Surrender to Me
Page 23
Astrid pulled back to look deeply into his eyes. Her fingers came up to cover his on her cheeks. “Rescue you?” She shook her head. “You rescued me,” she whispered starkly. “In every way. You’ve given me life, Griffin. Breathed it into my very soul, my heart.”
“We’ll call it a draw, then. We rescued each other.” His thumbs shifted, tracing small circles on her cheeks. “Marry me, Astrid. Marry me today.”
She smiled.
What he was suggesting was absurd, terrifying. The unknown. Stark and real. And she had never been happier, more thrilled at the prospect.
“I love you, Astrid,” he said, his voice hoarse and deep, reverberating through her.
She closed her eyes, the words squeezing at her heart. “I can’t recall the last time I heard anyone say those words to me.” And until now, she had not known she wanted to hear them. Needed to hear them.
His hands tightened on her face, his blue eyes glittering with deep intensity. “You’re going to hear those words every day. As you deserve. So much you’ll learn to take them for granted. I promise you that.”
“I love you.” Turning her face into his hand, she kissed his palm, thinking she would never tire of those words, never take for granted words she had heard so little in her life. “I love you, Griffin.”
He pulled her hard against him, responding with a kiss. His hands slid from her face to the tiny buttons at the top of her dress. “Love me, Astrid.”
She laughed lightly against his lips, lodging a half-hearted complaint as he plied his fingers through her hair, loosening the pins.
“The reverend is waiting,” she reminded, gasping when his hand closed over one breast.
“He can wait. All damn night if need be,” Griffin muttered.
Astrid gave a small yelp as he swung her up into his arms and carried her to the bed. “I, however,” he added, “can’t wait another moment. You love me.” His blue eyes glinted down at her. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re my wife.”
Running a hand along his square jaw, she waited for the whispers in her head, the ones that had always been there, calling for duty and restraint, to remind her that people waited downstairs, no doubt talking about them, speculating…
And yet nothing. Nothing could be heard save the beating of her heart, the hum of her blood rushing in her ears. All for love. For Griffin. For living and loving freely for the first time in her life.
Griffin stopped at the bed, his arms cradling her tightly against him. She could feel the thud of his heart against her side, matching the rhythm of her own.
“Astrid?” he murmured and her gaze slid up to his, reading the silent question there…the patience and understanding in the pale blue depths.
He would do whatever she wished. Restrain himself, save his passion, deny spontaneity, and stow away his desire for later. He would pull away, take her downstairs and properly wed her before he touched her again. For her. Because he loved her.
The old Astrid would have taken the offer. And felt the correct, respectable lady for it. Whether true or not, she would have cloaked herself in the façade and never surrendered to passion, to him, herself.
Glancing down, she slid her fingers beneath his vest, caressing the firm chest through his shirt. “Are we still wearing our clothes?”
Grinning, he dropped her on the bed. “Not for long. Not for long.”
Epilogue
“How long are we going to sit here?” Griffin asked, his voice warm as a summer breeze sweeping through her. Especially welcome considering that Yorkshire was almost as cold as the Highlands this early in spring.
Griffin glanced out the window. “The servants are likely wondering at the carriage sitting in the drive.”
“Hmmm,” Astrid murmured with a nervous tilt of her head, fingers tapping her lips anxiously as she glanced out the part in the curtain and considered the impressive home of the Earl of Moreton.
“Forever, then?” he asked at her continued silence.
Astrid shook her head vigorously, smoothing gloved hands over her muslin skirts. “Just a bit longer.”
She had taken great pains with her wardrobe this morning. Rising early, she had left Griffin asleep, naked and tangled enticingly in the bed linens at the nearby inn where they had taken lodgings.
Griffin smiled indulgently and moved across the carriage to sit beside her. He plucked her hand from her lap and ran his thumb over the back of her glove. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Yes. I do.” With a deep, bracing breath, she nodded and allowed him to escort her from the carriage. The front door opened before they knocked, the butler’s ready gaze telling them that their presence had long been known.
Moments later, they found themselves led into a well-appointed drawing room. Astrid glanced around, contented to see that Portia lived in such comfort.
“I will inform Lady Moreton of your presence.” Bowing, the butler left them. The moment the door clicked shut, she sagged against a chintz-covered sofa.
Griffin sank down beside her, his eyes meeting hers in concern. “You’re certain you want to do this?”
“It’s long overdue.”
“I don’t think you have anything to be sorry about.” He tapped her nose fondly. “As far as I’m concerned, you couldn’t be more perfect.”
She snorted and shook her head. “You must really love me.”
He leaned over her, lips brushing hers in several nibbling bites. “I must.”
Her fingers curled into his jacket as he deepened their kiss, their tongues mating in a feverish kiss.
The click of the drawing room doors registered dimly. Shoving at his broad shoulders, she wiggled out from beneath him and rose to greet her sister-in-law.
“Astrid,” Portia murmured, blue eyes blinking in astonishment.
Bertram’s sister had matured into every inch the elegant lady, her once waifish appearance long gone. With her jet tresses arranged elegantly atop her head and her gown of deep blue, she looked the perfect countess.
“Hello, Portia,” she murmured, resting a hand on Griffin’s arm. “This is my husband, Griffin Shaw MacFadden.”
Griffin stood tall at her side, inclining his head ever so slightly, a polite smile on his lips, but in his eyes lurked a wariness, a readiness to pounce and defend if Astrid were in any way affronted. She slid her fingers down his arm to lightly encircle his wrist, letting the simple touch stay his impulse to shield her.
“Your husband?”
Flushing, Astrid realized she had not even shared the news of Bertram’s demise. With fumbling fingers, she pulled Bertram’s signet ring from her reticule and handed it to Portia.
Portia accepted the ring, studying it.
“I’m sorry, Portia.” She fought to swallow down the sudden lump in her throat. “Your brother is dead. Buried in a churchyard in Dubhlagan, Scotland.”
A deep sigh rattled loose from Portia’s chest. “I can’t say I’m surprised. If anything, I would have thought Bertram met his end long ago. He certainly did nothing to promote a long, prosperous life.”
“No,” Astrid murmured, thinking of how Bertram had died. How he had lived. “He did not.”
Portia lifted her gaze from the ring. “And you’ve remarried.”
“Yes.”
She nodded slowly. “If Bertram’s death brought nothing else, I’m glad it gave you your freedom.” She glanced once at Griffin before settling her gaze back on Astrid. “And love.”
Astrid’s face warmed. She reached for Griffin’s hand. He laced his fingers through hers in a reassuring grip.
“Thank you for bringing the news in person. You didn’t need to do that.”
“Yes. I did.”
Portia’s slight smile slipped. “Don’t tell me you’ve harbored some sense of guilt or responsibility all these years.”
“I did you a disservice—”
“No harm done.” Portia cut in with a wave of her hand. “I’m happy. I have a doting husband and two lovely
children. Don’t waste another moment fretting over the past.”
Astrid blinked.
With a rueful shake of her head, Portia stepped close and embraced Astrid. Stunned, Astrid could hardly breathe, much less move within the circle of arms.
“It happened a long time ago,” Portia murmured near her ear. “I’m simply relieved to see you happy.” Pulling back, she dropped her arms and gave an encouraging wink. “Now return home. Enjoy your life.”
With a single nod, Astrid met Griffin’s devoted gaze, a great lightness sweeping through her at the love she saw reflected there, the same love she felt within her. “I already am. I already am.”
About the Author
SOPHIE JORDAN, a former high school English teacher, resides in Houston with her family. When she’s not writing, she divides her time between inventing what she likes to call culinary masterpieces—her husband won’t always agree—and visiting her family’s pecan ranch in the Texas Hill Country. Sophie also writes paranormal romances under the name Sharie Kohler (www.shariekohler.net).
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Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
SURRENDER TO ME. Copyright © 2008 Sharie Kohler. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub © Edition JUNE 2008 ISBN: 9780061983047
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