Page 14 of Buon Natale, My Wicked Rogue (Wicked Widows’ League #18)
“Angela, did you have any particular aversion to becoming married again?”
With her fork in midair, she startled at the question. Evan asked this casually, as though he had asked if she had an aversion to going for a walk after their meal. She put her fork on the plate and studied him.
The earlier sternness of his drawn-together brows and the rigid set of his jaw had made him appear under some strain.
He had returned from Brighton sooner than she had expected, and since his return, he’d been distant and uncharacteristically out of sorts.
Now, he appeared calmer, though he still seemed determined from the set of his jaw and the look in his eyes.
“I don’t know. I hadn’t even considered it.” Liar, you’ve fantasized enough about it with him.
She tried to focus on eating her slice of apple pie, but she found it hard to swallow past the lump that suddenly seemed to have lodged itself in her throat. “I miss pumpkin pie.”
At her announcement, he frowned. “Angela, pay attention. I am trying to speak with you about a serious matter.”
His snappishness had not eased. She gave an inward sigh. “Evan, I just want to enjoy the holiday. I don’t want to think about marrying some other man.”
He gaped at her. “Who said anything about you marrying another man?”
“You asked me if I was averse to marrying another man.”
“I meant that you should marry me.” His determined stare burned into her, and she could not look away.
Her heart sank to her stomach, and she put her forkful of apple pie down on her plate with a clatter that sounded jarring in the silence. Her throat began to burn. “Please, Evan, do not tease me like this.”
“Tease you?” He sounded astonished.
“Please don’t. Jacob used to tease me with the most terrible things. And this is... Oh, how can you be so cruel?”
Feeling as though she might become ill, she stood and pushed her chair back. She threw a glance at him, but tears had already blurred his image.
Alone in the empty corridor, she struggled to regain control over her wildly flaring emotions.
“Angela.” His voice was soft, tender.
She had not heard him approach over the pounding of her heart in her ears. Now, humiliation burned through her to have been caught like this, choking back tears. Why couldn’t he have left her alone, at least until she could think through her feelings? “Vattene.”
He came closer. “No, I can’t go away.”
“You are cruel!”
“Is it cruel to ask you to marry me? You are afraid?”
“Yes, I am afraid. I am afraid of wanting things I can never have.”
“You mean like marriage to me?”
“Yes, exactly. You know that you cannot marry me. A commoner. A bastard.”
“Don’t!”
She flinched and stepped back from him.
“Don’t.” He softened his tone. “Don’t call yourself that. And it doesn't matter. I am a grown man; I will marry anyone I want. And I want to marry you.”
She calmed down. A bit. “I am not even English.”
“You were born from one of the oldest, most respected bloodlines in England. You are half English.”
“Amesbury never acknowledged me.”
“He will now,” Evan said in a firm voice. “No one will make you feel less than, not while I draw breath.”
“And one last thing. I never gave Jacob a child. You need sons.”
“Now, wait just one moment. You told me that Jacob stopped visiting your bed within months of having married you.”
She sagged. “Yes, that’s right.”
“I will never stop bedding you. That’s a promise.”
“Just because you keep bedding me doesn’t mean that I will conceive your son.”
“Then I shall simply keep on loving you and allow my distant cousin to inherit when I die.”
“No, you’ll resent me. In time, you will. I know that you noblemen value passing on your titles to your own sons, your own flesh and blood. Family bloodlines mean more to your kind than the love of any woman.”
“Angela, I would give up everything for you.”
Warmth blossomed in her chest. Feeling her eyes widening, she threw her hand over her mouth.
“Yes, Angela, you heard me correctly. I love you more than anything or anyone else in the entire world. If I were to lose you, my whole world would end. I would rather die than live without you.”
She had stepped back, and she trembled at his passionate declaration.
“Now that I have thrown my pride aside completely and laid my heart out for you to accept or reject as you want, what do you have to say to me?” he asked in a more moderate tone.
“Oh Mamma Mia!” she exclaimed softly.
He came to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I love you, Angela.”
She still trembled, and she stared at him, unable to speak.
He released her, and he bent down on one knee and took her hand.
“Angela Berry, will you be my countess?”
Well, what else was there to say to such a gesture?
“Yes, I will.”