by Mary Balogh
She shook her head.
“You are not going to deny it, are you, Allie?”
“You are talking nonsense,” she said.
“Am I?” He pushed himself away from the mantel and came purposefully toward her. She resisted the urge to turn and run.
He took her by the shoulders when he came up to her and turned her away from him. He drew her back against him. She closed her eyes and bit down hard on her upper lip as he spread both hands beneath her breasts and moved them slowly down her body. She rested her head back against his shoulder.
“You must be very thankful for this modern fashion of gowns that fall loose from beneath the bosom,” he said. “They hide the loss of a waistline quite admirably.”
She said nothing. What was there to say?
“So, Allie.” He kept his hands spread on her. He spoke into her ear. “You had better marry me.”
“No,” she said. “Never.” She pushed herself away from him. “Go away, Piers. Please go away.”
“And let my child be born a bastard?” he said. “And let him have Web’s name? No, not that, Allie. Web always had everything I most wanted. And though I always envied him, I was never jealous, for he deserved everything he had a thousand times more than I would have done. But I will not allow him to have my child. Our child. Don’t expect that of me.”
“You don’t have to take responsibility,” she cried, whirling on him. “And you don’t have to feel this terrible male need to protect. You don’t have to, Piers. Because to me there is no disaster, I want this child. I could not possibly want anything more. In three months I have not been able to feel any guilt or any panic. And it does not matter that he will have Web’s name. For he will always know that he is yours. And I will know that he is yours. I would not wish it otherwise if I could.”
“Allie.” He reached out to wipe a tear from her cheek that she had not even realized was there. “I wish it could be made otherwise. I wish for your sake it could be Web’s. I wish I could bring him back for you and change this whole situation.”
“Ohh!” she said. “Piers! Are you blind? Can’t you see? Have you been blind all these years? Haven’t you known that it has always been you? Always? From the time I was fourteen and in braids?”
She whisked herself over to a sofa and sat down on it. She rested her elbows on her knees and covered her face with her hands. And began to tremble. Had he left the room? Why the silence?
“So,” he said finally. His voice sounded quite unlike itself. “You can have no objection to marrying me, then, Allie.”
“I will not marry you just because you have got me with child, Piers,” she said wearily into her hands.
“It seems we have been sharing a mutual blindness,” he said very quietly. It sounded as if he were much closer.
She looked up sharply. He was stooped down on his haunches in front of her.
He looked into her eyes and nodded his head. “Not quite so soon, though,” he said. “I had to wait for the braids to disappear and some shape to blossom. You were fifteen.”
She lost sight of him after a few more silent moments. She was biting hard on her upper lip again.
“Allie,” he said, “A fifteen-year blindness. Suddenly ended. The light is dazzling, is it not?”
She nodded.
“I fell in love with you when I saw you that summer,” he said. “I adored you for years afterward. You were so lovely, so pure, so totally unattainable. I married Harriet to try to forget you. I finally convinced even myself that I had done so. I convinced myself that you were just the dearest friend a man has ever had. Until that night in London, Ailie. Blinding sight restored.”
“You seemed so far beyond me,” she said. “You were twenty-one, dashing, and handsome, and I just fourteen. I loved you passionately. I always dreamed of your loving me, far back where dreams are kept, though I loved Web with all the reality of everyday living. I have never stopped loving you, Piers, and I have never been able to regret what happened that night. Or its consequences. It was the most beautiful night of my life.”
“Well,” he said, running a knuckle lightly along her jawline. “Well.”
They smiled tentatively at each other in the silence that followed.
“Allie,” he said, “we must offer a prayer for Cassandra’s and Lansing’s happiness. And don’t smile, wicked woman. I am in deadly earnest. I might not be here now—I would not be here now—if they had not decided to elope.”
“No.” Her smile faded.
He reached out a hand to put a lock of hair behind her ear. “Is this what pregnancy does to you?” he asked. “I have never known you as untidy as you have been today, Allie.”
“Oh,” she said.
“Very eloquent,” he said. “Or so beautiful, I should add, just in case I have given the wrong impression. If pregnancy makes you beautiful, I shall have to keep you beautiful for the next ten years or so, shan’t I?”
“Oh, Piers,” she said shakily, “I feel dumb and stupid. I cannot think of any witty reply.”
“I shall allow you six months to recover your wits,” he said, framing her face with his hands and stroking his thumbs gently over her cheeks as he kissed her softly on the lips, parting his own. “And then give you a year or so before I set about making you beautiful and witless again.”
“Piers!” She laughed shakily. “You are supposed to tell me that I am always beautiful.”
“The devil! Am I?” he said. “I shall do so, then, Allie. On one condition.”
She looked at him inquiringly.
“That first you tell me both that you love me and that you will marry me,” he said.
“I love you.” She moved forward so that her forehead touched his. “And I will marry you, Piers.”
“In that case you are beautiful,” he said. “Always so beautiful. And will be when you are nine and a half months huge with our child and when you are eighty years old. And I love you, Alice Penhallow. Alice Westhaven. Since you have forced my hand, I will marry you, too, you see.”
She smiled.
“Now,” he said, “two things to be done before I take myself off out of here and save your housekeeper from the vapors. A lengthy and lascivious and quite out-of-control kiss. And comfort from a mother-to-be to the terrified expectant father. Which should we put first?”
“Oh, Piers,” she said, putting her arms about his neck, “don’t be afraid. When I had Nicholas, the doctor told me I was one of those fortunate women who have babies so easily that it is almost not fair to the others. Don’t be afraid. I am not. I have been so excited for three months that I have scarce known how to contain my joy. Be excited with me for six more.”
“Well, if it’s excitement you are asking for, Allie,” he said, getting to his feet and holding to her elbows so that she was forced up with him, “we might as well proceed to the second matter of business. Lengthy, I said, did I not?” He wrapped his arms about her and kissed her lingeringly, his tongue tracing slowly the line of her lips, before drawing back his head to smile at her.”
“And lascivious,” she said, threading her fingers through his hair and bringing herself full against him. “I like that part, Piers.”
“Do you?” he said. “Shameless woman. And out of control. That is the part I like best.”
“Me too,” she said against his mouth.
“We had better get started, then,” he said, “or that poor woman is going to be in a senseless heap on the floor outside before we reach the end.”
“Mm,” she said while she still could, “are we going to reach the end, Piers?”
“Never,” he said. “I lied. I sometimes do, Allie. Never the end, my love. Not now that I have you at last. Only beginnings. Like this, you see.”
He opened his mouth over hers.
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Mary B
alogh was born and educated in Wales and now lives with her husband in Saskatchewan, Canada. She has written more than one hundred historical novels and novellas, more than thirty of which have been New York Times bestsellers. They include the Bedwyn saga, the Simply quartet, the Huxtable quintet, and the seven-part Survivors’ Club series.
Also By Mary Balogh
The Survivors’ Club Septet
The Proposal
The Suitor
The Arrangement
The Escape
Only Enchanting
Only a Promise
Only a Kiss
Only Beloved
The Huxtable Quintet
First Comes Marriage
Then Comes Seduction
At Last Comes Love
Seducing An Angel
A Secret Affair
The Simply Quartet
Simply Unforgettable
Simply Love
Simply Magic
Simply Perfect
The Bedwyn Saga
Slightly Married
Slightly Wicked
Slightly Scandalous
Slightly Tempted
Slightly Sinful
Slightly Dangerous
The Bedwyn Prequels
One Night For Love
A Summer to Remember
The Mistress Trilogy
More Than A Mistress
No Man’s Mistress
The Secret Mistress
The Horsemen Trilogy
Indiscreet
Unforgiven
Irresistible
The Web Trilogy
The Gilded Web
Web of Love
The Devil’s Web
A Promise of Spring
Standalone Novels
A Certain Magic
An Unlikely Duchess
Lady with a Black Umbrella
Red Rose
Christmas Miracles
Christmas Gifts
Silent Melody
Heartless
Beyond the Sunrise
Longing
A Christmas Promise
The Trysting Place
A Counterfeit Betrothal
The Notorious Rake
A Christmas Bride
Christmas Beau
A Matter of Class
Dark Angel
Lord Carew’s Bride
The Famous Heroine
The Plumed Bonnet
The Temporary Wife
Thief of Dreams
The Last Waltz
Courting Julia
Dancing With Clara
Tempting Harriet
Truly
Tangled
Deceived
The Ideal Wife
A Precious Jewel
The First Snowdrop
Christmas Belle
The Incurable Matchmaker
Snow Angel
The Secret Pearl
The Obedient Bride
A Gift of Daisies
Daring Masquerade
The Ungrateful Governess
An Unacceptable Offer
Secrets of the Heart
Gentle Conquest
The Constant Heart
A Chance Encounter
The Wood Nymph
A Masked Deception
The Double Wager