All About Passion (Cynster 7)

“Would you really not have married me if you’d known who I was? Known that Francesca Rawlings was me?”

Gyles laughed. “I knew the instant I set eyes on you that you were the last woman I should marry if I wanted a meek, mild-mannered cipher as wife. And I was right.”

At her soft humph he smiled, but then sobered. “If Franni hadn’t been there, we wouldn’t be here now, married, in love, expecting our first child. My only regret is that my appearing at Rawlings Hall seems to have acted as a catalyst for her delusions.”

“If not you, then some other.” Francesca was silent for some time, then murmured, “Fate moves in mysterious ways.”

Gyles stroked her hair. “We won’t be able to visit Rawlings Hall. Franni will do better without seeing us again.”

“I feel for Charles and Ester. To have watched and waited all Franni’s life, only to have their worst dreams come true.”

“We can still help-make sure Charles can hire the best carers for Franni. And we can make sure Charles and Ester get away every now and then-we can invite them to Lambourn in summer.”

“We could make it an annual arrangement that they visit, so they don’t get shut away, and the family don’t lose track of them.”

Francesca wriggled in his arms so she could look into his face. The carriage had reached the City; courtesy of the streetlamps, more light was seeping past the flaps, enough to see. “I was thinking… Honoria told me about the gathering the Cynsters have at Somersham. I think we should do something similar at Lambourn, don’t you?”

Gyles looked into her face and smiled. “Whatever pleases you, my lady. You may create whatever traditions you please-I and all I have are yours to command.”

Delighted, not so much by the words as by the expression in his eyes, in his face presently devoid of any fashionable mask, Francesca smiled back. Inside, her heart rejoiced.

All she’d ever wanted, all she would ever need, was here, and hers. After last night, she’d been prepared to accept the reality without any declaration. Now she had it all-an enduring love and the words that acknowledged it clearly stated between them.

She studied his eyes, his face-the angular planes that gave so little away. Perhaps they owed Franni one thing more. “Why was it so difficult for you to say it-to utter such a small, simple word?”

He laughed, but not in amusement. “A small, simple word-only a woman would describe it as that.”

He hadn’t answered her question. Her eyes on his, Francesca waited.

He sighed and let his head fall back against the squabs. “It’s hard to explain, but as long as I didn’t say it aloud, didn’t openly admit it, then enough doubt existed so I could pretend I wasn’t taking a chance, that I wasn’t risking misery and destruction by being so foolish as to love you.”

Francesca frowned. Why…? Then she realized. Reaching up, she framed his face, made him meet her eyes. “I will always be here-I will always be with you. You may put as many guards about me as you wish, for however long it takes for you to accept that.”

Gyles read her eyes, then forced himself to say, “I learned very young that when you love, you leave yourself open to unimaginable hurt.”

“I know-but it’s still worth it.”

Gyles studied her eyes, then kissed her lightly, drew her back into his arms and rested his cheek against her hair. She was right. Nothing was more contrary than love. Nothing left a man more vulnerable, yet nothing could bring him such joy. In order to reap the harvest of love, it was necessary to accept the risk of losing that same love. Love was a coin with two sides, gain and loss. To secure the gain, one had to embrace the risk of loss.

How much he’d changed since the day he’d set out for Rawlings Hall. His home had been cold, lacking warmth, lacking life-he’d set out to find a wife to rectify the deficiency. He’d found her, and now she was his. His sun, warming his house, nurturing his family, giving meaning to his life. She was literally the center of his universe.

He decided he might as well tell her. After a moment, he murmured, “It didn’t all happen at once, you know.”

“Oh?” She wriggled and he let her turn once again so she could see his face, and he could see hers.

Taking her hand, he raised it to his lips. “Body, mind, heart, and soul.” His eyes on hers, he pressed a kiss to her palm. “My body was yours from the first instant I saw you-you claimed it as yours on our wedding night. My mind and heart you fought for and won-they’re now yours for all eternity.” He paused, sobering as he looked into her emerald eyes. “And as for my soul, it’s yours, freely offered-yours to take and chain as you choose.”

Francesca held his gaze and thought her heart would burst, with joy, with a happiness too profound to contain. Freeing her arms, she slid her hands over his shoulders, skating one to his nape as she raised her face to his. “Thank you, my lord. I accept.”

She sealed the bargain with a kiss-a kiss that promised a lifetime of bliss in the shackles of an enduring love.

They had only one formal engagement remaining before leaving for Lambourn-Lady Dalrymple’s Christmas dinner. It was early December, weeks before Christmas, but the last of the ton would soon depart the capital and return to their estates. Gyles would have given a great deal to escape earlier to Lambourn and escape the inevitable roasting from one of the few of his kind who would also be at the dinner.

There was to be no escape.

Francesca, superb in a gown of sea-green silk, drew all eyes, not just because of her lush curves but more so because of the radiant happiness glowing in her eyes, coloring her voice, implicit in her every gesture. To the irritation of his rakish self, he seemed incapable of doing anything other than beam with proprietorial pride.

Devil, of course, saw and understood, as few others would. From across the table set with silver and glittering crystal and the rich tones of Limoges dishes, Devil grinned-devilishly-and raised his glass in a private toast.