The Widow Wager (31 page)

Crispin’s breath eased out of him in a shuddering burst and he struggled to find words.

“Just start at the beginning,” Rafe said, his tone kind.

Crispin struggled, but somehow he found the words. He spoke for nearly forty-five minutes, spilling his heart about every secret he’d kept from Rafe. About meeting Alice, believing he loved her and she him, her marriage, her death and the violent, destructive thoughts that had plagued him in the months since. When he finally stopped speaking, his brother leaned forward and took the bottle Crispin had left untouched. Rafe uncorked the bottle before he took a long drink.

“It is quite a story,” Rafe said. “Worse than what Gemma told. She obviously tried to protect you…and us.”

He thought of Gemma’s giving spirit. Her need to save everyone else around her. “That would be like her.”

Rafe smiled, but it wavered almost immediately. “Why didn’t you talk to me before this, Cris?”

Crispin got to his feet and paced to the fire. He stared into the flames as he tried to find the answer. “At first, I couldn’t believe I was being seduced by the charms of a lady, of all things. Once I discovered she was engaged, I think I didn’t tell you to protect her reputation. By the time she had married, you were knee-deep in your inheritance of your dukedom, in your own situation with Serafina. I didn’t want to lay it at your feet.”

“And?” Rafe asked softly.

Crispin turned, smiling even though his heart hurt. His brother knew him too well. “And a part of me hated you, even as I tried to help you win Serafina, for having what I believed had been stolen from me. Once Alice was dead…well, I was no use to anyone. I wanted to punish myself.”

“You certainly did that,” Rafe said with a shake of his head. “Almost to your own death.”

“And yet it now turns out that everything I built my love and guilt around was nothing more than a lie.” Crispin faced the fire again and the anger in his chest burned even hotter than the logs before him. “And perhaps part of me knew that. Maybe I reacted so strongly to Gemma pointing out the unfairness of Alice’s behavior because I already knew she was untrue. But to admit that meant admitting I was…wrong. So wrong.”

His brother was silent for a few moments, allowing Crispin his reflection on the past. Then he cleared his throat. “Do you love Gemma?”

Crispin stiffened. That was the question he had been trying not to answer for weeks. To have it asked now, in this moment, was like a kick to the gut. He faced Rafe with a frown.

“We’re talking about Alice,” he said.

“No. We
were
talking about your past. Now let’s talk about your future. Do you love her?”

Crispin stared at Rafe. Despite their difficult beginning, he knew Rafe adored Serafina with a dedication and passion he never would have thought his brother capable of. And she felt as strongly about him. Their love was obvious. But his…he didn’t know what it was. Especially now when he feared he couldn’t trust himself to know his own heart.

“How do you know?” he asked.

Rafe stood. “When you want her happiness more than your own. When you would
die
to give it to her. And before you died, you would only want to see her face. But you also want to
live
for her. To create a future. A life. A family. A home. To see her through her darkest times and celebrate her best. And she’s the only one who you want by your side at your own darkest and best times.
That
is love, Crispin.”

He shut his eyes. Rafe was describing exactly how he felt about Gemma. In so short a time, she had so fully inserted herself in everything that mattered to him and he wanted her there. Forever.

“I love her,” he managed to choke out, the words seeming thick and heavy on his lips.

“Of course you do,” Rafe said with a laugh. “But if you don’t say it and
show it
soon, you will lose her. And I think you have lost more than enough already.” His brother moved on him. “Go home. To your
wife
.”

Crispin nodded as he reached out to clap Rafe’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

Gemma sat on the bed she had shared with Crispin for such a short time, yet it felt like home being here in the space. Still, she was watching the dismantling of this home as she watched Kate slowly pack her things. The maid would look up at her from time to time, questions in her eyes.

But they weren’t questions Gemma could answer. Not to her servant. Not to herself.

The door behind them opened and Gemma slid from the bed to her shaking feet as Crispin stepped inside. He looked disheveled, tired, raw in a way she’d never seen before. He stared at her for a long, charged moment, before his attention was caught by her trunks and Kate’s presence in the room.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

She took a step toward him and immediately regretted it. It was silly, but she felt like she could feel his body heat, even from so far away.

“I-I—” she began, trying to find the words.

He turned to her maid. “Kate, please leave.” Kate looked at Gemma, but he raised a hand and pointed to the door. “Don’t look at her, just step out. Go downstairs and eat something. Please.”

Kate ducked her head and all but ran from the room, leaving Gemma alone with her fate. Crispin looked at her another moment before he stepped back and closed and locked the door in one smooth motion. He dropped the key in his pocket and turned toward her once more.

“Where is everyone else?” he asked, changing the subject. “My sister and mother and Serafina?”

She shook her head. He must have gone to Rafe’s home, for he was the only one who knew the entire family had come to sit and wait with her, offering their comforting platitudes about love. Except Crispin didn’t love her. And the more she thought of it, the more oppressive their company had become.

“I managed to convince them that I could be left on my own,” she whispered. “And finally got Mary to believe I didn’t need her to stay with me.”

“And then you came up to our bedroom. And what are you doing?” He repeated his first question, and there was a strain to his voice that she had never heard before.

She turned away. There was no hiding now, but at least she wouldn’t have to look at him when she said the next thing. “I-I went too far.” Her voice broke and she swiped at the tear that tried to wend its way down her already tear-streaked cheeks. “I went too far. I pushed you and—”

“I want to be pushed,” he interrupted her.

She spun around and found that he had taken two steps toward her. He wasn’t yet touching her, but if he reached out his hand, he could. And now she truly
could
feel his body heat.

“What?”

“I
needed
to be pushed,” he said. “And I don’t want you to go.”

That sentence was like a gunshot to her chest, and Gemma staggered. Everything in her told her to launch herself into his arms and make love to him. If she touched him, she knew he would let her. And they could pretend this hadn’t happened, perhaps. Go back to how it was.

But there was one thing she’d learned in the past few hours while she waited for him. The way it was…wasn’t enough.

“You told me that when Alice offered to be your lover, you told her you couldn’t.”

He jolted. “This isn’t about her.”

“But I can’t do the same with you,” she finished.

He shook his head. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t be your lover, Crispin.”

He reached for her and she shivered as his fingers brushed her cheek. “You are my wife,” he reminded her.

“I am not your wife because you chose me,” she said. “We were forced into this circumstance, and the most you have been able to do is make me your mistress. I am your mistress with your name, Crispin. And I can’t be that.”

“Then don’t.”

She tilted her head, uncertain if he meant that she could be more or that she was right to end things between them. But before she could ask, he shocked her by falling to his knees.

“Let me love you, Gemma Flynn. Let me start over.”

Her lips parted and she could hardly breathe as he reached to take her hand and drew her closer. She stared down at him. “What?”

“I love you,” he said, his voice shaking with emotion. “I have tried to pretend it wasn’t happening, out of guilt and self-loathing. But you broke the lock I’ve tried to keep around myself, Gemma.
You
were the key. And not just today when you gave me my freedom from my guilt over Alice. But before that. Since I found you in my bed and discovered you were my wife, you have been setting me free bit by bit. I
love
you.”

She was dreaming. That was all there was to it. She’d fallen asleep and now this very vivid dream was offering her everything she’d ever wanted.

“You are shaking your head,” he said, still not rising from his place before her. “Does that mean you don’t love me anymore? Did I wait too long?”

She made a pained sound from the very pit of her soul and clasped his hand with both of hers. “I do, I do love you,” she said.

His face lit up with happiness. True happiness. Real happiness. Something she’d never seen in his eyes before. And he looked younger and even more handsome than he had ever been. So handsome she nearly dropped down to the floor with him to kiss him.

“Please be my wife,” he asked.

She blinked. “I am your wife,” she said with a laugh.

He shook his head. “No, you misunderstand.
Be
my wife. Let me
be
your husband. In truth. By choice. In every way. For now and for always. Please, please, Gemma. Say that you’ll stay with me.”

She stared at him. “You—you mean it,” she whispered.

He nodded. “I mean it, Gemma. I truly do.”

She slid down to her knees with him and cupped his face. Here was this man. This beautiful, complicated, everything man. And he loved her. Wanted her. Despite their beginning, despite all that had kept them apart since it. He loved her. And she so desperately loved him.

“Yes,” she whispered as she stroked a tear from his cheek with a smile. “Yes, I’ll stay with you. And build our life with you. And I will love you until the day I die.”

He let out a cry of happiness and dragged her against him, joining their lips with the same hunger that every kiss contained. But this one was different. This one connected them as they had never allowed themselves to be connected before. And as he lowered her back on the carpet, his kisses growing deeper and more purposeful, she knew for the first time that her future was going to be everything she’d ever dreamed of.

“Little Crispin is already picking up bad habits from Big Crispin,” Serafina teased as she entered the room, and Crispin stopped kissing his wife.

All heads swiveled to the baby, who was now sitting up by himself at the table. As if on cue, Little Crispin laughed and the table erupted with more of the same.

“I think it’s a good thing if he sees such love in his midst,” Rafe said, catching his wife and dragging her into his lap before he dipped her back and kissed her just as passionately as Crispin had kissed Gemma.

Marcus and Annabelle looked at each other, shrugged and also joined in before their mother waved her napkin at them all. “Stop it now! Not only are you embarrassing poor Mary, but the food is getting cold.”

Once again the table filled with laughter and talking as the rest fell into raucous conversation. Gemma leaned forward to join in the talk, but Crispin caught her arm before she could and drew her attention back where he liked it best. On him. Her gray eyes lit up with love, just as they had been for three months.

“Do you know my secret?”

She smiled. “I know all your secrets, don’t I?”

He shook his head. “Mama would say not. So would Rafe. Though you know most. But this is a
new
secret.”

She was laughing now and leaned in, her soft scent filling his nostrils, her warm touch tangling through every cold part of him. “What is your new secret?”

“I love you more each and every day,” he whispered, close to her ear.

She swatted his leg gently. “It is a secret we share, then,” she murmured. “For I feel the same way. But I have one of my own.”