Marie felt an emotion melt through her, even stronger than her excitement: a tenderness that was both powerful and familiar. She set the beaker down and moved around the table, her heart thudding unsteadily in her chest.
He should have gone home hours ago. He was still weak from loss of blood and in pain from his wound, despite all his grumbly protests to the contrary. He looked pale and…
So boyish and sweet, with his hair tangled over his forehead and his spectacles askew. She leaned close to him, unable to resist the urge to touch him, caught up in a pleasant memory.
She had seen him just like this once before, one morning at the house they had shared in Paris…
For the first time, to her surprise, the thought of their shared past didn’t bring with it a rush of hurt and outrage. Perhaps because the tenderness she felt at the moment was so strong.
She carefully removed his spectacles, setting them aside. They had left a crease in his stubbled cheek. Lightly, gently, she traced her fingertips over the mark, down to his bruised jaw, up along his cheekbone to his forehead, brushing his hair back from his eyes.
“Ruffian angel,” she whispered.
He didn’t feel too warm, she realized. He didn’t have a fever. Relief flooded through her. An infection could have killed him just as surely as any bullet.
Dear God, she had been so worried, so afraid that he might die, after he had survived so much and they had…
She withdrew her hand, her smile wavering.
And they had…
So much ahead of them? Was that what she had been thinking?
It couldn’t be.
And yet…
He had told her the truth about his past, his family, his illness. He had brought Armand here—even though that would make it easier for her to leave.
Why was it so hard to let herself believe that he truly loved her? To forgive…to trust?
Trembling, she stood frozen by indecision, part of her longing to touch him again, to wake him with a kiss…part of her more frightened and uncertain than she had ever been in her life.
She had believed in their love once before, only to have the illusion shattered, the dream abruptly ended. She wasn’t sure her heart could bear that pain again.
Her lower lip quivered as she looked down at his handsome features.
She was a scientist. She dealt in facts. With a calm head and cool reason. She was not an emotional person.
But if that were still true, why was she trembling?
Why was some part of her—some tenacious, vulnerable, hopeful part—still dreaming so sweet a dream?
Unable to stop herself, she caressed his beard-roughened cheek.
His lashes lifted. “Marie?” He looked up at her with a drowsy smile. “I was having…the most pleasant dream.”
“You’re very tired, my lord,” she whispered. “We have to get you home.”
“Not until we’re done.” Sitting up slowly, he winced and rubbed at his shoulder. “What time is it?” He yawned. “How’s the new formulation?”
“It works. Perfectly. We are done.”
“It works?” he echoed in disbelief. “Perfectly?”
“You were right.” Grateful for the distraction from her unsettled emotions, she walked back around the table and sprinkled more of the chemical on another candle, demonstrating how it doused the open flame without exploding. “You’ve done it.”
“We’ve done it,” he corrected with a broad smile. Despite his exhaustion, he got up and came around the table with a whoop of happiness, taking the beaker to repeat what she had done. “Ha! Look at that!” He put out another candle. “Let’s see them blow up anything with that! Mademoiselle, I do believe you’ve—” He glanced toward her and his smile faded.
“What?” she asked with concern. “Are you all right?”
He swallowed hard, staring at her in the flickering glow of the candles and the moonlight. “My God, Marie,” he whispered. “You’ll be furious with me for saying this…but I’ve never seen you look as beautiful as you do right now. You’re the most breathtaking woman I’ve ever seen.”
For a moment, she could only gaze back at him, watching the golden light shimmer in the hot silver of his eyes. The moment felt familiar—the two of them together in an intimate circle of light in the center of darkness, wrapped in a luminous warmth that kept the cold world at bay.
“Y-you don’t know what you’re saying,” she whispered. “Your mind is all muddled. It’s only your fatigue that…that makes you think I’m beautiful.”
“No,” he assured her simply, “it’s not.”
She gestured to the beaker in his hand. “You have what you wanted,” she pointed out. “You can take it to your government. You won’t hang for treason now. And once you send a sample to the French and they realize that it’s useless to them—that I’m useless to them—this whole ordeal will be over and…and I’ll be able to live in peace.” Her voice started to waver. “So now I’m free to—”
“Don’t say it.”
“—leave. We agreed that I would stay until the chemical was neutralized. It’s finished now. Our work is finished.”
“Marie, don’t go.” He set the beaker aside. “Stay with me. Stay in spite of logic and our agreement and anything else. Forget about being rational and reasonable and just let yourself feel. Just stay with me.”
She shut her eyes against the emotions that burned in his gaze and made her heart pound wildly. Emotions that threatened to overwhelm her and render her senseless. “I can’t. Max, I can’t.”
“Why? Because our countries are at war? I don’t give half a damn about that. England and France have been at war for the better part of four centuries. That hasn’t stopped people from marrying on opposite sides of the Channel—”
“Stop. Please stop.”
“Is it because I lied to you? Marie, I’ve admitted it and I’ve apologized. Forgive me. Forgive me and stay here with me. Marry me. What we feel for each other is real and rare and…damn it, I love you! We love each other. You can’t just throw that away.”
She looked up at him through her tears. “You and I live in the world of reason and logic, Max. Dreams are for people like Véronique and Julian—and they usually don’t come true. Even for people like them. Dreams don’t last.”
“This one can,” he said roughly.
She shook her head. “I’m not who you think I am. I’m not the sort of woman who can believe in dreams and romance. And I can’t…I can’t…”
I can’t change.
He moved toward her.
Afraid she was about to crumple at his feet in tears, she turned and ran for the door. “I’ll be leaving with Armand tomorrow.”
She fled into the dark corridor, running blindly.
And heard a single word behind her, a raw shout of disbelief and loss. “Marie!”
Somehow she made it to the street below, to the two coaches that sat waiting. The footman helped her up and the driver sent the team forward with the same unruffled efficiency he did every night, taking her…
Home.
She had been about to finish that thought with the word home.
Curling up in the corner of the seat, she buried her face in the crook of her arm, unable to hold back the tears. She seemed always to be crying lately. But she was not an emotional person. She was…she…
She was tired. That was all. Worn out. In the morning, she would feel better. More like herself.
When the coach arrived at the town house in Grosvenor Square, she fled straight up the stairs to her room and shut the door behind her.
Sleep. That was what she needed. By the light of the moon spilling in through the window, she unfastened her gown, her fingers fumbling with the ties because her hands were shaking. Slipping into a nightdress, she went to bed.
And lay wide awake, staring up at the canopy.
She should feel happy and relieved. Her chemical would never again be used as a weapon. The nightmare was over. She was fr
ee now.
But instead of joy, the thought of leaving London brought only sorrow. She would miss Ashiana, who had become a friend to her, the first real friend she had ever had. And the duchess, whom she had barely gotten to know but who seemed to be such a fascinating woman. And Julian, so bravely determined not to let the tragedy he had suffered affect him. And…
Max.
How could she leave Max? How could she leave here tomorrow when it would mean leaving her entire heart behind?
She rolled onto her side, trembling.
He was undeniably the man she had fallen in love with, intelligent, brave, gentle, self-sacrificing…
Forgive me, he had said.
Could it be that simple? Could she trust him? What if she took that risk only to get hurt again?
Or what if she left tomorrow, and that proved to be the biggest mistake of her life?
For the first time in her entire existence, logic did not help her. There was no logical answer to this question. It demanded that she seek answers in a place she had never looked for answers before.
In her heart.
The grandfather clock at the end of the corridor chimed half past twelve.
She was still awake when the door opened a crack and light spilled in from the hallway. Startled that whoever it was hadn’t knocked, she sat up with a start. “Who is—”
She didn’t even finish the question. She recognized the tall, broad-shouldered silhouette in the doorway.
“I didn’t intend to wake you,” Max whispered tersely. “I tried to slip this under the door but it’s too thick.”
He crossed to the hearth in the moonlit darkness and placed whatever it was atop the mantel. “I thought you should have it before you left,” he bit out. “I won’t be here when you leave in the morning. Good-bye, Marie.”
He turned on his heel and stalked back toward the door.
“Wait,” she whispered tentatively. “Max…”
He stopped, his hand on the latch. “What, Marie? You’ve made it abundantly clear that you were telling me the truth the other day. You don’t love me. I finally believe you. No need for another demonstration. If I stay, I’ll end up asking you again to marry me—which will only anger you and torment me. I won’t do that to either one of us.’’
He opened the door.
“Max!”
He stopped again but didn’t turn around, didn’t speak.
She got out of bed. “I…I didn’t realize I wouldn’t be seeing you at all tomorrow.”
“I’ll be taking the compound to Whitehall first thing in the morning. I want this over with.” He turned to look at her at last, his jaw set, his eyes like ice in the moonlight. “All of it.”
That look and his tone stopped her in her tracks. She had hurt him. She wouldn’t have thought it possible, until this moment, but she had hurt him.
It made her own heart ache. “What is it that you wanted me to have?” she asked softly.
He nodded toward the mantel. “Something Ashiana brought me when I arrived home. She went to quite a bit of trouble to get it, and made Saxon furious in the process, so I thought I should at least pass it along. Not that it matters now.”
Marie glanced toward the mantel, logic warring with hope.
She went and picked up the small parcel.
And gasped in surprise. It was the letter, the one he had given her at the cottage, still sealed. And her magnifying glass, the small silver magnifying glass on a chain that he had given her in Paris.
“How did she find these?” she whispered, her back to him. “I…I had them hidden under the mattress in our bedroom at the cottage.”
“I don’t know. She mentioned some nonsense about thinking like a woman in love. Though I don’t see how that could possibly relate to you. But there they are. Consider them a going-away present.”
Flinching at his tone, she turned to face him. She hadn’t heard him this angry since…
Since that day in Paris when she had gotten lost and he couldn’t find her, when he thought he had lost her. The day, he had later explained, when he first realized he was in love with her.
He was in love with her.
She clutched the delicate little magnifying glass in the warmth of her hand, her eyes brimming with tears.
He had been telling her the truth all this time. He didn’t find her odd for being a scientist. He didn’t think her plain and dull and unattractive.
He really…loved her.
“I-I never did figure out how you knew to give me a magnifying glass,” she whispered. “How did you know that I always used to wear one?”
“I didn’t.” He looked away. “I bought it for you on impulse because I thought you might like it. First time in my life I ever did anything impulsive.”
“It was like the chocolate, wasn’t it? It wasn’t a trick, it was—”
“Chocolate has always been my favorite drink. Just something else we happened to have in common.”
She glanced down at the letter, blinking to clear her vision, looking at her name inscribed in bold strokes of black ink. “Can I…can I read this now?”
He hesitated, and she almost thought, though it was difficult to tell in the moonlight, that he trembled.
“It’s your choice,” he replied tersely.
“Will you stay while I read it?” she asked cautiously. Afraid he wouldn’t, she tried appealing to his logical side, “You’ve worn yourself out. You really should sit down.”
He looked as if he meant to argue with her, then didn’t. Closing the door, he went to sit on the settee beside the window, his handsome features taut with strain.
The grandfather clock in the corridor chimed one.
Marie lit the lamp beside her bed, sat on the mattress and unfastened the seal.
And as soon as she started reading, her eyes filled with a rush of hot tears.
Ma chère, it began, I know what you must be feeling at this moment, but please do not stop reading until you reach the end. I do not know if I’ll ever have another chance to tell you this, my love, and I have so much to say.
“Max,” she whispered, glancing up. “You wrote this that night…because you thought you might be killed, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
He still wouldn’t look at her.
Biting her lip to hold back a sob, she blinked hard and kept reading.
Words are so inadequate to describe what I feel for you, Marie, because you mean so much more to me than anyone I’ve ever known, and every day you mean more. You are radiance and intelligence and caring and unpredictability. You are a tender flower unfurling in the light by day, a gift from heaven in my arms at night.
I only wonder how it is that you remained unmarried so long—yet I am grateful. Grateful that you were there for me to find, so perfect in every way that you shine like a gem, luminous and brilliant and glorious. I thought I had everything I needed and wanted in life, until I met you and realized the truth.
The truth is that the love we’ve shared is the light in my life, ma chère, and if we’re parted by the events of this night or by God or by fate, I will remain in darkness until I am reunited with you in heaven.
Until I meet you again, whether in this life or the next, know that I am yours.
And it was signed, Forever and Always, Max.
Tears streaming down her cheeks, she raised her eyes to his—but he was looking down at his boots.
She felt breathless. “You weren’t using this to trick me. You specifically told me not to open it until…until you were gone.” She could barely speak. “You had nothing to gain when you wrote this.”
“I wanted you to know the truth.”
“But you had nothing to gain.”
“Everything to gain,” he corrected roughly. “Your love is everything to me. Without you, my life is over.”
He looked up at her at last, and she could see tears in his eyes.
She set the letter and the magnifying glass on her pillow and went to him.
“You’re right, Max. You’re right. Your life is over. And my life is over.” She reached down and touched his stubbled cheek. “But I think…I think that our life is just beginning.”
He gazed deeply into her eyes as if searching her soul, breathing hard. “Marie,” he choked out, “don’t say that if you don’t mean it.”
“I’ve never meant anything so much in my life.” She smiled through her tears. “Part of the reason I was afraid to believe in you was that I was afraid to believe in myself. Afraid to be the person I am with you. A woman who believes in dreams and romance. But now I…” She glanced heavenward. “I think that perhaps Véronique was right when she told me that I needed to change. To believe.” She stroked his jaw. “I believe in you, Max. I believe in us. Do you still want to marry me?”
He caught her in his arms, pulling her down onto his lap and burying his face in her hair. “Yes. Oh God, Marie, yes.”
“I love you.” She held him tightly. “I can’t bear to lose you, Max. I love you. I need you to be my husbandmax, forever and always.”
He lifted his head, smiling at her, his gray eyes dark and shining. “Forever.” He ran his thumb over the little cleft in her chin. “And always.” His mouth claimed hers in a deep kiss filled with longing and love.
She surrendered to the power of his need for her, the fires rising so swiftly between them that they seared away any lingering doubts that he could find her desirable. His tongue parted her lips, thrusting inside to explore and caress and claim, and the intensity of his passion sent her spinning into sweet memories.
And soaring into dreams of shared tomorrows.
He pressed her back against the plush cushions, his hand slipping beneath the sheer silk of her nightdress.
“Max,” she murmured against his mouth. “We can’t, not here, not with your family—”
“We’ll be very…” he whispered, unbuttoning his own garments, “very…” he repeated, gently parting her thighs, “quiet.”
His mouth covered hers and stole her reply.
A Scoundrels Kiss Page 35