The Notorious Proposal

by Terry Long

  Michael stood motionless, the firelight gilding his shape, while she shuffled her feet uncomfortably.

  “I wasn’t wrong. When one feels this…there’s nothing more he cares for, nothing more he wants.” His deep voice blanketed over her like soft caresses, and her heart doubled its rhythm. “It’s a pretty accurate assessment,” he went on. “You don’t have any control over it, because even when you don’t deserve to love this woman, when you tell every muscle in your body, with every ounce of strength left in you, that you couldn’t love this woman, didn’t have the right, you simply cannot stop from feeling it.” He raked a hand through his messy hair and lifted his face heavenward. “Any of it.”

  Another agonizing stretch of silence followed, making her yearn for the resonance of his voice.

  “You’re definite of only one thing in your life: that woman. You want to be close to her…touch her.” His sharp intake of breath crashed like a great ocean wave in her chest. “You want to feel her heartbeat,” he went on, causing her to swallow a growing lump in her throat, “and you want to taste her smile.”

  He paused as if deciding whether or not to finish telling this tale.

  Belatedly realizing that she’d taken a few more steps closer to him, she stopped mid-step and froze. Close enough now to see the strong structures of his features, Ally zoned in on them; his square jaws, his straight nose, his wide-set mouth. But still, she couldn’t see his eyes.

  “It’s horrible, this feeling. Feels like you’re falling,” Michael began again, his deep voice causing her to crave his touch that much more. “There’s nothing to catch you below. You know it, except you don’t care. You want to hold on to this single-sided feeling, because, by God, that is all you’ll ever have of her.”

  Rapid streams of tears burned down her cheeks, and when she was finally able to look into his dark eyes, she realized she’d taken the remaining steps, closing their distance. Michael’s gaze bore down on her face, searching hers as if willing himself to remember every line and contour.

  He looked disheveled: hair unkempt, unbrushed and a little longer than he regularly wore it. A strand fell over one eye, and although it made him appear careless, it appealed to her nevertheless. Her hand itched to brush it back for him, but she caught herself in time. Darken half-circle shadows rimmed beneath his haunted eyes. His jaws were dark and bristly, but even so, she wished to run her fingers there. The wrinkled clothing he wore implied he put absolutely no effort into grooming himself, and with further examination, she realized he was barefoot.

  No trace remained of the Michael Langdon she knew- the strong, powerful, and formal. And, truth be told, she wanted him back. Because when he’d shown a side of tenderness and compassion that he’d obscured deep below his stern façade, she found it inexplicably endearing, and it simply melted her heart.

  “This woman…you love her?” she whispered, wracked with anticipation for his words.

  “More than I’ve ever imagined possible.”

  A sob of both elation and relief escaped her, and she tried to swallow back the rest of it. Her chest contracted at the words she longed to hear. Michael, the arrogant, belligerent ogre loved her.

  “Please, don’t cry,” she heard him mumble. “I can’t bear it.” His expression illustrated pure heartache, and torture, and…love. So much love, it caused Ally to cry harder, to her dismay. There couldn’t be enough oxygen in the world for her to breathe, the way her chest pinched the air from her lungs.

  “Would you…” She wanted him to hold her, touch her. But most importantly, she wanted to comfort him. It pained her to see Michael so hurt. He’d always been so strong, and so powerful.

  “Anything,” he answered without pause. His eyes seemed to plead, scorching into hers. He took a step forward and stood so close to her, she caught a brief trace of the clean male scent she loved, before the blanketing whiff of spirits covered it again. Although he traced no finger along her skin, her body burned and her muscles sprung, leaving every hair to stand on her arms.

  “What do you want me to do?” he asked in a faint, hoarse whisper. “Tell me.”

  Unable to tell him, as she could hardly catch her breath, she shook her head instead. And to further make the simple task of speaking impossible, Michael settled down on one knee, his action slow and measured. Then he settled on the other as well, causing her head to spin like a whirlwind. Ally swallowed the lump in her throat as she watched him carefully put his arms around her thighs and rest his head against the flat of her stomach, his pace still deliberate, as if he didn’t want to startle her into fleeing. He couldn’t know, however, that she wasn’t planning on going anywhere.

  “I understand you cannot forgive me. But, allow me…allow me to make it up to you. Please.”

  His words, ragged with hope, pierced all the way through to her soul, basking her in pure warmth. He had no idea what his short, cautious speech did to her heart. And she could scarcely believe it. Michael Langdon knelt before her. She fought for air, fought to trample down the tautness in her chest, to make it disappear.

  “Ally. Ally.” He said her name as if it was a litany for unanswered litanies. “Tell me what you want me to do, sweetheart. Tell me. As God as my witness, I’ll do anything.”

  Staring down at the top of his head through a blur of tears, Ally willed herself to remain standing while she tried to quiet her sobs. She ran her fingers through the dark, thick waves of his hair, clutching him closer to her belly. “I don’t want much. I only want…I want you.”

  Like a thunderbolt, Michael pulled her down and enfolded his arms around her, holding her tightly in his grasp. It felt so wonderful to be lost in his embrace again, Ally squeezed her eyes shut and let her head drop against his solid chest.

  Right here, in Michael’s strong arms was where she longed to be. She felt protected, felt like she was finally home. She felt whole again.

  She didn’t know how long she sat there in his lap. It could have been five minutes or five hours. He carried her to the chaise in the corner, cradling her with caring arms while he scattered tender kisses down her cheek.

  “Do you remember when you asked me what I was afraid of?” he murmured against her skin.

  She’d never forget. It was the most glorious afternoon she’d spent with him.

  “You,” he said. “You scare me.”

  “Me?” Ally couldn’t help the crestfallen tone from escaping.

  “Yes, you.” He squeezed her tighter in his arms. “I’m afraid you’ll never let me love you.”

  Ally’s eyes filled with tears anew. Michael wiped them with his fingertips as soon as they fell.

  “You don’t have to be frightened of that any longer,” she whispered up at him.

  “I will never ask you to forgive me, because what I’ve done was unforgiveable. But just allow me to love you. I promise you, I will eagerly devote the remainder of my life making it up to you.”

  “Oh, Michael!” She sniffled, and nestled closer to his chest. After a moment of peaceful silence, Ally said in a soft voice, “Say it again.”

  “Say what?” he asked gruffly. His hands caressed up and down the length of her back.

  “That you love me.” He didn’t respond so she peeked up at him to see his solemn face looking back at her. He looked lost in thought; she planted her face back against his hard chest and closed her eyes, letting his warm breath envelope her senses. Ally stroked the hollow of his throat and whispered into the dark, “Say it, Michael.”

  In answer, he lifted her and carried her to bed. Once he laid her against the soft cushion, he touched her nose with his. “All this time, you didn’t know that I loved you?” He sounded dubious.

  She shook her head in answer.

  Michael cupped her jaw with one gentle hand. “Is this why you sent me away?” At her slow nod, his breath hitched. “I love you, sweetheart.”

  Ally swallowed back a sob.

  His dark gaze still bore into hers. “So very much. More than you’l
l ever know.” He pressed his warm lips against her brow, and descended lower until he kissed her fresh trail of tears.

  Michael’s heart-rending affection tore at her heart. Although she adored this sweeter, softer side of him he’d never shown before, it pained her to see him so vulnerable. Ally wanted for things to fall back to the way they were, when they bickered and disagreed about everything. In her own peculiar way, she missed that.

  “Mr. Langdon?” She smiled coyly.

  He raised his head, meeting her gaze with bloodshot eyes. He looked exhausted, but he traced her jaw with a finger as if unable to help himself. When his eyes focused, he gave her an affectionate smile. “Hmm?”

  “Are you suggesting a tryst?” she asked, stilling his hand with a firm grip. She tried to play stern, but his now smoldering gaze didn’t help in the least. She permitted him to go back to caressing her. “I’ll have you know that although I am something of a ruined woman due to an annulled marriage, I do not allow such liberties on my person.”

  His hand froze. “About that.” Michael cleared his throat, but didn’t elaborate.

  “Yes?”

  Wetting his lips, he lifted his gaze heavenward, as if searching for the right words. Then he rose from his knees and slid into bed beside her, tucking her body close. “You see, I’ve been quite busy, what with trying not to think about you all this time. I mean, you can’t blame me, you understand? The thing about it is, I find time to be unnaturally demanding—”

  “Mr. Langdon!”

  “Yes, sweetheart?”

  Ally hoisted herself to her elbows to frown at him. “You never annulled our marriage, did you?”

  He smiled sheepishly. “No.”

  She opened her mouth, and then closed it when no retort came. After some time, with him smiling, looking thoroughly like a cad, she demanded, “How could you? What if I were to marry?”

  He shrugged. “Then it wouldn’t be valid.”

  “You’d make me an adulterer?”

  Michael grinned. “No.”

  Ally sat up and folded her arms across her chest, waiting for his explanation. He smiled lazily and returned her steady gaze, inappropriately seeming to enjoy this exchange. He caressed the length of her arm with the back of his fingers.

  With all the strength she could muster, Ally fought against leaning into his touch. “Michael.”

  He sighed. “Would you have married again?”

  She swallowed her response because she didn’t want to confirm his accuracy. “That’s beside the point.” She scowled when his grin broadened tenfold.

  “If I said I am remorseful for not getting our marriage annulled, would you forgive me? I’m bloody sleepy.” A long yawn accompanied his illusive apology. “You can’t truly be upset that we’re still married. You love me, remember?”

  “You’re a—”

  “I know. I’m an ogre.” He gave her a wink and then closed his eyes. “Let me hold you, love.”

  Ally sighed, but consented to do as he wanted. She smiled as soon as he pulled her back up against his body. The heat of his chest and arms warmed her to the very soul. No, she wasn’t upset they were still married. In truth, the fact humbled her. He had never really let her go.

  Before Ally could get comfortable beside him, she heard him snore.

  She turned in his arms to reach up to smooth his unshaven jaw with a smile. Yes, she loved him, and damn the arrogant man, he knew it, too.

  Michael mumbled when she deftly scooted from the bed to set off below stairs to satisfy her rumbling belly. Ally twirled to look at him when he turned to his side, flinging his arm over the space she’d just left. “I’ll just be a moment,” she whispered, despite the fact that he wouldn’t have heard anyway.

  Ally spotted the Ann Radcliffe novel she had been reading, on his night table.

  A warm commotion washed from her heart to her toes when she pictured Michael wandering into the connecting chamber.

  And a smile curved her lips when she imagined him removing the delicate sprig of bluebells with his large hands to study it, doubtlessly reminiscing that extraordinary afternoon long ago.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Michael’s sudden presence commanded her full attention.

  He studied her across the expanse of the large sun room with dark, drowsy-like eyes, coupled with a meaningful smile. A shiver ran down her spine.

  Ally lowered the book onto her lap and sat up straighter in the settee. “Good morning, Mr. Langdon.”

  “Good morning to you.” His voice sounded thick, raw.

  She held his gaze while he strode to her, his steps slow, yet purposeful. He observed her with such tenderness and affection, causing her heart to swell to the point of bursting.

  “Why didn’t you wake me?” he asked, grazing her cheek with his fingers.

  Warm commotion spread through her body, making her stomach lurch. “You looked like you could use the rest,” she said hoarsely. She closed the book and grasped it, letting her fingers dig into its covers. Try as she might, she couldn’t slow the rhythm of her racing heart. It drummed, vibrating through the very length of her, pounding in her ears.

  Michael lifted her chin. His smoldering eyes locked with hers, his face a mere inch away. A heady scent of male soap filled her senses, stirring a hunger deep inside.

  With a will of its own, her hand found its place on his freshly shaven jaw, and she ran her fingers lightly against its coarse texture. Michael turned his mouth into her palm for a brief second before crouching down in front of her. Clasping her hand in both of his, he gave it a gentle squeeze and then turned it over to press a dozen kisses along her knuckles.

  “I thought I dreamt it all when I woke and didn’t see you,” he confessed with a hesitant smile that was all too endearing.

  “I didn’t wish to disturb you.”

  “I wish you would have,” he murmured against her hand. He raised his head to watch her, and then let a deliberate grin stretch across his handsome face.

  Ally averted her gaze when she couldn’t make herself tear away from his mouth.

  Michael let out a deep chuckle and drew her to her feet. The Mysteries of Udolpho tumbled to the floor. He eyed the book and the dried bloom that had fallen out. “You kept it.”

  She nodded.

  He pulled her into his arms, his breath fanning her cheek, transferring a wave of absolute bliss through her. “I’ll give you dozens more. You deserve an entire hillside of bluebells.” At his scattering of kisses onto the bridge of her nose, Ally’s legs promised to collapse.

  She closed her eyes at the sweet sensation surging through every muscle in her body. Ally never expected to feel this whole, this alive. In all her existence, nothing had ever felt so right. It felt like a dream.

  But Michael showed her it wasn’t. He slipped a hand along the curve of her neck, tilting her face up to his. He feasted on her mouth, scorching every crevice of her body. A stream of steady warmth rushed through her veins with every stroke of his sinfully hot tongue.

  The arm around her waist locked her, held her prisoner against his firm frame, but she couldn’t seem to get closer. A wicked and wild throb pulsated between her legs, growing more and more profuse by the second, winding her like a coiled spiral.

  By the time he pulled his lips from hers, Ally’s knees buckled. He hauled her closer, pressing his chest firmly to hers.

  “I think I’d like that,” she said in breathless anticipation. “The flowers,” she added when a flicker of male arrogance passed in his darkening eyes.

  Thrusting his rigid length against her stomach, he drawled in a deep and ragged voice, “Only the flowers? Do you wish nothing else, love?” He ground his hips against hers, further pushing her to the edge of impatience.

  Grabbing a fistful of his tunic, she tugged at it, hinting what she needed. If she didn’t get fulfillment soon, she feared she’d expire in his arms.

  As if able to interpret the wrenching of his garment for urgency, Michael carried he
r in one swift swoop. She assumed he would take her upstairs, but instead, he slammed the door shut with his foot and made his way back to the settee.

  Once he deposited her on the soft cushions, he ran a finger from her shoulder blade down to the hollow of her neck. She let out a moan and twisted at his clothing, unable to hold back any longer. Michael chuckled and stilled her trembling hands.

  “You first,” he murmured into her hair.

  During its short journey from the curve of her jaw to the length of her neck, his lips wandered ceaselessly. As he undressed her with nimble hands, she struggled with his shirt.

  Michael lifted his head, his gaze searing and unfocused. “Ally, sweetheart,” he managed in a husky tone. “I want to take care of you.”

  She let out moan of pleasure when he nibbled behind her ear and flicked a taut nipple with a loving hand, in the same moment.

  Michael broke their exquisite contact to stare at her bare breasts, her uncovered stomach, and much to Ally’s bashfulness, her exposed thatch of curls shielding her womanhood. He gave her an affectionate smile while he squeezed the flare of her hips, rubbing and kneading her heated skin.

  “Don’t be shy, sweetheart.” His voice came out in a grating rasp. Then he said more softly, almost as if to himself, “So lovely.”

  Her cheeks warmed and her heart fluttered frantically. Fingering his tunic, she whispered, “I want to feel you.”

  His eyes danced with mirth. “You just want to see me naked,” he countered, but began to shrug off his shirt anyway.

  “I—” She stopped herself when she realized that she did want to see him in that glorious state.

  Amusement tugged at the corners of his mouth when he covered her nakedness with his bare chest in tantalizing slowness. His sluggishness made her abandon all caution, and she didn’t care much for propriety at the moment. She’d never been any good at it anyway.