I will breathe my last breath content that, for a very short time, I had the privilege of loving you.”
Oh, damn. She’d said it.
His body jerked, as if she’d struck him. “What?”
“I didn’t mean to say that,” she whispered. “It’s not fair of me to speak those words when I know that you—”
He closed the distance between them. At his sides, his hands flexed, as though he struggled not to hold her. He demanded, “You love me?”
She’d thought she had cried her final tear, but her cheeks were wet. “I do love you. But,” she added hoarsely, “it doesn’t signify anything. Love isn’t a weapon. It’s not a way to bind someone to you or make someone feel obligated. It should be a gift, a blessing.”
His words gravelly, he said, “I went back and forth with myself for weeks, trying to decide what to do. Let you go, or go after you. Didn’t eat, couldn’t rest. Went nowhere and saw no one. Not even the Union. Because I had to understand it on my own.
“And I learned something.” His voice was low and urgent. “Love is many things. It’s a bullet and it’s a balm. Some people fire it with the intention to wound or kill. And others ease the hurts we’ve suffered over the course of our lives. Sometimes, love is both. It brings you such pain and yet you want that pain because it proves that you’re alive. It’s so much better to be alive and hurting than dead and numb.”
As he spoke, she felt her pulse speed faster and faster.
His gaze burned her. “Jess. You did hurt me. Terribly. But,” he continued over her when she tried to apologize again, “I understand why you did what you did. The wound you gave me would not have been so deep if I hadn’t loved you.”
Her breath caught, yet she said, “Loved. Past tense.”
“Present tense.” He reached up and gently cupped her jaw. “I love you, Jess. I never stopped. You’re courageous and you know your mind and you’re the most intelligent person I know—and I know some damned brilliant people. And,” he went on, his words so deep that they went right to the heart of her, “you see me not as a duke, but as a man.”
He tipped her chin up as he stepped even closer, the distance between them shrinking to scant inches. “When I’m with you, I’m more myself than ever before. I know what I am with you. I know who I am.”
“Who are you?” she breathed.
“I’m just Noel. You are just Jess.” His voice thickened. “And I would be so honored, so very humbled, if you would be my duchess.”
She stared at him. Surely she hadn’t heard him properly. “I’m a commoner. I deceived you.”
“Yes, and yes.” Naked longing shone in his gaze. “And I want to move forward with you in my life. Be beside me, Jess. Always.”
“I . . .” She couldn’t find words, not a single one. Happiness rushed through her, so intense it verged on pain, but she leaned into that pain. Loving it. Loving him.
His brow furrowed. “Do you want me to kneel? Because I will do it. I’ll kneel for you, Jess. Only you.”
When he started to sink down, she gripped his arms tightly, trying to keep him on his feet. He looked up at her, a flare of fear in his eyes, as if she might refuse him.
Nothing could be further from the truth. “Not yet,” she murmured. “The next time you kneel before me, by God, we will have the time and privacy to enjoy it.” She went on, “I do love you on your knees. I love that you love me to command you. I will, you know. Command you.”
Slowly, his expression brightened. “What will you command me to do?”
“So many wicked things. You do them so well.” She lifted up on her toes to put her mouth to his.
He kissed her back, searing and urgent. Then he pulled away enough to ask, “That’s a yes?”
She laughed. “It’s a yes. But, Noel,” she could not stop herself from saying, “all of what I said is true. I’m a commoner, a farmer’s daughter. Surely if I become your duchess, you will shock Society. You’ll lose friends.”
“I might,” he said. “And I don’t give a goddamn about it. What Society believes doesn’t matter to me. And my true friends will adore you, as I do.”