“Not anymore.” There was a muffled sob beside her. “Harlow hates me.”
“He doesn’t hate you. He’s disappointed in you. You will have to earn back his trust and respect, but I know you can do that. Just give him time.”
Jeremy swallowed. “What about you? Can you learn to forgive me and love me after what I have done?”
She nodded. “I believe so. Especially if you do something for me.”
“Anything!”
“Then I want you to promise that you’ll be the best owner Mansfield Manor and the estate has ever had. My father—our father—gambled everything away, and cared nothing for the estate. I want you to promise to take pride in it, and restore it to its former glory.”
She’d heard his gasp. “But I can’t take Mansfield Manor after what I did.”
She sighed. “Jeremy, I thought you and I were realists. Harlow has lived with privilege all his life. Everyone does as he wishes. He doesn’t understand what it is like in the real world. We both know I’ll never be able to manage Mansfield Manor on my own—not now. Not blind. And I wouldn’t want to. I want someone who has the estate in his blood, someone like you, who will restore it and show the world how prosperous and beautiful it can be. Will you let me live with you at Mansfield Manor? That’s all I ask.”
“But when you marry Harlow,” the boy said, slowly, “he can look after Mansfield Manor for you.”
Caitlin laughed. “Marry Harlow? Jeremy, what did I just say about being realists?” She turned her head least he see her unshed tears. “Whoever heard of a blind duchess? Harlow needs a wife who can stand by him in Society and help him manage his households. He does not need a woman who will be nothing but a burden to him.”
“I need a woman who completes me. Who fills my soul with song, and who can bring me to my knees in adoration with one simple smile.”
Caitlin started. She’d been so busy talking to Jeremy she had not heard Harlow enter the room, but suddenly his scent invaded her darkness and cloaked her in yearning.
She felt Jeremy stand and heard him quickly walk to the door and leave the room.
“I will not hold you to marriage out of guilt and pity.” She kept her voice steady. “This accident is not your fault.”
“Of course it is my fault. I should never have let you race.”
“Let me? As if you could have stopped me.”
He did not reply and silence invaded her space. How she longed to see his handsome face and read his thoughts. She almost doubled over with the pain when she realized she never would see him again. Never see that sensual smile, the fire in his eyes, or the curls that lent him a boyish air. How could she marry him knowing that? He deserved a wife who could share in all his life.
Two strong arms suddenly wrapped around her and lifted her off the bed. In the next instant she was seated in Harlow’s lap, hugged tightly to his massive chest.
“I don’t want to marry you out of guilt or pity,” he said. “Don’t you understand? I need you. I’m a selfish bastard; I know I’m asking a lot of you to love a man who, through his own vanity and pride, did this to you. But I swear that if you do me the honor of becoming my wife, I shall worship you until the day I die.”
“But I can’t see you,” she cried on a wracking sob.
Harlow breathed in deeply. “But you can smell me. I know, because I can smell you. Your scent is unique and it drives me wild. And you can hear me.” He whispered something scandalous in her ear and her body tightened with lust. “And you can taste me.” He moved his mouth to hers and kissed her deeply. While he continued to kiss her he placed her hand on his groin. Breaking the kiss, he whispered hoarsely, “And you can feel me. Feel how much I want you? And only you.”
Caitlin ran her fingers over the hard length of his straining arousal, reveling in the feel of him. She slid her palm down from tip to scrotum and felt him pulse in his trousers, seeking her touch. A shiver rippled through her body.
“Does that feel like a man who desires you out of guilt or pity?” he asked, placing her hand on his chest, over his heart. “Feel how it beats powerfully for you. Without you by my side I know it will shrivel up and die. I love you, Caitlin Southall. Don’t make me live without you just to punish me.”
She couldn’t see truth in his face, but she could hear it in his words. They rang with sincerity. Choked with emotion.
She pressed a kiss to his lips. “Then yes, Harlow Telford, Duke of Dangerfield,” she whispered. “I shall risk my heart on you. I will marry you, and be your duchess.”
His lips sought hers in a possessive kiss. His taste and touch swept any misgivings from her mind. Her body hummed with longing and she ran her hands all over his arms, chest and through his thick hair. His hand began to gather her skirts but she stopped him.
“I’ll marry you on one condition.”
“Anything!”
She almost smiled. Two brothers. The same response. “I want you to give Mansfield Manor and the estate to Jeremy, as you promised.”
Silence. Then he said, in a hard tone, unlike the gentle one he’d used to her for days, “He does not deserve it. Not after what he did.”
She sighed. “We all make mistakes, Harlow. Neither of us is innocent in this debacle. Jeremy is young. He will live with his guilt all his life—and that is the worst punishment I can think of. He will need us to love and forgive him. I want him to have Mansfield Manor. After what father did to him and your mother, he deserves it. Besides, he will love and cherish the estate more than anyone I know.”
He sighed. “God, how I love you. Your generous spirit and beautiful soul humble me.” He kissed her tenderly. “If that is your wish, then it’s done. I hope Jeremy realizes what a wonderful sister he has.”
Caitlin nuzzled his neck, letting his scent fill her darkness. “Why don’t you show me exactly how wonderful I am?”
“How I love a challenge.” And Harlow gently laid her down upon the bed and didn’t disappoint.
Epilogue
In the three months since Caitlin lost her sight she had never felt the loss as greatly as she did today.
It was her wedding day, yet she could not see herself in her dress. Nor, when she walked down the aisle, would she be able to see the expression on Harlow’s face as she came towards him.
However, while it might not be the day she’d dreamed of as a girl, she could never have dreamed of a better lover, friend, and husband-to-be. Harlow doted on her. She’d stayed on at Telford Court to learn the layout of the house, and so that Jeremy could take over Mansfield Manor. Harlow said he wanted her at Telford so he could be with her every night.
The nights were spent making wondrous love. Her lack of sight hadn’t diminished Harlow’s desire for her one bit.
However, losing one of her senses seemed to have strengthened all the others, and their lovemaking was more intense and satisfying every time. Harlow couldn’t get enough of her.
She pressed a hand gently to her belly. Thank goodness they were marrying, as she was sure she was with child. She’d missed her monthly courses. She hadn’t told Harlow yet. She would tell him tonight. It would be her wedding present to him.
She hoped it was a boy, and that he would look just like his father; thick black curls, mesmerizing grey eyes, and a smile that could soften the hardest heart. A wave of sadness filtered through her joy. She would never see her child—or any of her children. But she would not let that spoil her happiness in them. Harlow would describe them to her. She would see them through his eyes.
Caitlin’s veil was in place and her nerves had been calmed with a shot of brandy. Finally, the dressmaker hired to make Caitlin’s dress declared that she was ready and left the room to give her a moment to herself.
Caitlin didn’t really need the time alone but she was grateful for the woman’s thoughtfulness. She loved Harlow more than life itself, and she was sure he loved her. But she still couldn’t help thinking this wasn’t fair to him. He had made so many changes to accommodat
e her blindness. Everyone had. She’d tried hard to learn her way around without any help—and had the bruises to prove it. She used a stick to watch for objects but the staff were fabulous at ensuring everything stayed exactly in its place.
She turned, and started for the door. Then she remembered her mother’s pearls. She’d forgotten to ask the dressmaker to put them on for her. Without thinking, she turned back and hurried towards the dresser and her jewelry box. She took three steps before her shin made solid and painful contact with something in a place where it shouldn’t have been. She clawed at the air, found nothing to grab hold of, and fell heavily over the thing at her feet. She cried out. There was a sharp pain in her head as she struck something, and then the darkness got darker.
Caitlin came back to consciousness to a rush of worried voices all around her.
A woman was softly crying. “My apologies, duchess. I’m so sorry. I didn’t think to move my stool.”
“Should I fetch His Grace?” It was the butler.
“No.” It was Lydia, the Dowager Duchess. “She’s coming round. She’s just had a slight bump, that’s all.”
It took Caitlin a moment to understand the significance of the grey light around her. Her shin throbbed and her temple ached. She blinked, and then opened her eyes wide.
She could see. She tried not to let her shock show in her expression. She didn’t want to let them know—to build up hope. What if she was wrong and the blackness returned? But she could make out shapes, and she could see… see Lydia’s concerned, motherly face peering down at her.
Caitlin struggled to sit up. “I’m fine, everyone. I simply tripped.” She looked down her wedding dress and ran her hands over the satin skirt. She lifted it slightly to check and, without thinking, said, “Thank goodness it’s not torn.”
The chatter stopped as if frozen in time.
She looked at her soon to be mother-in-law, and saw tears well up in those familiar, beautiful grey eyes. Warm hands framed Caitlin’s face, and the duchess showered kisses on her. “Oh my God, you can see.”
The room erupted into excited chatter and shouts, and all the servants—and the dressmaker—were in tears.
“Please don’t tell Harlow,” Caitlin begged them. “I want to surprise him.”
They helped her stand, straightened her clothing, and Caitlin walked toward the mirror glass. She stood looking at herself in her wedding dress, not quite believing she could see.
“It’s a miracle,” she whispered.
“I’ve called for Doctor Spencer,” Lydia said, as she moved to stand at her shoulder. “As a precaution. Just in case.”
Caitlin smiled and blinked back tears. “I don’t care if I lose my sight again, as long as it’s not until after my wedding. I want to be able to look into Harlow’s face when I say my vows.”
“Then let’s not keep him waiting, he might be getting nervous and think you've changed your mind.”
Caitlin’s father, the Earl of Bridgenorth, had been invited to the wedding. Lydia had said it was time to put the past behind them. But her father had declined to come. No one was surprised, certainly not Caitlin. She’d begun to understand—and come to terms with—her father’s character. He could not face up to his past behavior. He would never admit he’d done any wrong, and she could never respect him because of it.
The small village church was filled to overflowing. They were getting married there because Caitlin wanted all the villagers to share in her joy. Mrs. Darcy had baked the wedding cake. In her father’s absence she was being walked down the aisle by Henry St. Giles.
As she entered on his arm, Caitlin’s nerves vanished. She’d never felt surer of the step she was taking. She loved Harlow so much, and when she saw him gazing at her with such pride and love shining from his eyes, she knew he loved her.
Henry handed her into Harlow’s keeping and her heart went soft at her almost-husband’s warm endearment. “You look beautiful beyond words, my love.”
She smiled, and replied with perfect truth, “So do you.”
He looked confused. But only for a second. Then the vicar began the service.
It was not a long one. Once they’d exchanged vows and the vicar pronounced them man and wife, Harlow took her arm to lead her out of the church. She let him guide her down the aisle, hugging her surprise to her breast. She simply couldn’t wait to share her news with him—but it had to be done the right way.
Harlow couldn’t understand the ripple of excitement and shared joy on the faces around them. Everyone was whispering and pointing.
Yes, Caitlin was beautiful. In fact he could hardly wait to take her home, strip her of her gown, and make love to her until morning. Yes, they were married, but the excited prattle, giggles, and tears flowing from everyone who packed the church were extravagant, even for a wedding. What the hell was going on?
They stepped into the sunlight.
His mother grabbed him and hugged him as though she’d never let him go, her tears flowing freely. Henry and Marcus grinned like two simpletons out of the madhouse. Jeremy was finally smiling, the haunted look of guilt now erased from features that were growing more like Caitlin’s every day.
Then he looked at his bride. She stood at his side, her hand raised to shield her eyes from the sun. From-the-sun-?
“I always did love you in your red waistcoat,” she said, her eyes bright with love and laughter. “Scarlet for wickedness—and I love it when you are wicked… with me.”
A lump stuck in his throat as he fought the joy from erupting. Caitlin could see? He felt as though he’d been kicked in the chest. She could see. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. Caitlin took his hand in hers and squeezed it while nodding her head.
He drew in a deep breath. “How?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Just before I came to the church I tripped in my room and hit my head on the bedpost. When I woke up, I could see.”
Ignoring the now cheering crowd around them he pulled her into his arms and hugged her fiercely. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”
He led her towards the carriage and he helped her climb in. The cheers were deafening as they moved off toward Telford Court.
They all gathered in her bedchamber: Harlow, Lydia, Marcus, Henry, Jeremy, and Doctor Spencer. Harlow had insisted the doctor examine her before they joined the guests at their wedding breakfast.
Doctor Spencer could find nothing wrong with her sight. He didn’t know how to answer her questions, especially her main concern; would she lose her sight again?
“I can’t say for certain,” he said. “But there have been documented cases like this before—when a person who lost their sight from a knock on the head has had their vision restored by another such injury. No one understands why. And their sight remained perfect for the rest of their lives.”
“Well, I’m bloody going to make sure you don’t have another knock on your head ever again,” Harlow declared, vehemently.
Caitlin simply smiled at him. “You can’t protect me from my own clumsiness.”
She did not care about the future. Right now her life was perfect—she could see him. She couldn’t stop staring at him, drinking in every little detail.
He looked more handsome than she remembered, although he’d lost weight. The bones of his face were more pronounced, his features more chiseled. The lashes ringing his grey eyes seemed much longer and darker than they had been. The heat and love pouring from them as they gazed at her took her breath away. His full lips drew her in. She hoped no one could read her thoughts because she was picturing exactly where she’d like those lips to be right this minute.
Her face heated.
It heated even more when he caught her stare. The smile he aimed at her indicated he knew precisely what she was thinking, and that he’d be more than happy to fulfill her fantasy.
Beside her, Lydia cleared her throat. “Yes. Well. We should leave you two alone for a moment before you come down to greet your guests.” She shepherde
d the others from the room, but before she closed the door she turned back. And winked. “Please try to remember you have guests. Half an hour. That’s all.” And on that parting shot she closed the door behind her.
They were finally alone.
“Caitlin,” Harlow said in a voice that was equal parts warning and humor. “If you keep looking at me like that you won’t be leaving this room for a week.”
Was that meant to make her behave? “I have several months of staring to make up for. Besides, if you weren’t so gorgeous I’d have already stopped.”
His cheekbone tinged with red.
She laughed. “Harlow. You’re blushing.”
In answer he scooped her up and carried her to the bed. “We only have half an hour, an hour at most. I want you out of this dress.” He laid her on her stomach and began to undo the tiny buttons that ran down the back of her dress. After a lot of fumbling and cursing she heard a tear.
She laughed, and rolled over onto her back. His burning gaze sent heat pooling between her thighs, but she stilled his hurrying hands. “I want to watch you undress. Slowly.” She looked up at him through her eyelashes. “Please. I haven’t seen you for months.”
His gaze softened, the burning desire there dimmed, and he began to remove his clothes. But not particularly slowly. “‘Slow’ is a word I’ll only use when I make love to you.”
She lay back in her shift and stockings and devoured him with hungry eyes. When he stood naked beside the bed, she rose onto her hands and knees and crawled to the edge of the bed to press kisses all over his chest. Then she pulled herself up, wound her arms around his neck, and kissed him full on the mouth.
When she’d finished devouring his mouth, she pulled back and said, “I see all of you, Harlow.” She felt his manhood pulse against her stomach, and he gave a growl. “I hear you, Your Grace.” Her hand slid down to stroke him and his breath hissed from between his clenched teeth. “I feel you, husband.” She ran her nose over his skin. “I have always been able to scent you, my love.” Then—feeling wicked—she lowered her head. “And I will die if I don’t taste you.” And she took him into her mouth.
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