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He stared down at her, the sincerity written in her eyes striking him so he could not speak. He took in the sight of her features staring up at him, as stunning as they had been that first day he’d seen her in the bushes. Eyes, vibrant and telling. Hair, dark as the night’s sky. And lips…
He stared at them, parted and inviting. How he longed to taste their sweetness again. How he longed to feel her love for him in that way once more.
Was it possible? Could he truly have the woman he loved be his forever?
His conversation with his family the night before flashed through his mind.
“The only question that remains be this,” Mother had said, “do ye love ’er? Do ye love Miss May?”
August had nodded firmly. “I do.”
Mother and Father had exchanged glances, then, and Father grinned. “Then ye must fight for ’er, son. Fight for ’er as if your very soul depends upon it.”
Well, August’s soul, his happiness, his life did depend upon Livvy being with him. So he would fight.
“Marry me, Livvy,” he stated, unable to keep himself from saying the words a moment longer. “Stay on the Mount and marry me.”
She took in a quick breath of air, her chest rising against his as she peered up at him. Her eyes fell to his lips for a brief moment, and desire stirred within him.
“I’ll spend the rest o’ me days makin’ up for me errors,” he said. “I’ll spend each day strivin’ to make ye ’appy once again.”
Her lip twitched, and she drew in a trembling breath before she shook her head.
“I can’t.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
“In this world of semblance, we are contented with personating happiness; to feel it, is an art beyond us.”
The Man of Feeling, Henry MacKenzie
August had expected her to say the words, knowing the depth of her conviction. Yet still, they stung bitterly. “Ye can. Together, we can do anythin’.”
She shook her head, her eyes dropping to his lips again as she slowly blinked. “No. The rumors…”
“Hang the rumors,” he stated, tipping his head to the side to better see her lips as she raised her chin toward him.
How he wished she would disregard the gossips. How he wished she would let go of all else and cling to August this way forever.
“I would,” she whispered, her fingers clutching to the folds of his shirt near the small of his back. “But ye know it be more ’an that. Me father. ’E don’t want me ’ere anymore.”
Curse her father, destroying everything the two of them had ever wanted. “But I want ye ’ere, Livvy. Ain’t that enough?”
Her eyes softened, her brows drawn high. “I wish it was.”
“It can be.” Desperation clawed its way from his heart, clamoring toward the woman in anguish. “If we love each other—if ye love me—we can see through anythin’, your father’s desires included.”
A flicker of hope flashed in her eyes, buoying him up as he continued. “For if there be one thing I’ve discovered o’er the weeks o’ knowin’ ye, it be the power ye ’ave within yourself to be ye, despite all odds.”
“I fear I don’t ’ave much courage anymore, August. Or much strength. I…” She broke off, shaking her head. “I don’t e’en know who I be anymore.”
“Then allow me to remind ye,” he said softly. He reached his hand up, resting on her jawline, his thumb caressing her smooth skin. “Ye be Miss Livvy May,” he whispered, his thumb edging closer to the corner of her lips. “The woman who stands tall in the face of adversity, just like ’er favorite flowers. Ye be the woman who creates lists of ’ow joyous life makes ye. The woman who ain’t afeared o’ bein’ ’erself, e’en when everyone else be.” His thumb trailed over her chin, her own eyes dropping to his lips. “Ye be the woman I’ve fallen in love with more deeply and desperately than I e’er thought possible. For o’er the last few weeks I’ve discovered that to know Miss May is to love Miss May.”
A tear slipped from the corner of her eye, trailing down the opposite side of her cheekbone. She didn’t raise her hand to wipe it away. Nor did he, his eyes merely staring at the trail of moisture it created down her cheek, like the drops of rain he’d watched sliding down the window, making their mark on the glass.
“Tell me not that these tears are caused by me,” he whispered.
She sniffed. “They are caused by ye. But only from ’ow greatly I love ye.”
