A Duchess a Day (Awakened by a Kiss #1) - Charis Michaels Page 0,85
for Lusk’s money and title. These potential duchesses will be driven by the same. It is enough.”
“And then what?” asked Helena. Anger radiated from her ramrod posture in the saddle.
Fine, he thought, let her be angry. Simply—let her not be defeated or rejected. Let her not be hurt by him.
“Meaning?” He was afraid of the answer.
“I mean,” she explained, “after one of the girls enchants him, and he throws me over. And I’m finally able to go home. Then what happens? Between us?”
“Helena,” he growled. “What do you wish to hear? That I love you? Alright. Fine. I love you.”
He took a breath. If he stopped to examine this statement, he would lose heart. Instead, he kept talking. “I’ve loved you since the moment you stepped into the duke’s house and turned down three private servants but chose me.
“I’ve loved you since you sailed into the stable in the white gown, and I’ve loved you for every ridiculous debutante you’ve cultivated for your own jilting.
“I love your beautiful peridot eyes, and your lithe body, and your onyx hair. I love that you are an apple farmer, and I love that you are relentless. I need relentless. I can see that now. I need you.”
He was breathing hard. Sweat trickled down his neck. The horse danced beneath him, confused by his tense thighs and taut rein. The words poured from him like blood from a wound.
He thought of his mountain of unexplored emotion. He hadn’t climbed it so much as jumped off the top.
“Love,” he finally finished, “is not our problem. It is simply not enough.”
He’d said this to the back of her head, riding four paces behind. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she reined her horse around. Her face was lit by a sunbeam through the trees. Smiling lips. Bright eyes. Glowing cheeks. She shined brighter than the autumn morning. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She breathed in small, tight breaths.
“We should kiss,” she told him, reining up.
“We cannot kiss,” he told her. “I am your groom, and you are my charge, and we are in a public park.”
“You are a terrible groom,” she teased, smiling through her tears.
“There are so many commonplace things that we won’t be able to do, Helena. Not for a very long time, perhaps not forever. My love for you is real, but please begin to consider the challenges we face. I may be a terrible groom, but I’m in no position to be a good partner to you, not for years, perhaps.”
“If you can imagine the worst for us, then I can imagine the best,” she said, reining around. “Perhaps the reality will be somewhere in the center.”
“I pray to God you are correct.”
She shot him a sweet smile, full of love and hope, and dug her heels into the mare. The animal sprang forward, galloping ahead, tossing bright leaves into the air.
Declan tried to think of the task at hand, of finding this seventh potential duchess, of Girdleston’s impending party, but his mind was consumed by the unlikely prospect of marriage to Lady Helena Lark.
Was that what came after proclaiming love? Marriage? He’d never said I love you to a woman in his life; marriage hadn’t ever crossed his mind. He was too busy. His father and sisters required too much. No girl had been worth the upheaval of his life.
But his declaration of love had been real—nay, it had been urgent and necessary and long overdue.
But to Helena, it would not be enough. He knew this. She’d already asked what came next. To her, these last five years had meant one, long evasion. She longed to live life, not run away from it. As well she should. And that said nothing of what he longed for.
Declan hadn’t allowed his mind to indulge in the fantasy of marriage to Helena Lark. The probability of success felt too narrow, as thin as a keyhole to his jail cell.
And yet—
And yet he wanted it.
He ached with wanting it—a new and alarming pain. One of the many benefits of life as a mercenary was freedom from want. His clients paid well, the work was active and exciting, and he’d earned the respect of prosperous men. He hadn’t known true, unrequited want until he’d met her.
He would fight that want forever if it meant keeping her safe, but his desire was not the struggle. The struggle was with what she wanted.
From the beginning, he’d not been able to deny her a single bloody thing.