, she couldn't do anything but wrap her arms around him and hold on.

After a long while, he dipped his head and whispered in her ear. "Come home."

Home. The word filled her mind with images from the country manor. But it wasn't the manor itself that was home, it was the quiet laughter with John by the fire, and the long walks with Lucy, and the love that filled that house.

Apparently she didn't respond quickly enough because John pulled back slightly and tipped her chin up so he could see her face.

She was painfully aware of what a mess she must be but she didn't try to pull away.

"Arabella," he said in a low voice. "I'm going to need you to agree to come home with me before I can let you out of my arms."

There was that feigned regret again, and again it made her smile. "Is that so?"