by Laura Landon
Blake sat, knowing if he didn’t he would surely fall to the floor even though all he wanted was to leave. He wanted to be as far away from here as he could get, but his legs didn’t want to hold him. He just needed to rest for a moment. His wound wasn’t mortal, but it was severe enough that he’d lost much of his strength. He’d lost enough blood to make him lightheaded.
He listened. Liam had come with him, and Blake knew he’d come into the room as soon as he heard the gunshot. A moment later, Liam rushed into the room and came to his side.
“How bad is it?” he asked, ripping his cravat from around his neck and pressing it to Blake’s shoulder.
Blake shook his head. “I’ve had worse. Get me out of here.”
“No,” Willow cried. “You need a doctor.”
Blake lowered his head and saw the tears streaming down her face. “I’ll be fine.”
“No, you need help. You need a doctor.”
“I need to go home.”
“Then, I’m coming with you.”
Blake squeezed his eyes shut as a wave of pain sliced through him. But the pain didn’t only come from his wound. The words he was about to say would be more painful than the bullet in his shoulder. The words he had to say would rip his heart from his chest and cause Willow more pain than he ever thought he could cause her.
For as much as he despised everything the Duke of Somerset said and did, one statement he’d said was true. Blake had no right to ask Willow to marry him. He had no right to expect her to give up the life she’d been born to live and become the wife of a common tradesman. No right to expect her to become Mrs. Blake Edison, bastard son of the Duke of Somerset. She could marry the Marquess of Kendrick and become the future Duchess of Somerset. How could he expect her to turn her back on everything she’d known and be happy working at his side in a warehouse?
He couldn’t. And he’d been an abominable cad to tempt her like he had.
Blake placed his hand on Willow’s cheek. “You can’t come with me. There’s no place for you in my world.”
“No, Blake! You can’t mean that!”
Blake broke out of Willow’s grasp and staggered to his feet.
“No, Blake! Don’t leave me. I love you! I love you!”
Blake couldn’t look at her. He couldn’t bear to see the tears he knew were streaming down her face. He couldn’t bear to look at the pain and heartache she felt. He hurt a thousand times more.
Blake dropped his arm across Liam’s shoulders and turned to leave. But first he reached into his jacket and took out two folded pieces of paper and handed them to Willow’s father.
“What are these?”
Blake didn’t answer.
Without looking back, he walked to the door with Liam’s help. Before they exited the room, the Marquess of Kendrick raced back inside. He stopped in front of Blake and shook his head. “I don’t know what to say. I didn’t know.”
Blake didn’t doubt Kendrick. The man who’d sired Blake refused to acknowledge Blake even to himself. Why did Blake think he’d acknowledge him to his son?
“Let’s go,” he said to Liam.
They walked out of the room, down the hall, and across the foyer.
The butler was waiting at the entrance. He opened the door when they neared and stepped back to let them exit.
Blake stepped out into the sunshine, then stopped short when a gunshot echoed from inside the house.
“Bloody hell,” Liam said. “Do you think—”
“Take me home, Liam.”
And Liam did.
Chapter 19
It had been one month since that fateful day that they’d met with the Duke of Somerset. Almost a month since they’d buried the duke in a small, private ceremony on the Somerset family estate. One month since Blake had walked out of her life. And she didn’t know if she could survive one more day, let alone one more month. She’d never hurt so badly in her life.
“You have to eat something, Willow,” her mother said, sitting across from her at the breakfast table. “Starving yourself isn’t doing you any good. If you get any thinner you won’t have any clothes to wear.”
“I’m fine, Mother,” Willow argued.
“No, you’re not,” Willow’s father said, laying down the newspaper he’d been reading. The tone of his voice hinted of anger, but the expression on his face showed the worry both he and Willow’s mother were experiencing. “You’ve lamented that Blake Edison rejected you long enough. It’s time you got on with your life.”
“He didn’t reject me. He walked away from me because he thought that was best for me.”
“Then I have to give him credit for his good sense.”
“No, Father. That wasn’t good sense. He listened to all the things the Duke of Somerset said about him and he believed them. He thought that in time I would hate him for taking me away from the world I’d grown up in.”
“And you would,” her father said without a second’s hesitation.
“I would not! I don’t belong in that world. I never have. I belong in Blake’s world. Where I can do the work I love. Where I can walk every day through aisle after aisle of colored fabrics and fine cloth. Where I can set my mind to the challenges of a new business the likes of which the world has never seen.”
Willow’s father looked at her as if she’d lost her mind while Willow’s mother’s expression told her she understood. Tears streamed down her mother’s cheeks as if she hurt as much as Willow did.
“At least you are spared having to wed the Marquess—or rather, the Duke of Somerset. Everyone will understand that because of his father’s death, and his ascension to the title, he intends to postpone any plans you made earlier.” Her father let his gaze rest on her. “Have you spoken to His Grace?”
“Yes, Father. We spoke following his father’s funeral service.”
“What did you decide?”
“We decided to postpone indefinitely any plans to marry. I don’t love him and he doesn’t love me. Now that you have the deeds to the estates to give to Joe and Phin, there’s no need to marry.”
Willow cast a loving eye toward her father. He’d refused the two deeds once he understood the circumstances. Blake had tried to insist, and their stalemate finally resulted in a long-term very amicable agreement for Willow’s father and brothers to purchase the estates. Meanwhile her brothers would occupy them and begin the process of recovering them from the late duke’s mishandling.
She couldn’t be more proud of her father.
“What about your dowry? Kendrick still needs the money that will come from your dowry.”
“Yes, he does. But Blake Edison is his only creditor now that he’s bought up all of the late duke’s obligations. And Blake has given him more than satisfactory terms so that he’ll be able to pay them off entirely in time.”
Willow took great pleasure in her father’s slightly raised eyebrow. Once again Blake had managed to surprise and impress him.
“So, you don’t intend to marry him?”
“No, Father,” she answered.
“What are your plans, then?”
“I intend to give Blake enough time to realize that by leaving me he made the biggest mistake of his life.”
“And if he doesn’t realize that?”
“Then I will have to convince him of his mistake.”
“And if I don’t give my permission for you to marry him?”
Willow looked at her father and could not manage to erase her frown. “Then you will have made the biggest mistake of your life.”
Her father sighed a heavy sigh, then folded his paper and rose from his chair. “Talk to your mother, Willow. Heed her advice. She’ll tell you what is best for you to do.”
“Are you sure, dear?” Willow’s mother asked with a sigh of relief.
“Yes, dear. You’ll tell her what is best. Your advice may not be what I think is best, but the advice you give our daughter will be for her best.” He paused and put a tender hand on Lady Wyndfield
’s shoulder. “It always has.”
With that, her father left the room. When Willow looked at her mother, she saw tears of love in her eyes. That was the kind of love Willow wanted to feel for the man she married. And Blake was the only man who could ever draw from her that manner of love.
“We’re both the luckiest women on earth, Willow. I because I have been able to spend my life with the most wonderful man on earth. And you because you have been blessed to have that man for your father.”
Her mother paused to reach for her hand. “Is your Mr. Edison such a man?”
Willow looked at her mother through tear-filled eyes. “Oh, yes, Mama. He is as wonderful as Papa.”
“Then my advice is to go to him and tell him that you love him and that you refuse to let him go.”
Willow rose from her chair and wrapped her arms around her mother. “Oh, thank you, Mama. I love you.”
“And I love you. All your father and I want for you is to be as happy as we’ve been.”
“I will be. I love Blake so much. I can’t imagine living my life without him.”
“Then you’d better tell him that.”
“I shall,” Willow said rushing from the room. “I shall.”
. . . .
Willow walked through the warehouse door and let her eyes take in her surroundings. Her heart swelled in her breast. She was home. She didn’t know how to explain how she felt other than she was finally where she wanted to be. Where she belonged.
She listened to the familiar sounds of the warehouse at work: the workmen moving heavy bolts of fabric within reach of the women cutting out the pattern pieces. The sound of sewing machines clanking in a far-off room. The lively chatter of women visiting while they did the finishing hand work. Liam’s deep voice as he issued orders to the workers.
Everything was exactly as she remembered it. It was everything she missed.
She let her gaze travel down the aisles of fabric on the main floor, then tilted her head to take in the fabric on the second level. And there he was.
Blake stood at the railing on the second level with a paper and pen in his hand as if making notes. He hadn’t seen her yet, but she knew it wouldn’t be long before he realized she was there. They affected each other that way, somehow sensing when the other was near.
Willow watched him write something, then stop. He turned to look over the balcony and his gaze caught hers.
He stood where he was for several long moments without moving. Willow’s heart pounded as she took in the enthralling figure of a man who seemed frozen in place. He was tall, with broad shoulders and narrow hips. He stood with his muscular legs braced wide as if he were a fearless warrior surveying his kingdom.
His features that had been so horridly bruised were now restored to their bold, angled perfection. Willow knew she’d made the right decision in coming here.
She also knew she’d have to make the first move to show Blake that she intended to stay.
She removed her bonnet and her gloves and placed them on the nearest bolt of fabric, then slowly walked to the stairs that would take her to him. Step by step she climbed upward. When she reached the top, she slowly walked toward him, not because she was unsure of her footing, but because they seemed the most important steps of her life. He watched her every move without coming near her.
“Hello, Blake,” she said when she was close to him.
“What are you doing here, Willow?”
His voice contained a wariness that told Willow that he was preparing to do battle. She refused to allow any conflict between them. “Are you completely healed?”
“I asked what you are doing here.”
“I heard you, but I have no intention of answering you.”
Willow looked over the balcony and surveyed the aisles of fabric below. “Would you mind showing me around? I’d like to see the changes you’ve made since I was here last.”
“Go home, Willow.”
“I am home, Blake. This is exactly where I should be.”
“No, Willow. This isn’t where you belong.”
Willow took one step after another until she was nearly in Blake’s arms. “Yes, it is. Now…” she hooked her arm through his. “Please, show me the changes you’ve made.”
He stepped out of her grasp. “Why are you doing this, Willow? Don’t you know how hard it was for me to walk away from you a month ago? I don’t want to have to go through that again.”
“Good. Because I have no intention of going through something so painful ever again.”
“Oh, Willow.” Blake moaned her name and Willow heard the pain in his voice.
“Listen to me, Blake. And you listen closely. I love you. I don’t care that you are not the Duke of Somerset’s legitimate son. I don’t care that you don’t hold a title. Or that you don’t live in Mayfair, or belong to the right clubs. I don’t care if I never step foot in another Society ballroom, or attend another musicale, or have to suffer through another afternoon tea. All I care about is that I can spend every day and night by your side and in your arms.”
“You might mean that now, but—”
“Don’t you dare tell me that I’ll regret the love we have for each other, or the life we will have, or the children we’ll have, or the days we can spend doing what we love most. Don’t you dare! I’m not some naïve schoolgirl who doesn’t know her own mind. I know exactly what I want, and I want you! The question is, do you want me as badly? Do you love me as much as I love you? Or was the Duke of Somerset right? Were you only using me to hurt him?”
“No,” Blake said, pulling her into his arms. “You know I love you. I love you more than anything in the world. I’ve suffered a thousand deaths every day for the last month. You don’t know how often I wanted to go after you and bring you home with me.”
“Then show me. Please, show me how much you love me.” Willow pulled Blake into the shadows and stood on her tiptoes with her arms wrapped around his neck. The moment his lips touched hers she melted in his arms.
Blake opened his mouth over hers and kissed her with all the passion she demanded. His tongue entered her mouth and sought its mate. He searched, then found what he was looking for.
The moment their tongues touched, an explosion of fireworks erupted behind Willow’s eyelids. It was a wondrous new sensation.
Their breathing became gasps of ragged breaths that fought to fill their lungs. And when she thought she couldn’t take any more, Blake deepened his kisses and took their passion to mesmerizing new heights.
Walls disappeared and it seemed there was no need for a floor beneath her as Willow soared past stars that glimmered with unimaginable brightness. She thought she’d experienced everything Blake could teach her—that he’d shown her the limits that it was possible for her emotions to climb. But the deeper he kissed her, the lighter she felt, the farther she ascended, the less control she had over her emotions. She’d never known anything as powerful as this. Never thought it was possible to feel such desire.
Soft sighs filled the space around her and she knew Blake had drawn the sighs from her with his kisses. With his hands that traveled over her body in ways that felt blessedly right.
Her knees gave out from beneath her and her arms became weak as a newborn babe’s. If it had not been for Blake’s strength, she would have crumpled to the ground in a pool of warm smiles.
“Willow,” he said, breaking their kiss and pulling her into his arms. “Willow?”
“Yes?”
“We have to marry,” he gasped through his ragged breathing. “Soon. Or you’ll be a ruined woman.”
“Yes,” she answered. “Soon.” Willow took another gasping breath. “Today.”
Blake’s chest shifted beneath where Willow rested her cheek and his laughter echoed in her head. “I don’t think I can arrange our marriage license today, but it will be soon.”
Willow lifted her chin until her eyes locked with Blake’s. “Then I will settle for walking down the aisle a ruined woman.�
�
Blake laughed again, then lowered his head and kissed her.
Epilogue
Willow sat behind her desk in Blake’s office as she worked on a new design. The door opened and Blake entered the room.
“Shouldn’t you be resting?” He came to her and rubbed her shoulders and her back.
“I’m fine,” she said, tipping her head back to receive his kiss. “Do you know what today is?”
“Thursday?”
“No, silly. It’s our nine-month anniversary.”
Blake’s face opened to a wide grin. “So it is,” he said, kissing her a second time. “And our baby had the good manners not to make an appearance earlier than her allotted time. Now Society has nothing about which to gossip.”
“Yes,” she sighed. Appearance no longer held the importance it once had, but Willow was awfully glad that where their firstborn was concerned it would appear they had done things well and properly, all according to Hoyle.
“Oh, Willow,” he said, kissing her forehead. “I told you I wouldn’t care if our daughter came the day after we married.”
“And I told you that our son wouldn’t be so unmannered as to arrive early and embarrass his mother. As well as his grandmother and grandfather.”
“You’re still sure the babe you’re carrying is a boy?”
“Oh, yes, Blake. There’s no doubt.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“From the way he constantly kicks his mother. No daughter of mine would be so unladylike.”
Blake laughed, then pulled her to her feet. He led her to his former bedroom, now their bedroom. She and Blake had spent many a night in that bed when they’d worked late. Or when they wanted to make love and simply couldn’t wait until they arrived at the palatial home he’d built for her. The bed in Blake’s back room was too handy. And, it was undoubtedly the bed where their son had been conceived.
Today, Blake didn’t lead her to the bed, though. Instead, he took her to the large wing chair beneath the window she loved and pulled her onto his lap. Willow snuggled against him as much as her size would allow.
