He whispered the words into the top of her head, kissing her hair as he spoke.
“I do not understand.”
He took her face in his hands.
“I love you, Katherine Brampton. I must have loved you from the moment I saw you skipping stones that glorious September morning.”
At last he kissed her full on the mouth. Katherine wrapped her arms around his neck, not certain she could ever bear to let go. He kissed her eyelids, an exquisitely sensitive place on her neck, her ear.
She ran her finger lightly over the scar running along his jaw, thinking how close a Frenchman’s sword had come to depriving her of this moment. She
shuddered,
realizing he might have died on some sun baked Spanish plain.
Lord Dracott drew back, a question in his gaze.
“It is so wonderful that you were spared…to come home…to love me. You must never concern yourself for fear I am jealous of your love for Lady Angela. I do understand that she was your first love and never can be entirely replaced.”
The bleak look that Katherine had seen fleetingly at other times returned to Lord
Dracott’s
face, as did the years he had seemingly shed. Katherine’s heart contracted, but before she could apologize for inflicting such pain on him, he took her hand and strode purposefully toward some destination unclear to her.
“The matter of Lady Angela needs to be settled between us without delay, and I do not think a lane where anyone might pass by is the place to discuss it.”
Katherine wondered how a discussion of Lady Angela required more privacy than what they had just been doing, but she concentrated on keeping up with Lord
Dracott’s
long strides. When he turned off on a barely
discernable
path leading to Dray Stream, she knew their destination.
A few blue blossoms of forget-me-nots had opened on Trinket’s grave. Symbols of hope she dared not dream of the day she had planted them. Lord Dracott had told her he loved her, she reminded herself, as he sat next to her on the fallen log and turned to her, grim faced. He did not so much as take her hand.
“It has never been my love for Angela that has kept me from telling you that I love you—or admitting it to myself.”
His voice was like the growl of a wounded animal. She reached for his hand and he took hers with the strength of a drowning man grasping the last lifeline.
“I did love her at first. I thought myself the luckiest man in England—perhaps in the world. The most beautiful lady—and she was my wife.”
His grip on her hand eased, but he did not let go.
“I do not know if it was love or pride, but I could deny her nothing. When, at last, it became clear she was playing me false, I refused to admit it to a soul. At least she was discrete and word of her infidelities never reached Dracott Hall. Both my parents died believing Angela was a devoted wife and mother. They believed I fled to Spain out of heartbreak. Disgust, not heartbreak, was what drove me.”
Katherine wondered which of her jumbled feelings: pity, anger—and yes, relief—might be showing on her face. But Lord Dracott seemed too immersed in his story to notice.
“Lizzie is my child. The infant buried in St. John Chrysostom’s is not. I promised myself, swore by all that is holy, never again to play the fool for a beautiful woman. Never again would I give my heart.”
He raised her hand to his lips.
“Then, on the morning I came home, back on Dracott land—
my
land—full of the hope of starting fresh—there you were—a beauty who would forever put Angela’s beauty in the shade. I acted without thinking. I gave you my heart that day, and try as I might, I could not retrieve it.”
He put his arm around her and kissed the corner of her eye.
“The evening Miguel appeared, translating your words to him made me want to howl. You were saying words to
him
that I wanted you to say to
me
. What I was translating for Miguel, I really longed to say to
you
.
“ ‘
Te
quiero
mas
que
nada.’
I love you more than anything in the world.
‘
Siempre
te
cuidare
.
Siempre
podras
vivir
conmigo
.’
I will take care of you always. You will have a home with me always.
‘
Siempre
.’
”
He smiled and drew a line down her cheek and across her lips.
“It would have helped considerably if you had declared yourself to have been compromised the morning of our encounter by the lake. I could have married you, telling myself I was obliged to do so, avoiding all the messiness of facing my old demons.”
He stood, pulled her up, and framed her face with his hands.
“But you, my darling, are incapable of duplicity. It will take some getting used to—being married to a most beautiful lady, knowing I can trust her.”
“Perhaps knowing I love you will make trusting me easier.”
Katherine laughed at the shock on Lord
Dracott’s
face before she kissed him.
“Whatever did I do to win your heart?”
His voice was husky in her ear.
“You removed innumerable burrs from a suffering spaniel’s coat—with great gentleness and patience. A gentleman who will do that might speak thoughtlessly in anger, but a lady can trust him with her heart. You have my heart always.
Siempre
.”
“
Siempre
, my darling
Catarina
.”