The green eyes flared and his lips curved in an exultant smile. “You have such pride.”
“So do you.”
“I should have damn well realized that I loved you when the thought of you drowning made me want to die too.” His eyes darkened. “Pen, I’ve hurt you for so long. I had no idea. How can you forgive me?”
She returned his smile with a joy that washed away regret and bitterness. “Say you love me again.”
“I love you.” He still pronounced the words as if they scalded. Staring at her like the most precious jewel in the world, he cradled her face between his palms.
“You don’t sound very certain,” she said shakily, at last sure enough to tease.
His smile widened until his face blazed with brilliance. “I love you, Penelope Rothermere.”
“That’s better.”
It was. The declaration resounded like a fanfare.
“You love me.” He sounded like that was a miracle. “You love me. And I love you.”
Pen was so happy, she felt like she’d swallowed the sun. She was so happy that she couldn’t stop crying. They’d come so near to losing one another.
With a wordless groan, he dragged her into his arms. She felt more a part of him at that moment than in all their nights of unfettered passion.
“So we get a happy ending after all,” she whispered just above where his heart thundered. The heart that he’d finally unlocked and presented to her. She’d never take that for granted. Never.
His embrace tightened almost to pain. “I’ll always love you, my darling.”
Curse these tears. She couldn’t stop weeping all over him. “You’ve got some catching up to do.”
“Give me the next fifty years to adore yo
u and we’ll be equal. You know how I hate to lose a contest.”
“I look forward to that.”
“So do I,” he said fervently. “Now let me take you back to the Bear and Swan where I’ll prove my devotion.”
“That will make an excellent start,” she said huskily.
They’d journeyed their whole lives to reach this point. They’d been through the storm. Now they found safe harbor.
After the years of wandering, Penelope finally came home.
Epilogue
Fentonwyck, Derbyshire, December 1828
Pen stirred from a doze to find Cam sitting on her bed in the shadowy room. He gently stroked the hair back from her face and smiled when she opened her eyes. A smile so full of love that she curled her toes under the blanket. Even now, months after the revelations in that squalid Liverpool attic, she marveled that her dreams had come true.
“Good afternoon,” she said drowsily, smiling back.
“Good afternoon to you.” He kissed her with a sweet thoroughness that set her toes curling again. “How are you feeling?”
“Like a grumpy elephant.” She let him help her up against the pillows. “Your son stays awake all night and he expects me to keep him company.”
Cam laughed softly. “My daughter is troublesome just like her mother.”
The friendly argument over whether their baby was a boy or girl had continued for months. In Liverpool when Pen had said that she might carry his child, she’d spoken true. Soon after they’d returned to London, morning sickness had set in. Then for a few blissful months, she’d felt marvelous. But in the last weeks, she’d just been uncomfortable and exhausted.