Hardly A Gentleman (8 page)

When Margaret’s lips departed, Jacob stroked her cheek with his knuckle. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered. “So very, very beautiful.”

“Jacob,” Margaret whimpered his name, “if you wanted me, why did you wait so long?”

“Because I was a fool. A coward, and a fool.” His knuckle brushed her mouth, then he sampled her lips again. He kissed her several times—he kissed her once for every year they lost. He could scarcely believe he was kissing
Margaret Berryton
, the woman he had loved for ages.

And she could hardly believe she was kissing Jacob Billingsley, the young man she had always adored—albeit secretly.

“Do you love me, Jacob?” she asked. “Truly?”

He saw a tear on Maggie’s cheek, so he kissed it away. “Always. I’ve always loved you.”

“I love you too.”

When he heard the words, the relief that rushed over him was unlike anything he had ever felt. It was as if all the tension in his body was suddenly released.

“There has never been another man in my heart, Jacob Billingsley,” Margaret admitted. “Only you.
Always
you.”

“Every year, I watched you leave.” Jacob tucked a tendril of Margaret’s hair behind her ear. “And every year, I could not wait for you to return. I was always so thrilled to see you… unbeknownst to you.”

“And my greatest fear…” Margaret admitted, “was that I would arrive, only to find that you no longer visited Lydia each day. I was so afraid I would not see you.”

“I can hardly believe it. I… I never knew.” Jacob shook his head with disbelief, then he pulled her closer and kissed her forehead. “I love you, Maggie. I love you with all of my heart. I’m never letting you leave me again. Wherever life takes you, I want you to take me with you. I would be lost without you.”

“I
have
been lost. For seven years.” Another tear slipped from Margaret’s eye as she spoke, and he gently brushed it away. “I never want to miss you, Jacob. Never again.”

Jacob wrapped his arms around her, holding her as tightly as he could. “And you never shall.”

Margaret lovingly laid her cheek against his chest. In his arms, she felt stronger. She felt her sorrow disappear. “Jacob?”

“Hm?”

“If Lydia was here… if she was with us…” Margaret laid her chin on his chest and gazed up at him; he was much taller than her, after all. “What would she think?”

“I think she would be proud of me, for not being a coward.” As Jacob stared into the depths of Margaret’s eyes, it was undeniable: these were the eyes of the woman he would love forever. Smiling down at her, he said, “And she would be happy beyond description.”