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“Amelia—”
“No, Charles, it cannot be.”
“But Amelia—”
“I am cursed,” she said bitterly. “I have lost three husbands, and I could not bear to live with myself if I lost a fourth. It’s not a risk I’m willing to take.”
Charles had such compassion in his eyes that Amelia could feel her walls crumbling and she scrambled to keep them up. His voice was soft. “You cannot truly believe you are not worth the risk.”
Her heart stuttered and she paused, her mouth agape. Charles did not dispute her curse. Did that mean he was willing to risk it? “You…you do think I am cursed then?”
“No,” he said at once. “But I believe you have suffered a lot, and I would like to alleviate some of your pain if I can.” His voice became pleading, his eyes beseeching her. “I made a promise to myself I would never ask you for anything again, but I cannot help it. I love you, Amelia. I’ve loved you my entire life. No other woman can eclipse you in my eyes, and I only want the chance to love you every day for the rest of yours.”
Her body hummed from the purposeful way he spoke, from the declaration he made. She felt his passion in her core and saw it blazing in his eyes. This man, this wonderful, courteous, strong man, wanted to be with her. Would it be senseless to deny him because of her own fears?
Charles stepped closer, his hands hanging limply by his sides. He lifted them before dropping them once more. A thin layer of space remained between them, humming with energy. “Please be my wife, Amelia. Please put off those dreary black gowns and show the world that their words cannot cut you, that you choose your own happiness.”
He knew. The truth hit her like a cold splash of water. Somehow Charles knew of the ton’s hurtful name for her, and still, it did not stop him. In fact, he knew everything, did he not? He had been around for so long, been present for so much of her life. And he’d loved her through it all. For so long, she had allowed the wretched curse and her fears to drive her life, but they would have power over her no more.
He was right. She could choose her own happiness. She could have what Giulia and Nick shared. Apparently, what Andrew and Mrs. Halpert shared. She could have it all.
“Charles, I’m scared.”
His lips turned up in a soft smile, and he nodded. “I know, and I will not press you. The choice is yours. You only have to decide.”
Gazing into his dark, glimmering eyes in the late-night stillness, Amelia wanted nothing more than this man’s arms around her. She wanted his protection, his smile, his laughter. She wanted to share meals with him, to spend quiet evenings in one another’s company, to go for rides together.
She wanted him.
“Charles?”
“Yes?” he breathed.
“I love you.”
He was still, seemingly stunned a moment, before his hand came up and cupped the side of her face. Brushing his thumb along her cheekbone, he gazed into her eyes, his own warm and dark and full of love. Lowering his face toward hers, Charles softly pressed his lips against Amelia’s, and her body erupted in sudden warmth and longing, her pulse racing.
Leaning back, Charles held her gaze again, something in his eyes assuring her that they were meant to last. Charles lowered his lips to hers again, sliding his other hand around her waist and pulling her closer.
Her fingers tingled, and she reached up, wrapping them around his neck and pressing them into the hair at his nape. Charles deepened the kiss, tightening his hold on her waist and lifting her slightly off the ground. She reached up on tiptoe, but her shoes barely grazed the gravel drive.
Breaking the kiss, Charles lowered her and grinned, the smile etching deep creases in his cheeks. “If that is what kissing you feels like, I think it best if we get the banns read right away. I should like to do that every single day.”
Reaching up on tiptoe once more, Amelia placed a soft, slow, kiss on his lips. “I am certain we can work something out.”
* * *
It was impossible to feel happier than he did in this moment, tangled in Amelia’s embrace. Charles looked into her pale blue eyes, striking against the dark of night and beaming with joy. “There is so much to tell you,” he murmured, cradling her face between his hands.
She placed her hand over his and he winced, drawing back on impulse. “You’re hurt?” she asked, concern marring her brow.
“It is nothing.”
Taking his hand gingerly in both of hers, she stepped away and angled it toward the light from the house. It was too dark to see well, but even in the dimness, his hand was clearly bruised.
Looking up sharply, Amelia looked unimpressed. “You should have told me. Come, we need Andrew to look at this.”
She started to walk away. Using his good hand, he took hers and tugged her back toward him. He’d literally waited a lifetime to kiss Amelia. He was not going to let it end so soon. Pressing his hand against her back, he placed the other gingerly at her neck. “Surely your brother is busy with far more important things at present.”
