Wicked Deeds on a Winter Night

It had taken a few hours for her to realize that he'd left his family and possibly Lady Beatrice to come and find her. Why? To apologize? To offer an explanation, to provide money…or to soothe a conscience ravaged by guilt? Then her heart had started to wonder truly why he had come to Durham.

She’d woken up the next morning with a resolve burning in her he

art to know why. Cousin Jane had sent her a look of such pity, Primrose had burst into fresh tears. But then she’d snapped her back straight and decided to make her way home…no, to the cottage, and finally confront him.

Maybe then, the wound she’d never thought her heart capable of enduring would heal. For she had her child to live for, and she needed to be whole for that. She couldn’t allow herself to waste away as her mother had done upon losing her father. But Primrose now had an inkling of the pain which had driven her mother to such a state. So she needed to look him in his beautiful eyes, and understand why, so she could heal.

Except the cottage appeared devoid of living. So, he hadn’t left his family home nor Lady Beatrice. Well, she’d call on him in the morn at Sancrest Manor. Exhaustion sat heavy on her shoulders, releasing its full weight now that rest was in sight. She made her way to the bedroom, lowered herself on the bed and tugged her half boots from her aching feet. She untied the laces of her winter coat, letting it fall carelessly to the floor, and then crawled into the bed.

She must have drifted off, for suddenly she was awake, and there was a fire roaring in the hearth, a chair by her bedside, and in that chair, sat Gabriel, his eyes steady on hers. Primrose turned to her side, placing one hand beneath her cheek, and the other she rested lightly on her stomach. She wanted to speak and could not. Her tongue felt heavy, her throat tight, her eyes achy, and her heart…Dear God, her heart, how it beat a furious rhythm.

He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his muscular thighs. Yet he did not speak. And Primrose remained silent.

Finally, he said, "Are you real, my Primrose."

Her lips parted. “As real as you are.”

Her breath hitched at the many emotions darkening his eyes.

“I’m going to tan your backside for running from our home.”

That was the last thing she’d expected him to say. “So you’re not married then.”

He went remarkably still. “Do you have such little faith in the promises I’ve made you.”

His voice was rough with pain and hollowed with disappointment.

Hot tears spilled on her cheeks, and she pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle the sobs wanting to rip from her.

He reached out, and gentle fingers touched her jaw, bringing her gaze to meet his as he swept a lock of hair behind her ear. “Every day I wrote you. Every day I searched for you. Every day I missed you. And I unashamedly cried for you.”

She burst into loud, ugly tears. The last few weeks had been excruciating. “For so long I thought if I lost you, I would be strong and unflinching. I would not be weak like my mother who allowed grief to take her to the grave. I broke,” she whispered. “I hurt until I became a shadow of myself. I hungered for your smiles and touches, and just the comfort of you being near.”

Primrose rested a hand on the curve of her belly. “Then I became strong again because I needed to see your eyes and know without a doubt you no longer love me.” Her voice cracked as emotions tightened her throat. She stared at him helplessly, the hot embers of hope burning through her body. “But I can see…I can see the same love in my heart reflected back at me.”

His eyes closed briefly then snapped open. How they burned with unfathomable emotions.

"I faltered because there was a part of me, deep inside, that believed that maybe a lady with better connections and wealth would suit you better. Forgive me, Gabriel. You fell ill, and I did not have the means or connections to save you. I felt so inadequate for you, my love. And it gutted me to know the family you love so much will never accept—"

“My family can go hang,” he said gruffly. “You are my family. And together we will weather all odds. It was your will and determination that got me help. It was your love that had you coming back, day after day, ignoring your pride, just to see me.”

He stood and stalked from the bedroom. With a gasp, she scrambled from the bed and rushed after him, only to falter when he returned inside with a harried, portly looking man. Her eyes widened, and she frowned in confusion.

“This is my cousin, Pernell Walters. He’s a vicar. I’ve dragged him around for several days, and he is sore impatient with me.”

“I—”

“Marry me. Today…now.” Then he withdrew the special license from his jacket. “Marry me, my sweet.”

Joy, relief, and love so powerful it left her weak seized her, stealing her ability to breathe. "I doubted you," she said in a hoarse cry.

"Yes," he said drolly. "And because of it, we spent miserable weeks apart. You will not escape my spanking, but I promise to kiss it better."

The vicar made a garbled sound of shock, and Primrose laughed waterily.

“I’ll never doubt you again,” she whispered fiercely. “I love you so.”

His lips slid over hers, the familiar taste of him a sweet comfort and flaming pleasure. “And I love you. Marry me.”