He blinked, and then… “Because,” he said quietly, “I found my house intolerably quiet without you. Because nothing felt right. Because I had grown rather?—”
He stopped himself.
“Fond?” she prompted.
“That.” His mouth curved faintly. “And I missed you.”
The words settled between them.
She glanced toward the hearth.
“So you made me a chair. Because you missed me.”
He led her across the room and placed her hand on the smooth wood.
“I wanted you to have something of mine that could hold you. Something shaped with care. And something that will, in time, carry the marks of you.” He looked at her then, his one dark eye searching hers.
His hand closed gently around hers where it rested on the chair. He turned her toward him with unhurried certainty, drawing her fully into his arms.
“You dared to touch my scars,” he said, searching her face. “Not only the ones you can see—but the ones I carry inside.”
He lifted her hands between them, his fingers guiding her palms upward.
And then he pressed them flat against his chest.
Over his heart.
“But most of all,” he murmured, his voice steady now, “you have left your mark here.”
Her hands remained there, feeling the strong, even rhythm beneath her touch.
“I want your touch everywhere, Rosamund,” he said. “So that wherever I turn… I know you were there.”
Stunned, but with joy shooting through her, Rosamund nodded.
“So, yes. I came to bring you a chair.” His voice lowered. “But also because I could not stop thinking of you.”
Before she could gather herself enough to respond, he bent his head and kissed her. There was no tentativeness in this kiss. It was confident. Unapologetic.
It was the kind of kiss a man gives when he has already decided something.
Having no thoughts of resisting, Rosamund kissed him back.
And when he drew back, he did not release her, but rested his forehead against hers.
“Marry me.”
Her lashes lifted slowly. “You are not asking because of my brother, I hope.”
She needed to know for sure, that this was a choice.
His choice.
A flicker of indignation crossed his face. “My proposal has absolutely nothing to do with your brother.”
He kissed her again. This time, several moments passed before she pulled back enough to search his expression again.
“I thought you did not trust yourself to have a wife.”