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“I know we have become friends.”
“Friends?” Gemma started to her feet, recalled she was in a carriage, and sat down with a thump. “Friends.You have become far more to me than that, Guy Lovell. It is a good name for you. Because that is what I feel for you.Love.”
Guy stilled like a man turned to stone, his face draining of color. “Love,” he whispered.
“Yes. I have said it. Love.” Giddiness welled up inside her. “I love, esteem, and care for you. Losing you would make me die inside. Do you care so little for me that you would make me attend your funeral?”
“Do I care so little?” Guy’s words began as a hoarse rasp then grew in strength. “Care so little? For you? Gemma, my darling, when you rushed into that sitting room and shoutedThimbles, I was enchanted, delighted, enamored. You ensnared me at that moment and have not let me go since. Care little for you? Why do you think I’m badgering Ash to purchase his beautiful house?So I can have someplace to take you that is worthy of you, that is why. Dear Lord, Gemma. I love you. I love every facet of you.”
Gemma had drawn a breath to continue arguing, but it wheezed back out like the croak of a startled frog.
“Then why do you want to die in a duel?”
Guy let out a groan. He slammed his hand to his head, dislodging his rain-spattered hat so he could clutch at his hair. The hat fell to the seat, drops splashing from it.
“I donotwant to die in the duel, it so happens. Never. I’d do nothing that took me from you. Devil take it, how did we come to this pass?”
“I do not know.” Tears stung Gemma’s eyes. “I only know I could never bear it if I lost you.”
Guy left his seat and landed next to her. His sardonic humor had vanished, nothing in his eyes but anguish, and behind that, loneliness and longing.
“Then to hell with the duel. Forgive my language, but strong words are called for. I will have Ash tell Wakefield to go kiss his own—er—hand.”
“Refuse the duel?” Gemma’s heart squeezed. “I’ve never heard of a gentleman walking away from such things.”
“Pah. I will walk, skip, dance, and run away. I care nothing for what Wakefield thinks of me, or any of thetonfixated on such things. I only care foryou.”
“I certainly do not want you to fight it,” Gemma said in worry. “But nor do I want Mr. Wakefield to make trouble for you.”
“He will not.” Guy’s smile was grim. “He is afraid of me, but that is nothing to the terror Ash induces in him. Very helpful to have a friend who is a formidable duke with a mighty temper. You leave Wakefield to us.”
“I suppose I shall have to,” Gemma conceded. She knew exactly what she was asking, but her fear of losing Guy when she’d only just found him swallowed every other concern.
“Gemma, you give me hope.” Guy gathered her to him. His coat, damp, held his heat; his arms, strength. “My darling, darling girl, for the first time in my life, you have made me hope. Could it be, that if I were to go down on one knee and beg you to marry me, you’d give me the answer I wished?”
Gemma’s heart hammered, and she had no idea what sort of words might come from her mouth. “I believe so,” she said shakily.
“She believes so. She toys with me. Very well.” Guy slid from the seat and awkwardly perched on one knee in the small space. “Gemma, my dearest and then more dear Gemma, my angel, my life. Will you do me the honor of making me the happiest man on earth?”
Gemma gasped as a wave of pure joy engulfed her. The bewilderment of Hugh’s death, the bleak years after John’s passing, and the shock and shame of Rupert’s ignominious end, faded before it. The whispers and titters that had followed her for years, speculating on her three rapid widowhoods, died away into the rainy afternoon.
This was Guy, her friend who made her laugh, who understood her worries, and knew how she longed for the world to leave her in peace. This was Guy of the warm smiles and bold kisses, who played music like a dream and whose voice drowned her in heat.
“Yes,” Gemma said softly. Then loudly, with a smile she couldn’t suppress. “Yes!”
“Heaven help me.” Guy slid onto the seat beside her again, his eyes wet. “I am in love. And want to marry.” He gulped air then he captured her face in his hands, his fingers warmthrough his close-fitting gloves. “Gemma you are saving me from unimaginable bleakness.”
“You saved me,” Gemma contradicted. She smoothed his hair that he’d rumpled. “When I needed you.”
Guy held her gaze, his dark eyes filled with tenderness. “No, lady. You burst in upon me, and happy day that you did.” He caressed her cheek with a strong thumb. “Enough of this witty banter, my dear. I want to celebrate your answer in the best way I can imagine.”
Gemma knew how she wanted to celebrate as well. Before Guy could lean to her, she seized him and pulled him fervently down into her arms.
Guy laughed, and then he was kissing her, she lying on the cushions with Guy’s weight on her, his mouth opening hers, his warmth a fine blanket. He slid one hand to her breast, gently cupping, streaming fire through her.
“I love you, Guy,” she whispered.
“I love you, Gemma, my lady.” Guy touched a kiss to her lower lip. “Chrysanthemums, how I love you.”