Page 50 of The Duke’s Scottish Bride (Scottish Duchesses #3)

Chapter Forty-One

M arion let silent tears fall, not from sorrow, but from the overwhelming flood of relief and hope that flooded her insides.. He saw it. He truly saw her, and himself.

“Ye… ye hurt me so deeply, Anselm,” she whispered. “I thought… I thought I had lost everythin’. Me home, me friend, the man I… I had come to love.”

Her gaze met his, unwavering and strong as a mare galloping through an open field.

“All I ever hoped for was to live a happy life, a life of me own, where I could make me own decisions. Where me choices were me own.”

She took a shaky breath.

“If ye want me to stay, Anselm, truly stay… ye must never take away me choices ever again. Ye cannae try to control me, or the course of me life.”

“I vow it, Marion,” he said as he dropped down to one knee in front of her. “On my honor and my name. Never again. Your choices are your own. Always. I only hope that I can witness them.”

Marion searched his gaze and saw sincerity in his emerald eyes. A faint, hopeful smile touched her lips.

“And Verity,” she added, her voice softer. “Ye must do the same for your sister. Allow her the freedom to live her life, to pursue her passions, without unneeded interference. She needs yer trust, Anselm, not yer control. To yer credit, ye did raise her. Ye should be confident in yer work.”

He nodded immediately, without hesitation, before rising to his feet.

“I promise that, too, Marion. I have seen the error of my ways. With both of you. I will strive to be a brother who supports, not dictates. A husband who trusts, not controls.”

He reached out. His thumb gently wiped a tear from her cheek, before pressing it to his full lips.

Marion leaned into his chest. Her heart swelled with a love that felt stronger, more resilient, for having weathered the storm.

“I love ye too, Anselm,” she breathed. The words were a soft caress against his lips as she stood on her tip toes to kiss him.

He groaned as he pressed his lips deep into her mouth, kissing her ardently. It was as good as a handshake, a kiss that sealed their vows and a promise of a future built on understanding, trust, and a love acknowledged. The world outside the conservatory faded away. Only they existed.

Suddenly, the distinct sound of the lock clicking open echoed through the conservatory as they broke apart, startled.

They turned to the entrance to see Emmanuel standing in the doorway.

He held a triumphant, if slightly sheepish, grin on his face.

Verity stood beside him with her cheeks flushed and her smile wide.

“Well, well, well,” Emmanuel drawled as he began to clap slowly. “It seems our little intervention was rather successful, would not you agree, Verity? Though I daresay, the air in here is quite… hot. Thick almost? One could cut it with a knife.”

He winked at Verity, who hit him lightly on the arm with a soft thwack.

“Emmanuel! You are insufferable! Come along, we ought to leave them to it,” Verity said as she looked to Marion. “Marion, my dear. I am so glad. Truly.”

She offered a small, apologetic smile, which Marion returned with a small wink.

“We only wanted to check on you both. We were… concerned and…”

“Tis’ quite all right, Verity. Thank ye…. both of ye,” she said as she turned to Emmanuel. “Perhaps, Emmanuel, ye and I might take tea in the garden? The air is rather… I mean, less thick out there. Shall we?”

Marion glanced up at Anselm with a silent question in her eyes. He met her gaze and a slow, tender smile spread across his face before he gave a subtle, affirming nod.

Emmanuel blinked, momentarily confused by the sudden invitation, then his eyes widened in understanding.

“Ah! An excellent suggestion, Your Grace! A most excellent suggestion indeed!” He offered her his arm with his customary flourish.

“Lead the way, then. I believe the rose bushes are quite in need of some stimulating conversation. Would you believe I was speaking with some lord whatshisname the other day, and he said if you talk to the plants they actually grow faster.”

“I actually have heard that,” Marion said as she took his arm.

There was a lightness in her step she hadn’t felt in days. As they walked towards the conservatory doors, leaving Anselm and Verity alone, she glanced back.

Anselm was watching her with a profound love and relief etched on his face.

The walls are down. Finally.