Page 42 of The Mistress (Foxgloves #1)

GIDEON

G ideon lay staring at the ceiling with Amelia’s head resting on his chest and his hand tracing circles along her spine. Her warm vanilla scent soothed him. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so content. So at peace and in love. And this amazing, wonderful, stunning woman wanted his love. Took it all in and gave him hers in return.

Of course, he’d known for a long time that she loved him, even before she’d first said it. She’d been showering him with her love for almost as long as he’d known her. She hadn’t said it until that night she came to him at his Townhouse, and it had made his breath leave him when she did. But hearing it tonight…. For no other reason than just to say, just to love him in their happiness together. The warmth that spread through him at the sound of those five words in that low, husky voice, it was indescribable. He’d never experienced anything like it.

“I will talk to Thomas tomorrow,” he said into the quiet night.

“About what?” she asked sleepily. He smiled at the sound, unable to rein in the fiercely male pride he felt at wearing her out so thoroughly. He couldn’t wait to wear her out in every possible way he could imagine.

“To ask for his permission,” he replied.

Her head snapped up. No longer lethargic, she looked at him with her brow furrowed deeply in confusion.

“What?” she asked.

“What?” he repeated.

“His permission for what, Gideon?” Amelia pushed to sit up fully, not bothering to cover herself.

“For your hand, of course,” he answered, sitting up, too. “I was planning to wait until after the wedding, so as not to distract from their day. And truthfully, I imagined I’d need more time to beg your forgiveness. Down on hand and knee if need be – it’s no less than I deserve. But after tonight, I don’t think it wise to wait.”

“Gideon,” she shook her head, her distress clearly growing.

Gideon watched her struggle. He rubbed her back comfortingly, and his voice was warm, gentle, and sure when he asked, “What’s the matter, my dear?”

“But I am your mistress,” she looked at him with confusion and what looked oddly like fear on her face. As if he was rejecting her – which made absolutely no sense.

“You are not my mistress, Amy,” he said firmly. “You will be my wife. I will never have a mistress or be with anyone else but you for the rest of my life.”

She looked down, shaking her head, and pulled the sheet up to cover herself.

He couldn’t understand it. Unless…. Unless she didn’t believe him? Unless she thought he would change his mind on his way to marrying her and then she wouldn’t be his anything. Was that it?

He lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes with her soft brown ones. “What is the matter?” he repeated, adding more of his dominance to the soft command.

“I am content, Gideon,” she told him quietly, truthfully. “I don’t want to lose what we have, lose you , trying to gain something more. I just want to be with you. I don’t care about marriage.”

This was it. The difficulty wasn’t in obtaining her forgiveness. No, it was in this. In showing her what she meant to him, what she was worth. Gideon felt the now familiar ache of regret in his chest. She still didn’t believe herself worthy of being his wife. So much so that she thought she would lose him again at the prospect of it. That she could lose him at all.

There was nothing for it. He couldn’t undo the past, but he could be the man she deserved going forward and give her the solid footing she needed to never doubt her feet again.

“What did I tell you all those weeks ago, Amy?” His voice was hard but not without warmth. “What am I to you?”

She hesitated before answering. “You are mine.”

“And what are you to me?”

“I am yours.”

“And what will I always do?”

“Take care of me, my needs, without apology or reservation.” He couldn’t hold back the pleased smile that pulled at his lips.

“And what will you always do?”

She hesitated another moment, but then said, “Trust in us.”

“I broke my word before and failed you. I have made you doubt your worth to me and the permanency of my love,” he cupped her face. “But let me be clear now. You are the most beautiful, most exquisite thing in my world, and always will be. There is no one richer, brighter, more perfect for me, nor will there ever be. There is no better wife for me; mistress for my bed; mother for my children; duchess for my house; sister for my sister; love for my life. I don’t know how you were made for me, or I for you, but you were, and you have gathered the pieces of my broken and scarred soul and rebuilt it whole and healed.

“I had been so sure there was no happiness to be found in marriage after seeing nothing but pain, loss, hatred, and indifference in my parents’ marriage. In their treatment of Genevieve and me. But you, my sweet Amelia, have shown me that won’t be true of my marriage. That a man can love his wife like she is the center of all things. The most precious, most important thing of his life. His strength, his heart, his soul. Because you are, Amy. All that and more.

“I will never fail you or make you doubt yourself again. I will never abandon you. I will never put my needs or my stubbornness before you and your needs, because caring for you and loving you is my greatest need. So, I guess, yes, you will be my mistress. My whore in our bedroom. And I will be yours. I will love you, care for you, cherish you, and want none but you for all our days and after. There is no one that could ever be anything more for me than you. You, my soon-to-be wife, are my everything.”

Her lip trembled as she stared unblinkingly into his eyes. He let her see his sincerity, determination, and love – all of it, uncensored and unfaltering. She lost her composure completely as a sob escaped her. Covering her face with her hands, she let the sheet fall to her lap and cried. Gideon did not hesitate. Pulling her to him, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head, while her cries mixed oddly with laughter.

She lifted her face back up, not bothering to wipe her tears.

“You want to marry me?” she repeated, another laugh joyously escaping with her words.

“More than anything.” Amusement played in his eyes even as his face and voice remained serious. “I must confess, I did already tell Genevieve without first asking you, but we can remedy that right now. Won’t you be my duchess, my dear?”

She laughed outright, her happiness overflowing, and kissed him then, the salt of her tears making it all the sweeter.