Miss Benwick Reforms a Rogue
Page 28
She could feel the heat invade her cheeks, her heart giving a pathetic leap in her chest, then sinking like a stone as she realized what he’d called her.
“But that’s just it—I’m not Fawkes. I’m Davina Benwick.”
“Fawkes, Davina, whatever your name, does it matter?”
She shook her head. “You liked Fawkes. But how could you possibly like Davina?”
He looked at her as if she’d grown horns. “Of course, of course I like her. I more than like her.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her against his body, gazing down at her with as unguarded an expression of adoration as she’d ever seen. “I love her. I love you.”
Well, that was rather unequivocal.
“Julian…” she said, unable to contain her tears any longer, or the way her heart melted at his vehemence.
“I love you,” he whispered ardently, “whatever your name is, whatever mask you wear. In breeches or a skirt, you’re the same person I met that first day, poking me with a stick in a ditch. I love you. So much, Davina. Do you not believe me?”
“I’m starting to,” she murmured through her tears.
He smiled down at her gently and continued. “I love your sharp tongue, your pigheadedness, your courage. I love the way you refuse to let me get away with anything. I love that you make me laugh. And I love the way you look at me when you think I can’t see, like I’m worth loving.”
“Of course you are,” she insisted, wiping at her tears. This was more than she could have ever hoped for.
He pulled her even closer, careful of her wounded side, until their lips were almost touching, his own eyes full of unshed tears. He ran a hand through her short curls and groaned, his eyelids flickering in bliss at the feeling.
“I love your hair,” he whispered, hot breath caressing her cheek. “So soft. And bright as sunlight. I can only imagine what it must look like when it is grown out.” He caressed the delicate skin over her cheekbone with one rough-tipped thumb until she was shivering from it. “I love your skin—how I ever could have mistaken it for a man’s is baffling. And, God help me,” he said, his hand dropping downward to the curve of her backside, causing her to blush even more than she was already doing. “I love your arse most of all. You don’t know how I questioned my sanity every time you bent over in these unmentionables…”
“Inexpressibles,” she corrected, then squeaked when he gave her backside a cheeky pinch. She swatted him away with a mock glare. “And you are incorrigible.”
His smirk finally returned. “You are the same person as you ever were, Davina. I am in love with you. It doesn’t matter what name you go by or what clothes you’re wearing—though I admit these boots of yours gave me serious pause…”
She gave him a halfhearted smack on the shoulder. “Leon spent a small fortune on these boots.”
He gathered her close once more, making his disinterest in Leon’s imprudent purchasing habits very clear. “Even when I thought you were a man, my heart didn’t care,” he continued. “For the first time since I lost my family, you made me feel. Made me happy.”
“You make it sound like an accusation,” she said lightly.
“Well, it was very inconvenient,” he said with mock outrage. “I was in the midst of smiting my greatest enemy. I wasn’t looking to be happy. With my secretary, no less.”
“Well, then I apologize for the inconvenience,” she said archly.
“But now I’ve had a taste of it,” he continued gravely, “I don’t think I could bear to lose it again.”
“What do you propose, then?”
He grinned. “I propose that you remain by my side forever.”
Her heart soared with unabashed joy, but she didn’t want to make this too easy on him.
“I already told you, I have no interest in remaining as your secretary,” she told him primly.
“A pity,” he replied, looking disappointed. “The only other position I could offer you would be that of my wife. I don’t suppose you’d be interested in that, though.”
Well, perhaps she would go easy on him after all. With a grin, she grasped him by the lapels and pulled him down into a kiss. She hoped that was answer enough for him. It seemed to be, for his arms encircled her completely, his lips hot, wet, and eager, as if he was determined never to let her go again.
She had no problem with this.
Eventually, however, they were forced to separate long enough to draw breath into their lungs, and he smiled down at her with gentle adoration. Without warning, he stepped away from her, his expression brightening as if he’d remembered something important. She stared in confusion as he plucked a yellow camellia from a nearby bush and held it out to her.
“Hardly red roses,” he murmured. “But someone once told me these were much more appropriate.”
To her eyes, the single bloom was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. She took it from him and held it up to her nose, inhaling its sweet scent.
“Yellow camellia, my favorite,” she murmured, giving him a soft, secret smile. “How did you know?”
The End
Other Works By Maggie Fenton
The Regency Romp Trilogy
The Duke's Holiday
Virtuous Scoundrel
The Alabaster Hip
Books written as Margaret Foxe:
The Elders and Welders Chronicles
Prince of Hearts
A Dark Heart
Thief of Hearts
About the Author
Maggie Fenton dabbles in witty historical romance when she's not playing and teaching beautiful music on the violin and piano. She also writes steampunk romance under the pseudonym Margaret Foxe. Join her on her website, www.maggiefenton.com, or on facebook @maggiefentonromance.