No Regrets (43 page)

   "If you will excuse me," Tisha said. "I have a wedding to plan?" With a face as red as a peony, Tisha grabbed Maestro's bridle and trotted him down the hall.

   Caro stared after her. "A wedding? I thought it was a musicale?"

   "We'll discuss it inside," Lucas said and gestured for her to enter. The room seemed brighter, cleaner, less shabby—almost as though they were expected. He kicked the door shut with his heel and let Caro's wrist drop.

   "Now," he said in an ominous voice.

   She swung around to face him, putting distance between them. "What is this all about?"

   His body lacked its usual grace, wide shoulders taut, back stiff, jaw hard. "I brought you here so we could start anew."

   They were back to their agreement. She shook her head. "It won't work." She loved him far too much to be a wife in name only.

   He planted himself in front of her and gripped her shoulders painfully. She gasped. His dark eyes blazed. "Would it make any difference if I told you I love you, that I want to spend the rest of my life trying to convince you to love me?"

   The words came at her with such fury that for a moment, she didn't believe her hearing. "You love me?" She couldn't help the disbelief she heard in her voice.

   "After yesterday, can you doubt it?"

   She wrapped her arms around her waist. "Why are you saying this now?"

   He fell to one knee, pulled her hand free, and pressed his lips to each finger, one at a time. Warmth trickled into her stomach; her inner muscles tightened and pulsed.

   Transfixed by his dark serious gaze, she felt her heart beat a slow tattoo of cautious joy, while her mind warned her to take care.

   "Caro, my love. I love your courage and your loyalty to your family, and to me, when I never deserved it, but most of all I love you. I'm just sorry it took me so long to dare to say the words."

   She opened her mouth to deny the possibility.

   "Let me finish. Please."

   She nodded.

   "I tied myself in knots seeking my father's love, gave up my music, and followed the path he chose for me, and yet in the end, it just wasn't good enough. I wasn't good enough. I swore I would never let anyone control me like that again. My desire to please you scared me as much as your dissatisfaction with what I had let myself become." He uttered a little laugh. "Not that I am nearly as bad as I am purported to be."

   "I know," she whispered. "You are good and kind. And you are just doing this to save me from scandal."

   "Damn it, Caro. Can't you see? I am doing this for me . . . for us. I cannot live without you, and I will not let you leave me if I have to lock you in this room forever." He grinned. "Naked, if need be."

   A shimmer of visceral pleasure pulsed low in her abdomen at the naughty image.

   He sighed. "No, I won't do that. But I won't let you go, until I am absolutely sure you could never return my love. After yesterday, I won't believe you feel nothing at all. But I won't force you."

   Her heart felt so light, she thought she might float away if he were not holding her fast to the ground. "You never forced me." Her words caught on a laugh. "I knew you wouldn't ruin me. I took advantage of your need for money. I thought I could change you back into the boy I remembered."

   His smile died. "He's gone."

   "Not entirely. He's grown up and knows pain and hurt, but he's still there, rescuing maidens in distress. But you deserve someone far more beautiful than me, someone elegant and worldly."

   "There you go again, belittling yourself. Don't you realize how lovely you are to me? Didn't you see how those damn Frenchmen couldn't take their eyes from you because they thought you were unmarried? You drove me mad with jealousy. It must be your choice this time, but believe me when I say I love you. Marry me."

   She blinked. "I thought we were married?"

   His eyes danced. "I mean a proper marriage, not a secret agreement and a drunken blacksmith in Gretna Green. A wedding with our family and friends around us. A marriage built on trust and respect and love. There's a special license in my pocket and a vicar downstairs."

   Her mouth dropped open. She closed it with a snap. "The party?"

   "It's our wedding, Caro. Yours and mine. I even brought my own musicians from London."

   "Your orphans?"

   He nodded. "Yes. I'm afraid you are marrying into a ready-made family. They live at the house you thought I purchased for my mistress. I didn't want anyone to know what I was doing in case it didn't work."

   "I know. Your father told me."

   He smiled up at her, love and dread shining in his eyes. "Please, Caro, say yes. My knee will never be the same again if I don't get up soon."

   She gazed into his wonderful, handsome face and laughed. "After climbing up the outside of a tower and then snatching me from a church, surely you can stand a few moments of pain."

   "Not this kind. You know I hate to wait." Anxiety swirled with the laughter in his voice.

   She suddenly felt shy. "Yes, Lucas, I would like that very much."

   He leaped to his feet, hauled her into his arms, and kissed her soundly and deeply. The world spun away. There was only her and him.

   A knock sounded at the door. Caro jumped.

   "Come in," Lucas called.

   Alex and Lucy and Jacqueline poured in, followed by Lizzie carrying a gown and Miss Salter with a bouquet and a floral headdress.

   "Out you go, your lordship," Lizzie said. "Lady Audley said I have ten minutes to prepare my lady, and I need every single one."

   "Eight minutes," Lucas said, with a laugh. "If she is not down there in eight minutes, Maestro and I will be back to carry her off."

   Eight minutes later, Lucas watched his bride walk down the stone stairs. The stars in her glorious amber eyes outshone the diamonds at her throat.

   He would make damn sure he was worthy of the love shining in her face. He poured his heart into his gaze and smiled his promise.

   No more regrets.

Born and educated in England, Michèle Ann Young loved history growing up, and as a voracious reader of historical novels, she became fascinated with the Regency era. With all the glamour and glitz of high society, the age is modern enough to be familiar some two hundred years later. She loves bringing the time period to life with her stories of women facing the same issues that women face today.

   From England she moved to Canada, where she now lives and writes in Richmond Hill, Ontario, with her husband and two beautiful daughters and their adopted Maltese terrier, Teaser. Each summer, Michèle returns to England to visit family and to research her next novel.

   Michèle loves to hear from readers. Visit her at her website at
http://www.micheleannyoung.com
, or drop by her Regency Ramble blog at http://www. micheleannyoung.blogspot.com, where, in addition to the odd bit of writing gossip, she shares the sights and sounds of Regency England from her annual travels.