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Chapter Twenty-Eight
Antony couldn’t answer at first. He was too busy staring at Hermione, seeing the way she was looking up at him with hope in her eyes.
“You love me?” he said, breaking the silence between them at last, although he didn’t answer her question yet.
“I do,” she said with a firm nod. “Despite how stubborn you are; you’re arrogant too, insufferable sometimes–”
“These sound more like insults than words of love.”
“I love you,” she said strongly, keeping her chin turned up toward him. “Please, Antony, please believe me. I never wanted to trick you into marrying me. It just…” She shrugged. “It happened. I hated my father for it whilst I fell in love with you. Believe me, please?”
Antony kept quiet, but he reached out toward her. With one hand he touched her cheek, cradling it in his grasp as he brushed some of the seawater away from her cheeks. Her green eyes were blinking a lot, clearly holding back tears.
“I believe you,” he said at last. She capitulated. Those eyes closed, and the tears came properly. He reached out to her, wrapping his other arm around her waist as she fell into his chest, crying and clinging to his shirt sleeves on his arms.
“You should have told me sooner what was going on,” he said, whispering in her ear.
“I know,” she said miserably. “I was scared.” Hearing those simple words made him lower his other arm to around her waist. He enveloped her in his arms and lifted her up from the beach sand, holding her tightly to him.
“You love me?” he whispered again, wanting to hear it yet another time.
“I do,” she said, crying against his collarbone and the bottom of his neck.
“And you were always yourself with me? You were always the real Hermione?”
“Always,” she said, looking up so that he could see her tear-stained cheeks.
“Thank God for that,” he said with a smile. “I thought I had fallen in love with a creation, rather than the real you.” She stiffened in his grasp.
“You love me too?” she asked.
“I do.” When her tears came again, he wanted to stop them. He held her tightly, bringing her up to him and crashed his lips against hers. The kiss was intense and passionate with his arms clamoring around her waist and her hands going to his hair, holding him down to her.
“Every kiss was real?” he asked between their kisses. “What we did in the library, it was all real?”
“All of it,” she said with a smile. “You have no idea how the memory of that night in the library haunts me.”
“Haunts you?”
“I long to relive it.” Her words brought another smile from him as he stole another kiss then looked around the beach. With it still being early in the morning, they were completely alone. There was no one else on the beach, and there wouldn’t be for some time.
“Then come this way,” he said, parting from her just enough to take her hand and drag her across the beach.
“Where are we going?”
“To relive that night,” he said simply, dragging her all the way to the back of the beach. It took a few minutes for him to find the cave opening. He hadn’t been in there for some time. He could remember finding the cave once when he was a young boy. Few people knew about it, although every now and then debris could be found inside showing that some people found their way there from the town.
When he found the slim crack in the rock, he slipped in, pulling Hermione in to follow him. Inside, the cave stretched out, much wider than its narrow entrance. “Here?” Hermione asked breathlessly as he reached for her.
“We can wait if you prefer,” he said with a mischievous smile as he took her in his arms again.
“No more waiting,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“Thank God for that,” he muttered before pressing his lips to hers.
The kiss was fast and insistent, both of them trying to take control with the kiss and control their passion. Soon, Antony was backing her up against the wall of the cliff, pressing her body between his and the grey stone. He could feel her slim curves through the wet dress and his own wet clothes.
When his hands went for her dress, he parted from his kiss to concentrate on what he was doing. He untied the laces at the front hurriedly, practically tearing them in his eagerness to get the gown off her.
