Page 19 of The Duke’s Goddess (Duke Dare #2)

“The soul's greatest journey is the path to self-discovery.”

—Joan of Arc

IMMEDIATE REGRET SLAMMED THROUGH her and Joan grabbed her metal tongs to retrieve the letter from the coals.

She tamped it down with a heavy cloth, relieved that it hadn’t even had time to char. The paper had only turned a mild shade of brown.

She thought she was strong enough to ignore him. Strong enough to move on and into her future without him.

But her sisters’s words echoed in her mind. You’ll never be sure unless you read his letter. You could be the one that he finally fell for.

It was true. There was hope. And if there was even the tiniest shred of hope left, she needed to examine it.

Waiting for the letter to cool enough for her fingers to open it was the longest few seconds of her life. When she could finally peel open and unfold the letter, she read his words.

Dearest Joan,

I would have sent flowers, but you didn’t seem the type. Perhaps I shouldn’t be admitting to this, as it discredits the humility behind the gesture, but I couldn’t remain silent.

I secured the commission requests and had them forwarded to you. They are better than flowers, are they not? Everyone sends flowers.

Before you get angry and think they are pity commissions, rest assured, I didn’t need to convince anyone to make the purchase. I merely showed them one of your blades. Yes, I must confess, I stole one from the house party when I saw you throwing daggers. By the way, seeing your power and accuracy in hitting that bullseye was one of the most impressive things I’ve ever seen anyone do. And I’ve seen Sam and Wes compete in an abundance of activities.

At this point, you are probably wondering why I’m writing you a letter (and securing commissions for you).

The truth is that I want you to be happy.

Joan wiped a few tears from her cheeks at his heartfelt words, and then she continued reading.

I never wanted to ruin you. I’ll forever feel that it is my fault. I wish you would let me fix it, but I understand your reasoning.

I had hoped that we could be happy together in a marriage. But if you don’t envision that, I’ll not force you into something you’ll resent later.

Your happiness is important to me. I thought I could prioritize it above my own, but apparently I’m a weak man.

So, now, the reason for this letter. Will you meet with me?

Shocked, Joan let the missive drop to the table. He wanted to meet. What could he possibly have to say to her in person that he couldn’t say in a letter? The only time they had spent together was in scheming to get Sally and Jacob together. It would be awkward to be alone with him lacking a clear objective.

But then again, they had kissed. Where had the scheming been while his hands roamed her body and her legs had straddled his waist? A shiver laced itself up her spine. And all their side conversations that introduced layers to him she had never expected. His family. His mother. Lacking affection. The vulnerability he shared. There was no ulterior motive in those conversations. There was only connection. Pure. Deep. A threading between her heart and his that was still tugging on her.

Glancing down at his suggested meeting place and time, she knew she would go. He was making it easy enough on her that she had no excuse. She had to meet him. At the very least, she wanted to thank him in person for helping her grow her business. And she knew just how she would thank him. The thought brought a smile to her face.

And if that was all that she did, it would be enough. She would have a clear conscience to face her future knowing she and James could be friends. Friends. The word tumbled around on her tongue. Friends was good.

But before she accepted friendship as the final status of their relationship, she had to give them one more shot.

***

JAMES DIDN’T SEEM TO notice his incessantly tapping toe, but if he had asked the lawn, it surely, and sorely, noticed. But who was talking to the lawn? Not James. He wasn’t practicing his speech aloud. Mumbling through the words and stumbling over the newfangled emotions traipsing about his heart. No, not him.

And that certainly wasn’t him heaving a sigh, huffing out a breath, clasping his hands overheard in hopes of getting more air into his lungs.

It was a hot day, but not so hot as to warrant the trickling of sweat down his back. And across his upper lip. For the thirty-third time that afternoon, he dragged a hand down his face wiping away the excess moisture.

And he waited. Staring off at the hills hiding Bellator Manor in the distance. Joan’s place of residence.

He didn’t want to give her any reason not to meet him, yet he wanted to give her a choice. So he instructed her to meet him on her own property, on one of the ponds. The plan was to wait for her and if she didn’t show up, he would leave, taking that as her final answer. And he wanted to think that if she didn’t show up, he would execute his plan. But there was more than a small part of him raging about inside that wasn’t too sure he wouldn’t just saunter over to her house and force a meeting.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to make that decision. There, cresting the hill, was Joan. In a mixture of sage and emerald green hues that made her effervescent, James’s knees felt weak. And he finally did take notice of his tapping toe, which he stilled.

He wanted to run and meet her halfway, but more importantly, he didn’t want to scare her off. He was the one who had been scared before. Scared of marriage and a future. Now he was waiting for it with open arms. Literally.

When Joan finally reached him, he could see the trepidation in her eyes. He could feel the invisible wall she had erected around herself, and he hated that she needed to do that to protect herself. But he would share all that with her in time.

No embrace, for now, he greeted her with a soft word, fearing he might break the glass around her. Then, he took her hand and guided them toward a little rowboat.

“We’re not actually going in that thing are we?” Joan inquired with a raised brow.

“We are.”

“Do I need to remind you of what happened the last time we got in a rowboat together?”

“No reminders necessary. I remember. And this time, I want to do it right.” He pulled out an extra pair of stockings from his pocket and waved them in the air.

And then she did exactly as he had predicted, but with so much more impact on his heart than he had imagined.

She laughed. A deep laugh from her belly. The kind of laugh one sometimes waited months for and when it finally did come out, one lingered and drew it out to squeeze every last ounce of pleasure from it.

He laughed right along with her, feeling immediately relieved. No more toe tapping. No more rehearsing lines. He was in the moment with her. The one he wanted to be with. He only hoped he could reassure her of that. He wasn’t ready to say that he loved her, but he knew he felt more than just affection. He could convince her that one day love would blossom. At least now he could admit that love probably existed.

Her laugh mesmerized him. Engulfed him. Filling him up to overflowing. And right at the tail end of her laughter, she threw her arms around him.

Stunned, his arms hung at his sides. This was not a passionate embrace. There was no sexual tension being emitted from her. It was pure and simple a hug of appreciation.

She didn’t realize what she was doing to him in that moment. James had never felt such physical contact as this.

Appreciation.

Admiration.

Trust.

Respect.

Belonging.

…Love.

James blinked hard at the stinging sensation in his eyes. Just when he thought Joan was done with the hug, she looked up at him.

“Thank you for that, James. I needed that. You are a good man.” Tenderness, care, warmth. Her eyes were flooded with gentleness. For him.

Gradually he lifted his arms to pull her in closer to him and rubbed her lower back. “Thank you , Joan. You have no idea how much I needed this.”

Abandoning the rowboat plan for now, he withdrew his arms and tugged her down to sit on the grass next to him.

“I think we should talk about the night on the terrace.” They had never really spoken about it, and it was time. After the kiss, he had been shaken to his core. But he could hardly admit that to himself, never mind explore those feelings by sharing them with Joan. Broaching the subject with her now was risky, but it was a necessary risk. His legs were trembling, and he was thankful to be sitting on the grass. It was grounding him. Reminding him that even though the stakes felt too high, the earth would still be here if she rejected him. The world would keep turning. The sun would keep rising. The grass would keep growing. He took a deep inhalation and exhaled, looking for peace.

“All is forgotten, James. There’s no need to discuss it.”

“All the same, I want to share my perspective with you.” She may not see the need, but he did. In some ways he was surprised that she didn’t want to talk about it. And he wasn’t sure if it was due to nerves, discomfort, propriety, or really that she didn’t care. He hoped it wasn’t the latter.

“There’s no need—”

“Please, Joan.” He would beg if he had to. It was imperative that he explore these feelings with her.

“I’m listening,” she conceded as she began playing with the grass between them.

“At first, when we were around each other, we had a purpose. A common objective. It was amusing to converse with you and learn about how your mind worked. Somehow, we were able to communicate with each other so easily.”

He watched as Joan nodded her head.

“Then, that night in the garden. When we kissed” —he saw the blush in her cheeks and felt a flutter in his own stomach— “something changed. For me. I don’t know about you…”

“Something changed for me too,” she agreed quietly, still not looking directly at him.

“Altogether, I have witnessed your power with a blade, your camaraderie with your sisters, your intelligence in scheming, and your recklessness around me.”

“I’m not reckless,” she defended with a quick glance but then returned her eyes to the soft green blades.

“Perhaps I bring out the best in you, then,” he teased, hoping to catch her eye.

But her reply consisted of a mumbled, “Perhaps.”

“But the candle was extinguished when I saw Lord Tamely’s hands on you. I saw black. Blackness for him. I wanted to call him out. But I also didn’t want to make it something that it wasn’t. The last straw was when he challenged my protection of you.”

James reached out and slipped Joan’s hand in his. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, but now was the time. This was the moment to step up and be a man. To go after what he wanted. To open himself up to being hurt in the hopes of gaining what he needed.

“This didn’t come about the way I expected it to. Hell, that’s mostly because I never would have predicted this. You. Joan. But somehow you’ve made me believe in love. You have shown it to me. There’s something I feel when I look into your eyes. Talk to you. Listen to you. I want to know everything about you, and I want to share everything about myself with you. I want you to be mine. I want a future with you.”

“What are you saying, James?”

“I’m saying,” he paused, rubbing his thumb back and forth over her knuckles, “You are power, intelligence, and beauty combined. I never thought a woman like you could exist. And then we found each other. You are loyal. You love your friends and family fiercely, wanting only the best for them. But you also know when to stand up for yourself and live your life fully.”

He brushed a lock of hair behind her ears. “You make me happy. When you hugged me just now, I knew without a doubt that I’m supposed to be here. We’re supposed to be together. I’m saying…I can’t believe I’m saying it, but I know it’s true.” James’s heart beat rapidly in his chest. Like a growling tiger knowing he had been captive for too long, wanting to be free. Wanting to love. And be loved. He was taking a chance and risking it all on Joan. If she rejected him, he wasn’t sure he could ever let himself love again. But this tiger, his heart, needed to be free to live and roam and be fully alive.

So James did the most reckless thing he had ever done. He opened himself up to an unrestrained future. “I love you, Joan. Will you marry me?”