Lady Beauchamp's Proposal (33 page)

“That was two weeks after Isabelle died,” he
whispered.
Could it be true?
Could Isabelle have saved Beth
from the undeserved and cruel fate that would have been hers
otherwise?

“Perhaps she didn’t write a letter for you
only, my love. Perhaps she also wrote one to me. I still have it.”
Beth leaned over to the stand beside the bed to retrieve her
reticule, and after unfastening it, pulled out a rather creased and
stained piece of plain parchment. She passed it to him.

“It seems perverse I know, to keep something
like this—a letter from my husband’s mistress. I suppose any sane
person would have burnt it. But whenever I start to have doubts
about what I have done—running away—I look at it, and it reminds me
that leaving Hugh was perhaps the only thing I could do, to stay
safe.”

Rothsburgh unfolded the parchment with
shaking hands.

Dear Lady Beauchamp,

You won’t believe me but I write this
missive with the best of intentions…

He glanced up at Beth, then swallowed past
the lump of emotion jamming his throat. “Yes. It’s from Isabelle.”
He drew a shuddering breath and dashed away a tear. “I’m sorry,
Beth. You’ll think me a fool for reacting this way.”

Beth shook her head. “I would never think
that, James.”

He believed her. There was no judgment in
her expression, only understanding. He put Isabelle’s letter on the
side table and turned back to the woman he loved more than
anything.

“It’s just that…I have hated Isabelle for so
long. But now, despite all of the terrible things she did, to
discover that she had a shred of decency within her…it means a lot
to me.” He lifted Beth’s bandaged hand to his lips. “Especially
because she saved you.”

Beth’s eyes were shining as she reached
forward and caressed his cheek. “Yes, she did.”

She was touching him. Such a simple gesture,
but one that conveyed tenderness.
Caring
. Perhaps more. God,
he prayed that it meant more. He suddenly didn’t want to speak
about Hugh or Isabelle anymore. His desire to find out how Beth
truly felt about him was so great, he ached.

He turned his face toward Beth’s hand and
kissed her palm, before catching her gaze again. “Beth, although I
might seem overwhelmed with emotion right now, I didn’t miss that
you called me,
my love,
only a few moments ago.” Placing his
hand over hers, he searched her beautiful face, and her soft grey
eyes, trying to see through to her very soul. He drew another
steadying breath. “So did you mean it, Beth? Am I your love?”

“
So did you mean it, Beth? Am I your
love?”

Elizabeth’s heart began to pound wildly in
her chest, and her cheeks flamed under James’s intense scrutiny.
The unconcealed longing in his dark brown eyes was so clear, it
stole her breath away; made her very soul weep because she couldn’t
possibly tell him what was in her heart. Even though James now knew
who she really was, and understood why she’d had to leave Hugh,
admitting how she felt about him wouldn’t change anything.

She couldn’t be with him. Not the way he
wanted. And certainly not the way he deserved. He deserved to have
the love of a woman who could truly be his. She had to make him see
that there was no point in hoping for a happily ever after.

She had to send him away.

She tried to withdraw her hand from his
darkly stubbled cheek, but he wouldn’t let her. His eyes narrowed,
grew darker as his grip tightened imperceptibly, not enough to
hurt, but enough to let her know she wasn’t going to be allowed to
escape. Not this time. Not until she confessed. Judging by the
determined look in his eyes right at this moment, resisting him
wasn’t going to be easy.

She blinked away tears. Drew in a shaky
breath as she prepared to hurt him.
Again.
“James, it
doesn’t matter what I want or how I feel—”

“Of course it bloody matters,” he said with
such unexpected harshness, she winced. “You know how I feel about
you. Despite everything you’ve told me, that hasn’t changed, Beth.
And if there’s any chance at all that you care for me…that you love
me…I need to know.”

His voice had a desperate, raw edge to it
and she felt a sharp stab of conscience. Now that she knew how
deeply he’d been scarred by Isabelle, she understood why it was so
important for him to know that he was loved.

But she couldn’t ignore the cold stark fact
that there could never be any real future for them. Not when she
believed he still had a chance to meet and fall for someone else
that would love him equally in return. Another woman that was free
and that he could wed. Who could give him the children he must long
for. An heir that was actually his.

And she couldn’t be that woman
.

She shook her head. This was so hard,
denying him what he so wanted to hear, what she so wanted to tell
him. “James. I’m Hugh’s wife. No matter how much you or I wish it
wasn’t so, we can’t overlook that. You deserve so much more than I
can ever give you. I’m not worthy—”

Some potent emotion she couldn’t quite
name—perhaps it was desire, anger or despair or a combination of
all three—flared in the dark depths of his eyes, and he reached out
to grasp her face between his large hands so she couldn’t look
away. “What rubbish, Beth. I know I reacted badly when you admitted
that you were married. But I was shocked and hurt, and I said
things that I shouldn’t have…” His gaze fell to her mouth and for
an instant she thought he was going to kiss her with bruising
force. Stake his claim.

But the moment passed quickly and instead,
his hands slid in a gentle caress to rest upon her shoulders. His
dark scowl faded to be replaced with a look of contrition. “I’m
truly sorry for how I behaved.”

“You don’t need to apologize, James—”

“But I do. You and Isabelle are nothing
alike, and I had no right to compare your actions to hers. You are
everything to me. And regardless of the fact that you are married,
I still want you…” His eyes locked with hers, and when he spoke
again his voice was deep and soft like a velvet sigh in the dark.
“I can’t help it. I love you, Beth.”

His gaze dropped to her mouth as he ran his
thumb along her lower lip, and she couldn’t suppress the hot tremor
of desire that shot through her, all the way to her very toes. Such
a tender, coaxing, calculated caress; he was clearly trying to
seduce her into an admission. “I’ve told you before I am a selfish
man…I’ll have you any way I can…everyone and everything else be
damned.”

Oh foolish heart. Foolish hope.

You must be strong and crush them,
Elizabeth
.

But that was becoming increasingly hard to
do as the heat of James’s touch and his gaze began to seep through
to her core, melting her bones and her resolve into a molten
puddle, as if she was as insubstantial as a beeswax candle that had
been set too close to a furnace.

Damn him.
Why couldn’t he see that
she was trying to send him away for his own good? That he was
better off without her?

She dragged the last remnants of her will
together. “Being with you would be wrong.”

He sighed and a wry smile tugged at the
corner of his mouth. “What are you going to do then, Beth? I’m damn
certain that you’re not going back to Hugh. Are you really going to
spend the next ten to fifteen years—however long Hugh lives—in
hiding, as some poorly paid companion or lowly governess?” He
tilted her chin up and searched her eyes. “Can you really face
that? All those long, lonely years ahead? Now
that
would be
wrong.”

“What alternative do I have?” she whispered,
unable to hide the traitorous, telling catch in her voice. She was
so tired of fighting him. And herself.

He smiled slowly and trailed a finger along
her jaw, down her neck until he encountered the neckline of her
chaste flannel nightrail. He flicked the top button open. “You
could stay with me.”

He undid the next button, his eyes never
leaving hers. “If you wanted to.”

The last button came undone. “If you loved
me.”

Such temptation.
Heaven help
her.

“Tell me, Beth.” His dark gaze fell to her
mouth again, and he leant forward and placed a feather-light,
almost innocent kiss at the corner of her mouth. “Am I your love?”
Another teasing kiss on her cheek, then on her jaw. “Or do you feel
nothing for me?” His breath was warm against her skin, and she
shivered as he mercilessly traced a line of kisses from her
earlobe, down her now exposed neck to the exquisitely sensitive
flesh just above her collarbone.

“James…” Her voice emerged as a husky
moan.

“Yes, Beth?”

“I…I can’t think when you kiss me.”

“Good. I don’t want you to think.” She felt
his lips curve in a smile against her heated skin before he placed
another kiss on her throat where her pulse fluttered wildly like a
trapped creature. “I want you to tell me how you feel.”

“You’re not being fair.”

His gaze returned to hers. Hot, dark,
compelling. “I know.” Another kiss, this time on her mouth. Ever so
soft like a whispered prayer.

“Tell me.” He breathed against her lips.
“For the love of God, Beth…”

A rake’s ploys she could attempt to resist.
But against this raw, naked need, she was helpless. She summoned
her voice and at last uttered the words he’d been longing to
hear.

“I love you.”

* * * *

Rothsburgh groaned against Beth’s mouth.

Yes.
At last.
Thank God and
all his angels.
Elation and desire flared inside him in equal
measure. But hearing it once wasn’t enough.

He leant his forehead against hers. “Say it
again,” he demanded thickly, fighting back tears.

“I love you, James,” she murmured huskily, a
smile like the warmest sunshine in her voice as she wrapped her
arms around his neck. Drew him closer until their noses touched and
their breath mingled. “I love you.”

He must have died and gone to heaven. He
exhaled on a great shuddering sigh and placed his hand at the base
of her throat, feeling the rise and fall of her chest, the frantic
beating of her heart that echoed the thunder of his. “And you’ll
stay with me?”

She didn’t hesitate to answer now. “Yes. I’m
yours.”

“Truly?”

“Yes,” She reached for his cheek and touched
his tears with trembling fingers. “Oh James…”

“I love you, Beth.”

* * * *

For the first time ever, Elizabeth allowed
herself to feel the full force of James’s words, to let the idea of
‘I love you’ and everything that meant, penetrate her being. It was
like being suffused with the purest delight, the essence of joy
itself.

And it was all because of James. This
powerful, charismatic, beautiful man who rested his head against
hers and cried his joy simply because she’d told him she loved him
in return. Tears welled in her eyes. It was almost too much
happiness for her to bear.

“Kiss me,” she whispered on a tremulous
breath.

James drew back a little and his wide mouth
tilted into a gentle, lop-sided smile. “With pleasure, my
love.”

One of his hands shifted to the nape of her
neck whilst the other curled gently around her shoulder, pulling
her closer as he ever so slowly angled his head lower, and then
covered her mouth with his. His lips slid against hers, satiny
soft, as gentle as spring rain, and she sagged against him,
boneless and melting as a sweet warmth like slowly flowing honey
spread throughout her entire body.

Her lips curved into a smile beneath his as
she realized that this was what truly being in love felt like.

But this tender melding of mouths was soon
not enough. Elizabeth could sense the rising heat and tension in
James’s body—in the way his lips firmed against hers, how the
muscles of his shoulders tightened beneath her hands, the increased
pace of his breathing. James’s tongue teasingly flicked against her
bottom lip and with a moan, she opened her mouth for him. He
responded with his own deep, throaty sound of satisfaction before
boldly stroking his tongue against hers, tasting her mouth with a
thoroughness that made her nipples ache and moisture well at the
apex of her thighs.

Hard to believe that moments ago she had
been contemplating a life without James, a life without these
intoxicating kisses that so effortlessly aroused her. A life
without this extraordinary bliss. It was unthinkable. She must have
been mad.

Ignoring the protest of her cut hands, she
buried her fingers into the silky blackness of his hair at the back
of his head, dragging him closer, at the same time that she
restlessly crushed her breasts against the hot hard wall of his
chest, greedily seeking more of the feel and taste of him, this
infinitely addictive man.

She broke the kiss. “You are wearing far too
many clothes,” she breathed raggedly, tugging futilely at his
coat.

“Agreed,” he growled. “As are you, my
sweet.” He hooked his hand into the opening of her nightrail, and
ignoring her gasp, rent the flannel from neckline to waist. “I
really hate this thing you know,” he said with a hint of satisfied
amusement lurking beneath the huskiness of his voice. “I’ve been
dying to do that since I walked in.”

“Is it really that dreadful?” she asked with
mock indignation even as excitement spiked within her, making her
nipples peak and her sex throb with anticipation.

“Yes. You know it is. Now lie back so I can
rip the rest off you.”

She eagerly acquiesced to his demand,
pushing herself back into the lumpy narrow mattress before James
used both hands, to swiftly tear the rest of the offending garment
in two.