“More than all right.”
This was the first chance she’d had to see him properly since her candle had flickered out, all those tumultuous hours ago. He looked younger. And happy. And free from the burden of what she now recognized as unsatisfied desire. She only noted the signs of his tension by their absence. A tightness around his eyes and jaw. A rigid straightness of the shoulders. A certain care with how he moved.
Now Joss looked like a man at ease in his world in a way he hadn’t since his arrival. How glad Maggie was to know that he’d found joy in her arms.
She pushed the blankets aside and slid over to make room for him. One thing she’d promised herself before she closed her eyes—she wasn’t going to spoil current happiness with fretting about future misery. “Come back to bed.”
“That’s a tempting invitation.”
“I hope so.”
He strode forward and set her shawl on the bed beside her and her slippers on the floor. Her heart had leaped so high at the sight of him that she hadn’t noticed what he carried.
“First, I’d like you to come downstairs. I’ve got something to say, and my bedroom isn’t the right venue.”
She frowned, although she sat up and swung her feet to the ground, grateful that she was respectably covered. Before falling asleep, she’d tugged her nightdress over her nakedness. Without Joss’s incendiary presence, she’d felt awkward, lying in his bed without a stitch to cover her.
“You’re being very mysterious.”
If she hadn’t seen his happiness, if he hadn’t told her she was a miracle, she might fear that he meant to say their liaison couldn’t continue. But when he’d opened his arms to her, he also opened the doors of his soul. Now he was being tantalizingly enigmatic, but she didn’t sense any withdrawal from their essential closeness.
“Aren’t I just?” He dropped to his knees in front of her. She smiled to see the tangled mess of thick black curls, as he bent his head to his task. Her Joss would never be a neat, conventional man. “Let me help you with your slippers. I’d hate your feet to get cold.”
All impulse to laughter evaporated. Maggie gulped back the emotion that surged to jam her throat. Nobody had looked after her in years. Yet Joss had cared for her from the first. Odd to think back to how angry she’d been when he’d carried her down to the kitchens that first night.
“I can manage.”
“Let me.” He slid her slippers onto her feet.
“You’re smiling.” She reached out to touch the groove of amusement creasing his cheek.
The fondness in his smile reassured her further. He’d asked her to trust him. It was too late to start building defensive walls.
“I was thinking if you only knew how frequently white flannel has featured in my fantasies since we met.”
A low laugh escaped her. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to you in silk and satin.”
“I’m not. I’m just glad you came to me at all. You make me so happy, Maggie.”
“And you make me happy, Joss,” she whispered. At that moment it was true. What ensued in the coming weeks, months, years had no power to destroy her pleasure in his presence.
With a gentleness that made tears prick her eyes—dear heaven, she threatened to become a watering pot—he lifted one foot and placed a kiss on her instep. The sensation of his lips on her skin made the deepest parts of her body heat and soften.
Joss raised his head and smiled again. She’d always loved his smile. She loved the way it added flashing charm to his rugged features.
When they’d first met, she’d thought him appealing, if not exactly handsome. Tonight, after nearly a week in his company, she thought him the most attractive man she’d ever met. She wouldn’t trade an inch of that rugged, quirky, interesting face for the greatest beau in the kingdom.
“Don’t look at me like that, or I’ll forget good intentions.”
She smiled back. “I like it when you forget good intentions.”
His grip on her foot tightened. “So do I.”
To her regret, he replaced her foot on the floor and rose. He lifted the candelabra and stretched out his hand. “Come with me.”
Wrapping her shawl around her shoulders, she stood. “Won’t you tell me what this is about?”
“Don’t you like surprises?”
She curled her fingers around his. “I do, if they’re nice surprises.”
“I think this will count as a nice surprise.”
Curiosity ate at her, as they left his room and followed the corridor to the staircase. After the storms, it seemed deathly quiet. The candlelight flickered against the high walls, picking out a distant building in a landscape painting or the gleam of a painted eye in a portrait.
Maggie shivered. She wasn’t particularly superstitious, but she felt like a thousand ghosts gathered to watch their progress. Away from the fire, the house was freezing, and she moved closer to Joss. His big body radiated heat like a great furnace. “I hope we’re not going far.”
“Now that’s interesting.” His grip on her hand firmed. “I’m hoping we’ll go very far indeed.”
She frowned. Was he talking about her sensual education? Or something more permanent? He’d said he never wanted to part from her. Did he mean to ask her to return to London as his mistress? But surely he must know that was a step too far, even for a woman who tonight had cast her bonnet over a windmill.
Before Maggie summoned the nerve to ask what he meant, they stopped outside the drawing room. Joss released her to place his hand on the door and look down at her with an unreadable expression. “Do you know it’s Christmas Eve?”
Puzzled she met his gaze. “I suppose so.”
It must be well after midnight, so of course it was Christmas Eve. As if to confirm the fact, the long clock in the hall chimed three.
“Christmas Eve is a magical time. A time when wishes come true.”
“I’ve never heard that,” she said skeptically, used by now to the charming nonsense he spouted about Christmas. Although he could be right about the magic, because this was the first Christmas since her mother died when she’d felt any joy in the season. All because of Joss.
“Yes, you have. Don’t children go to bed on Christmas Eve, dreaming of presents and all the fun and games to come the next day?”
It was a long time since she’d had such a Christmas Eve. “I’m not a child anymore.”
“Everyone’s a child at Christmas.” He leaned in to kiss her briefly, setting off a cascade of pleasure. Would she ever take these spontaneous expressions of affection for granted? “Come with me.”
He pushed the door open to a blaze of light. Maggie halted on the threshold, lost in wonder.
Joss must have unearthed every candle in the house. Flickering lights ranged across the mantel above the fire blazing in the hearth. Branches of candles covered every table. Combined with the Christmas greenery they’d had such a lovely time putting up, the effect was like a bower in an enchanted forest.
He stepped inside the room, and she followed in a daze of love and gratitude. Her shawl slipped to the ground, but the room was so cozy, it hardly mattered.
“Joss, this is lovely,” she said, touched that he’d taken this trouble for her.
He strode into the center of the floor, where he’d arranged a circle of fat beeswax candles, all burning bravely against the dark winter night. “Aren’t you glad we got the house ready for Christmas?”
Before his arrival, how lonely and closed away she’d been. Christmas had meant nothing to her. But right now, her heart was so full of love and gratitude, she felt like that dismal girl was another person entirely.
She blinked away more tears and spread her hands, hoping he’d understand how profoundly he’d changed her. “You’ve brought the house alive.” She licked her lips and spoke the stark truth. “You’ve brought me alive.”
His smile radiated such warmth, she felt she stepped into summer. “And you’ve brought me alive.”
She
was coming to terms with such a marvelous confession, when he went down on one knee and held his hand out toward her. “Margaret Carr, my darling Maggie, will you marry me?”
Chapter 12
Joss waited for Maggie to rush into his arms, to say an ecstatic yes, to kiss him. Perhaps even tell him she loved him.
Because he was certain she must.
He wasn’t an idiot. Only love made a woman like Maggie Carr give herself to a man. And while she might have kept the words back, her love had illuminated every second of these last incandescent hours.
But to his astonishment, instead of running toward him, she faltered back. An expression that looked like anguish tightened her features, and all the lovely rosy softness vanished in a blink.
“Maggie?” he asked uncertainly, staggering to his feet.
He suddenly felt like a fool. Was he wrong about her feelings? Had his arrogance alone convinced him that she cared?
The thought that she didn’t love him after all crashed down like a landslide, and for a long moment, he couldn’t breathe. Joss wasn’t a man who prayed much, but faced with her closed expression, he found himself praying that he misunderstood her reaction.
She avoided his eyes and folded her arms across her lovely bosom in an obviously protective gesture. What in Hades did she need to protect herself from? Surely not him. Good God, he was ready to pledge his life to cherishing her.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said urgently.
The ragged demand made him wince. An hour—ten minutes—ago, he’d have said they were so close, he knew everything in her head and heart.
Now she was a stranger.
She regarded him with the wariness he hadn’t seen since he’d arrived. He hated it. He’d believed she trusted him. Hell, she’d come to his bed. What greater statement of trust could she make?
Apart from promising him the rest of her life. And from what he could see, that asked far too much.
“I’m grateful for your offer,” she said in a flat voice.
“Grateful?” Baffled rage surged. What the devil was going on? “What blasted sort of namby-pamby response is that to a fellow’s proposal?”
She flinched from his tone. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Have to? What’s going on?” He frowned. “I want to marry you, by heaven.”
The familiar obstinacy settled on her features. He’d seen it during their first days together, when she’d battled to keep him at a distance.
Well, he’d demolished it before. He could demolish it again. But beneath his bravado lurked desolation.
It was so clear that they belonged together. Why in blazes couldn’t she see that, too?
“It’s not suitable.” She drew herself up, looking as proud as a queen. “I’m a servant.”
A servant? God give him strength. He couldn’t imagine a woman looking less like a servant. “Devil take you, of course it’s suitable,” he snapped.
“Stop shouting at me.”
Joss wasn’t exactly shouting, but he knew he was acting like a bear instead of a suitor. He struggled to moderate his tone. It was difficult when this meant so damned much—she meant so damned much—and she spouted such arrant nonsense.
“I’m sorry.” But not as sorry as he was that she hadn’t said yes, blast it.
“I don’t have to marry you,” she said with a hint of truculence.
Joss subjected her to narrow-eyed attention. “No, you don’t.” Although God help them, if he’d put a baby inside her, she bloody well did. “Forgive me if I mistook your feelings, but I hoped you might want to marry me.”
She continued to avoid his eyes. That suddenly struck him as a good sign. The first good sign since his impetuous proposal.
“We’ve only known each other a couple of days.” In a dance of distress, those slender hands twined and untwined at her waist. “We’re not far off strangers.”
“Piffle,” he spat out.
His uncompromising response had her raising surprised eyes to his. He stepped close enough to loom over her. His inconvenient size intimidated most men, but gallant Maggie Carr squared her shoulders and glared. If only she knew how that defiance made her his perfect bride in a way that transcended issues of status or fortune.
His heart crashed against his ribs as he recalled how perfectly they’d fitted together when he’d thrust inside her. She was a fool to deny that they were fated to be together.
He went on before she could muster another argument. “If we’re strangers, what the hell do you mean by giving yourself to me?”
The delicate jaw set firmer. “You’re still shouting.”
“No, I’m not.” But he paused to run his hand through his hair and suck in an impatient breath. And his voice was marginally quieter when he continued. “Maggie, don’t you want to marry me?”
Her lashes fluttered down, and for the first time, he saw the misery beneath her refusal. Hope stirred. Perhaps his case wasn’t as lost as he thought. Curse him for an impulsive idiot. He should have known he’d need more than a romantic setting to convince this superb woman to accept him.
But he’d been so sure of her. Too sure. He wouldn’t make that error again.
“It would be wrong.”
With a gentleness he should have enlisted from the first, he took her hand. She started without pulling away. Odd that after the many ways he’d touched her tonight, this simple, seemingly innocent contact should seem the most significant. “Come and sit beside me, sweet Maggie.”
She still refused to look at him, although her fingers twined around his with a desperation as revealing as her reluctance to admit she didn’t want him. “You’ll try to talk me around.”
Despite the fraught moment, he couldn’t contain a wry smile. “Of course.”
“And you think I won’t be able to resist you.”
“I hope,” he said, and meant it.
“Just because I slept with you, it doesn’t mean you’ll always get your way.”
He drew her across to a chaise longue and brought her down beside him. “Please make an honest man of me.”
“Don’t joke,” she said in a choked voice.
“I’m not.” He paused. “Or only a little. Please marry me, Maggie.”
Her hold tightened around his hand. “I can’t.” Her voice was so low, he had to lean forward to hear her.
“Yes, you can.”
At last she turned a stark azure gaze on him. “Then, I won’t.”
Despair crashed through him at the certainty in her voice. This made no sense. He could have sworn she’d found those moments in his arms as transcendent as he had. “Damn it, my darling, did I do something wrong?”
She frowned. “Of course not.”
It wasn’t enough. But it was something. “Then why won’t you have me?”
Maggie pulled away and stood to face him. He read her pride and her strength. And cursed the possibility that, despite all his advantages, he mightn’t prevail.
“You’re a man of principle, Joss.”
“I’d like to think so.” Although he hadn’t acted like an honorable man tonight.
“A man of principle doesn’t run around, deflowering virgins.”
“I did tonight,” he said uncomfortably.
“And now you’re offering to restore my reputation in the time-honored way.”
He must be bloody slow, because it took him a second to understand what she meant. “What the devil?” Genuinely angry, he surged to his feet. “Do you think I’m offering for you, purely for convention’s sake?”
As he should have expected, the rage of a six-foot-three brute who must outweigh her twofold didn’t send her into retreat. Instead she leveled an unimpressed stare upon him. “Aren’t you?”
His hands opened and closed at his sides, as he fought the urge to shake some sense into her. “No, I bloody am not. Didn’t you hear what I said? I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
A declaration of love rushed to hi
s lips. But her withering glance killed the words stone dead before he spoke them.
“You’re being kind,” she said stubbornly.
“I’m not kind,” he snarled.
To his surprise, a hint of a smile softened the austere line of her lips. “Of course you are, Joss. You’re the kindest person I’ve ever met.”
The compliment didn’t please him. Not when she was using it against him.
He spread his hands. “Maggie, don’t let your pride consign you to a lonely life.” He paused. “And you could be carrying my child. I wasn’t as careful as I might have been.” He’d been so drunk on pleasure, he hadn’t thought about trying to protect her from pregnancy until it was too late.
In an age-old gesture, her hand crept to cover her belly, and for a fleeting instant, she didn’t look like some warrior goddess condemning a mere mortal to eternal banishment. She looked like a young girl facing an uncertain future. “I mightn’t be.”
“Not good enough.” The glance he shot her was a match for any uncompromising attitude she could summon. “I will not have a child of mine born a bastard. You can put aside any noble thoughts of letting me escape the consequences of my acts.”
“I’m not being noble,” she said, and her voice cracked.
“Neither am I,” he said brusquely.
To his horror, tears glittered in her lovely eyes.
“Don’t cry, Maggie. For God’s sake, don’t cry.” He reached out, but let his hands drop back to his sides when he saw how distraught she looked. “Would it really be too horrible to marry me? I thought you liked me.”
Her lip trembled. “Of course I do.”
“Then why?” he asked in bewilderment. “Did I frighten you when we came together? I can be a careless brute, I know. But I promise to do better.”
Her tears spilled over and trickled down her pale cheeks. “You didn’t frighten me. You’re wonderful.”
“So wonderful you won’t have a bar of me.” The air he drew into his lungs tasted as bitter as vinegar. “Instead you want to stay here in this wilderness and forget you ever knew poor lovelorn Josiah Hale.”
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