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Still, how great a contrast between the excitement and sense of safety she’d felt, just seeing Dom standing in her aunt’s drawing room, and the dread with which she viewed having to entertain other potential suitors—even the accommodating Lord Sayle.
She was far more comfortable around him than she’d been with any other man since Marshall, and had been from their first meeting. Feeling at home in the heart of one’s home was a valuable thing. Plus, they shared a love of books, horses, and a common interest in the children and their futures.
Marrying him would certainly meet the criteria required by Lady Hazlett. She’d gain an incomparable role model for her son and the support of Dom’s well-connected family when it came time for Charles to attend university and choose a vocation.
She could return to the countryside she much preferred, get back to running her school—and have Dominic Ransleigh at her side and in her bed.
Ah, how often had images of heated encounters between them invaded her dreams! Accept him, and she’d no longer have to resist the desire he aroused so effortlessly. After awakening many nights in the dark, afire with longing, she’d be able to follow through on all her erotic imaginings, with the right to explore every glorious inch of his body and discover every possible way to bring them delight.
It was several moments before she could drag her mind from those enticing possibilities back to cold, hard reality.
He didn’t love her, and in marrying him, she’d deprive him of the chance to fall in love—or risk turning into the duty wife of a man smitten with another woman. Wincing at the unpleasant possibility, she concluded that boredom or outright misery would be preferable.
Plus, marriage should be an equal bargain. He offered her salvation from an untenable situation, but what did she bring him, save a school full of problems and the possibility that an unsavoury old scandal might one day pop up out of the box into which her lies had crammed it and shock his world, like some evil grinning jack-in-the-box?
Was she, on some unconscious level, pushing herself towards an unhappy marriage as a penance for her sins, as he’d alleged? There might be more truth to that charge than she’d like to admit.
Or was her reluctance, as she hoped, based more on high principle—not allowing him to sacrifice himself in a cause not his own. Though, as he’d argued, he was a man grown, making this choice of his own free will. She had no right to keep him from making it.
Though she had every right to refuse, if after sober analysis she deemed the benefits he offered did not outweigh the risks of marrying a man she could all too easily fall in love with.
For she had to admit—if only to herself—that she more than liked Dominic Ransleigh. All the reasons that made it so attractive to accept his hand, made it far too easy to go from liking to loving him. Hadn’t she promised herself, after the total devastation of Marshall’s death, she would never, ever put herself at risk for that kind of desolation again?
The possibilities of loss were more than just having him fall for another woman. True, with the war over, she needn’t fear losing him in battle. But there were still fevers and carriage accidents and any manner of dangers that could snatch away one’s beloved.
Then she had to laugh at herself. Had the girl who once had been sublimely unconcerned about sending a soldier off to battle now become prey to such alarm she must worry about every ghostie, goblin, and terror that whispered in the dark?
All she knew for sure was she very much wanted to marry Dominic Ransleigh—and that she very much feared doing so would be a huge mistake.
Unable to resolve the matter, she jumped up in disgust and headed back to the house.
Aunt Amelia would want to know what they had discussed, and she’d have to come up with something glib to fob her off. She could not bear revealing her conflicted feelings for Dominic Ransleigh to anyone, even her sympathetic aunt. Who, in any event, would be certain to dismiss any reservations she might have and urge her to get Dom leg-shackled before he changed his mind.
First, she had to make up hers.
Mercifully, she had the rest of the evening and all night to wrestle with it.
* * *
Next morning, in the wake of a mostly sleepless night, Theo could hardly recall what tale she’d spun for her aunt or how they’d spent the rest of the evening. Pleading a very real headache, she’d taken herself off to bed early, only to toss and turn as the clock struck through the hours. Marry or not, marry or not, its steady tick seemed to taunt her.
It wasn’t fair, she thought, sitting in bed in the pale morning light, clutching a cooling cup of chocolate she would gag on if she tried to sip it. Wanting him too much couldn’t be good, could it? It would be so easy to fall in love with him—and therein lay disaster.
She knew he’d be here soon, expecting the answer she’d promised. The butterflies in her stomach turned to swallows, swooping and diving against her ribs.
Would she be giving in to her sensual self against her better judgement if she accepted?
Yet, accepting him would solve her problem immediately, making it much less likely that Tremaine could cause any more damage. Thereby safeguarding the school, and giving Charles the most wonderful mentor she could ask for.
Shouldn’t protecting herself from the dangers of falling in love be her own task—her peace of mind in avoiding that possibility less important than the security of Charles and her orphans?
Susan arrived with her gown, and had just helped her into it when a knock sounded at the door.
‘Mr Ransleigh is here again,’ the butler informed her with a frown. ‘I told him it was much too early to call upon a lady, but he insisted.’
The swallows swooped through another circuit. Placing a hand on her stomach, she said, ‘Yes, I was expecting him.’
His disapproving glance now settling on her for having encouraged such a breach of decorum, he said, ‘Very well. I shall inform him you’ll be down directly.’
A few minutes later, Theo slipped quietly into the room. Dom stood by the window, gazing into the garden, tapping one booted foot impatiently. She took in the tousled blond locks, the noble profile, the tall, broad-shouldered torso, no longer so thin. This man may soon be my husband, she thought with a sense of wonder.
Then he turned and spied her, and every nerve in her body vibrated with awareness. ‘Good morning, Mr Ransleigh,’ she said, hardly able to get the words out of her tight throat.
He paced over, pulled her against him, and kissed her fiercely. Fuelled by lust and terror, she kissed him back just as hard.
Finally he broke away, still binding her against him with his one good arm. Gazing at her intently, he said, ‘Was that a yes?’
She hesitated, still unsure of her answer. She truly hadn’t decided before she walked into the room what she was going to do, her thoughts and emotions having yawed wildly back and forth from ‘yes’ to ‘no’ since he’d left her yesterday.
His fierce gaze softening, he cupped her cheek with his good hand. ‘Do you trust me, Theo? To watch out for you, and protect you, and cherish you?’
That question, she had no trouble answering. ‘Yes, I trust you.’
‘As I trust you, to watch out for and protect and cherish me. Is there anything else more important than that?’
Her lips trembling, she shook her head.
‘Then, Theo, will you marry me?’
With his touch gentle and his voice tender and his bright blue gaze fixed on her face with affection and concern, she said the only thing possible.
‘Yes, Dom, I will marry you.’
With a cry of triumph, he hauled her close and kissed her again. Finally releasing her, he said, ‘We will be happy, Theo, I promise you! Now, shall I go and inform your aunt?’
Having now committed herself, Theo felt a succession of conflicting emotions rush through her—excitement, elation, anticipation, desire, doubt, fear. It was all she could do to say, ‘Not now. She’ll be abed for hours yet.’
‘When and where do you wish to wed? With the need to resolve Charles’s position, it’s probably best to make it soon. I can ride to Doctors’ Commons and procure a special licence, and we could marry whenever you wish. Here, at your aunt’s house, or back in Suffolk. Unless you’d prefer to wait to establish residency so we could wed at St George’s in Hanover Square?’
‘Soon, in this house, would be best,’ she confirmed.
‘I’ll be off, then, and call on your aunt later.’ Gently he took her chin again and angled her head up, his good eye searching her face. ‘Are you sure? You won’t change your mind later, feeling you were coerced into this?’
She laughed feebly. ‘Shouldn’t I be asking you that?’
He grinned, the eye patch making him look positively piratical. ‘I’m getting what I want. Or I will be soon. Ah, what a wedding night I anticipate!’ He drew one finger across her lips.
Yearning ignited in its wake. ‘How long do we have to wait?’
