“After what you did. After you sent me away. After you told me it was over and then stood there bleeding in Lewis’s house and asked me to come to you as though—as though you had any right?—”
She stopped. Her throat was tight, her hands shaking. She had rehearsed this on the way here, had planned exactly what she would say, how she would confront him. How she would demand answers and maintain her dignity and walk away if he gave her anything less than the truth. But now that she was standing in front of him, all the careful words scattered like ash.
“I have been furious with you,” she said, and her voice cracked on the last word. “For weeks. Since the night you pleasured me and then sent me home like I was—like I meant nothing. Likewhat we had was nothing. Like every night we spent together, every conversation, every moment I thought was real was just—what? A diversion? A game you were playing until you grew bored?”
Her hands curled into fists. “And you have given me no explanation. No reason. You ended it without telling me why, and then you threw yourself in front of a knife for me, and then you walked away again, and I—” She swallowed hard. “You owe me that much, at least. An explanation. The truth.”
He said nothing. He was looking at her with an expression she could not read, something raw and unguarded that made her chest ache.
“Tell me,” she demanded. “Tell me what you feel for me. Because I cannot—I cannot keep doing this. I cannot keep wondering. I need to know.”
Anthony was quiet for a long moment. Then he moved away from the window, closer to her, and she saw the way his hand pressed tighter to his side, the way his breathing was not quite even.
“I have been afraid,” he said finally. His voice was low, stripped of everything but truth. “For so long. Since William died. Since I became the Duke, I realized I would never be what my father wanted. I learned to keep people at a distance. To make everything a performance so that nothing could touch me.”
He paused, his jaw tightening. “And then you came along with your ridiculous list and your stubbornness. And for the first time in years, I felt something real. You made me feel alive, Caroline.”
His hand flexed at his side. “Every night we spent together, every argument, every moment you looked at me like I was more than the rake everyone expected—it was real. And it terrified me. Because I knew that if I let myself care, if I let you matter, I would fail you. And even the slightest possibility of that terrified me.”
Her breath caught. She had not expected this. Had not expected him to say it so plainly, without the usual armor of wit and charm he wore like a second skin.
“I pushed you away because I thought—” He stopped, his hand curling into a fist at his side. “I thought if I ended it, if I sent you home, you would be safe from me. That you could marry someone respectable. Someone who would not ruin you. But I was wrong. I was a coward. And I?—”
His voice broke. He looked at her with an expression so open, so vulnerable, that it stole the breath from her lungs.
“I love you,” he said. “I have loved you for longer than I care to admit. And I am sorry. For pushing you away. For hurting you. For being too much of a fool to tell you sooner.”
The world tilted. Caroline stared at him, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might break through her ribs. He loved her. He had said it. Not in the careful, measured way of a manhedging his bets, but with the raw honesty of someone who had run out of defenses.
She crossed the space between them in three steps and kissed him. Hard.Desperate.
He made a sound against her mouth, surprise and relief, and something deeper. His arms came around her, careful of his injury but holding her close. She kissed him with all the anger and longing and desperation she had been carrying, and he kissed her back like a man who had been drowning and had finally found air.
When they broke apart, she was breathing hard, her hands fisted in his coat.
“You were the only gentleman who saw me,” she said, her voice shaking. “Not just as Lewis’s sister…or as a respectable young lady who needed to be managed. You saw me as aperson. You let me be more than what everyone expected.”
She touched his face, her fingers gentle against his bruised jaw. “I love you, too,” she whispered. “I think I have loved you since the night you fed me dessert and refused to let me pretend I didn’t want this. Since you took me to boxing matches and lectures and gaming hells and never once made me feel like I was less for wanting them.”
Anthony closed his eyes, his forehead resting against hers. When he opened them again, they were bright with hope.
“Marry me,” he said. “Not because Lewis expects it, and certainly not because Powell forced our hand. Marry me because you want to. Because I cannot imagine my life without you in it.”
“Yes,” she said, without hesitation, without doubt. “Yes, Anthony. I will marry you.”
He kissed her again, deeper this time. His hands moved to her waist, her back, pulling her closer. She felt the heat of him, the solid weight of his body against hers, and something low in her stomach tightened with want.
“Anthony,” she breathed against his mouth.
He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes dark with desire.
“Come with me,” he said, his voice rough.
He took her hand and led her to the settee, guiding her down onto the cushions. Then he knelt before her, his hands moving to her skirts.
“What are you?—”
“I need to taste you,” he said, his fingers working at the hem of her gown, pushing the fabric up past her knees, past her thighs Slowly. “I have been starving for you, Caroline. Dreaming of this. Let me worship you the way you deserve.”