Winter's Woman (The Wicked Winters #9) - Scarlett Scott Page 0,57
expression changing at last. Softening. “Evie.”
“I love you, Theo.” Telling him felt right. She should have done so before now, but fear had kept her from making the revelation.
She would not allow it to stop her this time.
“You are not meant for this life,” he said quietly.
Not the words of love she had been hoping for.
“I am meant for a life with you,” she countered.
He closed his eyes, his countenance turning pained. “Do not say something you will later regret.”
She laced her fingers through his, gratified he had not withdrawn from her touch. “I will never regret telling you I love you and belong at your side. Stop pushing me away. Let me into your heart.”
“Fucking hell.”
His bitter oath told her he was fighting a losing battle.
“Please, Theo,” she said.
His eyes opened, vivid blue burning into her. “You are the daughter of a duke.”
“I am the woman who loves you,” she countered. “That is what matters most.”
“Damn it, Evie.” He glared at her, rolling his lips inward as if he were attempting to suppress words.
She brought his hand to her lips, pressing a kiss to it, then to the inking of the blade on his inner wrist. “You can say the words.”
He grunted.
But his stern demeanor was fading. She kissed his hand again, holding his gaze. “Theo?”
“I love you, too,” he admitted on a rush.
Her heart suddenly felt too big for her body. “You do?”
He glowered. “Aye. I do.”
Relief and joy—profound, deep, overwhelming, blossomed. He loved her.
“You do not still want to send me away?” she pressed.
“I’ll not have you regret this decision,” he said. “I want you to be sure.”
“I am sure.” She shook her head, smiling at him through a sudden rush of tears. “I have never been surer of anything or anyone.”
His gaze searched hers. “What of Dullerton?”
She knew a brief pang of guilt at the manner in which she had defected. Mayhap there would be scandal. Her reputation could be ruined if she married Theo. She did not care. Lord Denton could find solace in the arms of Mrs. Hale.
She squeezed Theo’s fingers. “I wrote him a letter. I’ve cried off. There is only one man I want to marry.”
He brought their entwined hands to his lips for a reverent kiss. “It had damn well better be me.”
“Then you had better ask me, Mr. Theodore Winter,” she countered lightly, trying to keep her tears of happiness at bay.
“Lady Evangeline Saltisford,” he said formally, kissing each one of her fingers, then her upturned palm.
She swallowed. “Yes?”
“Marry me?”
All the hope and love and elation burst open inside her, like a tightly furled bud blossoming in the sun. “I thought you would never ask.”
He tugged her. “Come here.”
She crawled on the bed, nestling beside him, taking care not to jostle him too much. He curved his good arm around her, holding her to his side as he dropped a kiss on the top of her head. She embraced him, resting her palm over the promising thud of his heart.
“Was that a yes?” he asked.
She tipped her head back, smiling into his brilliant eyes. “Of course it was.”
Chapter Fifteen
Devil was not certain which three words he preferred more, Mrs. Theodore Winter or I love you.
Looking at the woman who had just become his wife, he decided he didn’t need to choose. They were all excellent. Perfect, in fact. As perfect as she was, dressed in a night rail that had surely been crafted to make him fall to his knees with crazed lust.
It was successful.
His knees wanted to buckle, just looking at her.
“My God, Evie.”
She cast him a shy smile. Her golden curls were unbound, cascading over her shoulders. Her nipples were hard temptations prodding the fine fabric of her gown. The sight of her standing there in her chamber at the townhome he had managed to secure next door to Dom and Lady Adele’s stole his breath. They had waited months to marry, and the delay had been excruciating.
But he had been determined to win her father’s approval and to heal and regain the use of his arm. He had also set about creating a life for himself beyond The Devil’s Spawn. A life that would be worthy of his wife. None of it had been easy. But he had done it, damn it. For Evie.
“Shall I wrap a counterpane about me like a shawl?” she teased him.
Reminding him of that long-ago night when he had been desperately tempted to take her. But that had been before she was