Felicity asked.
“Nothing, love. Adam just learned something about himself. He’s a little overwhelmed by it.”
“He’s regained his faith. I saw it in his eyes as he looked upon us.”
Angus turned to face her. “He’s right, you know. You in bed. Me beside you. The visit from the three wise women bearing gifts. Pip, the devil-child. Well, he’s our angel child tonight.” He glanced out the window. “It’s starting to snow again. What do you think, Felicity? I love you. Will you have me?”
“Oh, Angus. You’re all I’ve ever wanted. If I weren’t so ridiculously helpless, I’d leap out of bed and smother you with kisses.” She closed her eyes and took a deep, trembling breath, then let it out slowly. “In all my life, I never thought I’d hear those words.”
“I love you?”
She kept her eyes closed and nodded. “I’ve never been loved before. I’m so afraid to say it back to you. But I feel it so deeply. You’ve been in my heart from the moment I first saw you. Angus…I…”
“All that matters to me is that you feel it. The words will come in time.”
“I do feel it.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t need more time. I’m terrified, but I do love you. Hopelessly and utterly.”
He took her hand and slipped the bride token on to her finger. “You are mine now, Felicity. As I shall always be yours.”
She opened her eyes.
The ring was no mere token. It was much finer than she’d expected, a brilliant, square-cut sapphire set in the center of a circle of small diamonds. “Angus?”
“There’s something else I must tell you.” He raked a hand through his hair as he shifted to sit on the bed beside her. “I should have mentioned it first, but I was afraid you’d refuse me if you knew the truth.”
She obviously had no idea what he was talking about. This is why he loved her as fiercely as he did. Any other woman, once learning the truth of his identity, would leap at the chance to accept him. But Felicity was not like all the others. He feared she would not have him if she knew he was rich and titled.
He glanced toward the door again, then shook his head and continued. “I have to leave Wellesford, but I’m not going without you.”
“Why must you leave? Angus, is something wrong? You know you can tell me anything.”
“There isn’t anything wrong. For the first time in my life, everything seems to be right. At least, I hope so.” It was his turn to take a deep breath. “The problem is, I’m a duke.”
She laughed.
“Seriously, I’m the Duke of Appin. My lands are north of Oban, bordering on Loch Linnhe. I never thought I would return, for I’d made my home here.” He paused to allow her to take in what he’d just told her. She began to fidget with the ring. “Don’t take it off, Felicity. I want you for my wife.”
“But why? How long have you been a duke? All along?”
“No, just recently. I learned about it a little over two weeks ago. A letter arrived along with this ring. It shouldn’t be mine, for I had a miserable excuse for a father and three detestable older brothers. They probably poisoned my father and then they started on each other. They were my father’s sons from his first wife. My sweet, delightful mother was his second wife, but she didn’t survive beyond my fifth birthday. I still have one surviving brother, but he’s what my father endearingly called a ‘filthy bastard’ as though it was ever Devlin’s fault that our father did not marry his mother. But he married mine, so with every legitimate heir gone but for me, it appears I’ve inherited it all.”
He arched an eyebrow and cast her a wry smile. “Duchess Felicity has a nice sound to it.”
“Oh, Angus. No, it doesn’t. It can’t!” She tugged on the ring to slip it off her finger.
“Don’t.” He stayed her hand. “Let me put it another way. I can’t do this without you. That bell above your door hasn’t stopped ringing and won’t stop until much later tonight when everyone in Wellesford returns to their beds. You will have a string of visitors coming through here to pay their respects to you. They’re coming by to tell you how much they adore and appreciate you.”
“I’m an orphan who never knew her parents.”
“You’re the only woman I will ever have as my duchess. I don’t