by Shana Galen
Armand held up an imperious hand. “There is something else I must say.”
She furrowed her brow. “I was going to assent.”
“Not until I tell you.”
She raised a brow, waiting.
He swallowed, opened his mouth, closed it again. Felicity couldn’t imagine what he wanted to tell her. Had he changed his mind? Did he not want to marry her?
“I love you,” he said.
Her heart stuttered. She actually felt it stop and then start again. It was painful and caused her blood to rush through her veins until it was pumping so loudly in her ears she could not hear anything else. “Wh-what?” Her voice sounded far away and shaky, not like her own voice at all.
He shook his head, reached out and took her cold hand in his large, warm one. “Julien said you would want the words. I’m not good with words.”
“Try,” she whispered, because she did want the words. Could he love her? She had loved him for so long. Her heart clenched, and she felt she had to force it to keep beating.
“I loved you the first moment I saw you.” He gestured to the stairs. “You sat at the pianoforte, and I had never seen anything as beautiful as you. I wanted to be near you, and I had not wanted to be near another human for so many years. But I wanted you.”
“I felt it for you, too.”
He grinned then looked serious again. “And then you touched me. No one could touch me. I had been beaten for so many of those early years in prison, touch meant pain to me. And then there were years with no touch, no contact. I almost would have welcomed a beating if it meant some sort of contact. When Julien rescued me, I found any touch was pain. It still is pain. My mother can’t touch me, my brother can’t. But you can. Only you.” He lifted her hand, put it to his heart. Because he wore only a thin linen shirt, she could feel the warmth of his skin through it, imagined she could feel his heart beating.
“Love is wanting to be with you when I wake up, yes? Love is doing anything for your smile. Love is dying for you. I would, if it came to that.”
She felt tears well up in her eyes. Her heart felt too full, felt as though it would burst. “That’s how I feel about you. That’s exactly how I feel.”
“Love is wanting you to be mine. Always.” He gestured to the special license she held in her trembling hands. “Marry me.”
“Oh, Armand—”
“Wait. Julien said there is a rule.” He knelt before her on one knee, put her hand to his mouth, kissed it. “Will you marry me, Felicity?”
She couldn’t say what seeing this wild, untamed man kneeling before her did to her heart. She did not want to tame him, but having him love her was more than she could have ever dreamed. She knelt before him, took his hands. “Yes, I’ll marry you. And I love you, too.”
He was up and pulling her into his arms before she could finish the words. “Good. Let’s go marry now.”
“Armand!” She laughed, and he wrapped her in his arms. “I don’t think we should marry this instant. I’ll need a dress, and I want my aunt to come. And I’m sure your mother has some people she would like to invite.”
Armand gave her a look that said his patience was all but exhausted, and she took his face in her hands. “Soon. As soon as we can.” She kissed him, and when he kissed her back, she could feel his love infusing her with warmth and joy.
***
He finally had her. It had taken a week to make all of the arrangements. Armand didn’t understand why they were all necessary, but Felicity seemed to think them important. And it made his mother happy. And Sarah. He thought Julien would have rather they married right away, but men didn’t make The Rules.
And now that he was at home at The Gardens, he really didn’t care about The Rules anymore. It was snowing outside, which wouldn’t normally deter him from his daily walk, but Felicity had cajoled him into sitting in the drawing room. She had a fire blazing in the hearth and his Christmas present—a black mongrel puppy—was dozing on the floor at his feet. She was at the pianoforte, playing a slow, dreamy song. He loved listening to her play. And now she could play for him anytime. All the time.
The clock chimed three times, and her hands stilled. He frowned. “It’s already three?” she said. “They’ll be here any moment, and I’m not finished with the wrapping.”
No one would care. He had told her this before, but it hadn’t seemed to make any difference. She wanted Christmas to be perfect.
“Do you hear that?” Now she was up and racing to one of the windows. “Those are the horses’ bells. Yes! They’re here! Come on.”
He would have preferred to sit where he was, but she grabbed his hand and pulled him to the door. Before their butler could do his duty, she had it open and was out in the snow, welcoming Julien, Sarah, and his mother. There were words and hugs and kisses, which Armand tolerated because he could see how happy it made Felicity to have family around her. She told him she wanted a large family, and when he realized what that entailed, he was happy to oblige her.
Sarah was noticeably with child now, and he wondered how Felicity would look, her belly round with his son or daughter.
A few moments later, they were all inside, and Felicity had the housekeeper pass out warm cider and chocolate. Julien insisted Sarah lie down in her room, and his mother went to settle her in. When it was just the three of them and the dog, Felicity sat at the pianoforte again, playing quietly, and Julien stood at the large hearth.
“I looked into the information you gave me about Captain Cutlass.”
“Who’s Captain Cutlass?” Felicity asked, her hands never pausing.
“A pirate who’s been harassing the English Navy for the past several years. He attacks foreign ships in and around the English coast, steals their cargo, and probably makes a tidy profit selling the luxury items. The Navy has been trying to capture him for some time, but they haven’t been successful. My information is that he actually enjoys engaging them, thinks of it as a game.”
Armand nodded. “That sounds like Bastien.”
Now her hands stilled. “Bastien? Your brother? I thought you were talking about a pirate.”
Armand looked at Julien, and his brother nodded. “I think they might be one and the same.”
“But how is that possible?”
“We’ll have to ask him,” Julien said. “I’ve been making inquiries, trying to find the best way to contact him. If we’re successful, we can reunite the whole family.”
Armand went to Felicity, put his hand on her shoulder.
Felicity covered it with her own. “I hope you find him—even if he is a pirate. I can’t think of anything better than having your whole family together again.”
“Neither can I—”
“Julien, I am not going to lie down all afternoon. I’m not tired.” Sarah’s voice floated in the hallway, and Julien scowled.
“That woman refuses to rest. I didn’t even want her coming all this way in the carriage. It jostles her. I’ll be right back.” A moment later, Armand could hear the couple arguing, Julien firm and Sarah just as stubborn.
Felicity stood. “Perhaps next Christmas your brother Bastien will be here, as well.”
He put his arm around her, drew her close. She sighed contentedly, and together they stared into the crackling fire in the hearth. At one time fire had represented destruction, his life in ashes. Now, with Felicity beside him, he welcomed the warmth. He looked at his wife bathed in the soft glow of the firelight. With a smile, she kissed him. “I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you.” And he finally knew all that the word meant.
Acknowledgments
As always, thank you to my husband Mathew for all of your support and patience as I struggled through this novel. Thank you to Christina Hergenrader and Linda Andrus for reading this book over and over and over and always offering a fresh take and new suggest
ions. Thank you to Deb Werksman for your suggestions and encouragement. To my agents Joanna MacKenzie and Danielle Egan-Miller—thank you for believing in me and all your hard work on my behalf.
About the Author
Shana Galen is the author of six Regency historicals, including the Rita-nominated Blackthorne’s Bride. Her books have been sold in Brazil, Russia, Turkey, Spain, and the Netherlands and featured in the Rhapsody and Doubleday Book Clubs. A former English teacher in Houston’s inner city, Shana now writes full time. She is a happily married wife and mother with one daughter and one spoiled cat. She loves to hear from readers: visit her website at www.shanagalen.com.