Sylvia Day - Passion for Him

“Yes, we did.”

“Did he not win? Did you not say he was the better man? Dear God, am I losing my mind?”

“Yes, yes, and no.” Colin tightened the arm banded around her waist and pulled her closer. “I allowed him first blood,” he explained. “He had a right to it. When I took you, you were still his.”

Amelia opened her mouth to protest, and he covered her lips with his fingertips. “Allow me to finish.”

She stared at him for a long moment, absorbing the sudden gravity reflected on his countenance. Then she nodded and slipped free of his embrace, moving to the opposite squab so that she could think properly.

It was then she noted that she was dressed in her night rail. For his part, Colin was beautifully attired in a velvet ensemble of dark green. She still encountered difficulty correlating the Colin before her with the Colin of old, but she had no difficulty loving him, regardless. The sight of him filled her with pleasure, just as it always had.

“There is no point in denying that Ware can offer you things that I cannot,” Colin said, his dark eyes watching her with a mixture of love and determination. “That is what you overheard this morning. However, I have come to realize that I don’t care.”

“You don’t?” Amelia’s hand went to her fluttering stomach.

“No, I don’t.” He crossed his arms, revealing the powerful muscles she found endlessly arousing. “I love you. I want you. I intend to have you. Every other consideration be damned.”

“Colin-”

“I’ve stolen you, Amelia. Run away with you, just as I have always wanted to do.” He smiled again. “Within a fortnight, you and I will be husband and wife.”

“Do I have no say in the matter?”

“You can say ‘yes’ if you like. Otherwise, you have no say.”

Amelia laughed even as tears fell.

Colin leaned forward and set his elbows on his knees. “Tell me those are happy tears.”

“Colin…” She gave a shaky sigh. “How can I say yes? Discarding Ware so callously for my own pleasure is exactly the sort of behavior my father excelled at. I could not live with myself if I acted so selfishly. Perhaps I would even grow to resent you for tempting me into such reckless deportment.”

“Amelia.” He straightened. “If I tell you that Ware would want nothing more than your happiness, it might alleviate your concern and goad your agreement, but that is not what I want.”

She frowned.

“Yes, we are acting impetuously,” he continued. “Yes, we are seizing the day and our love without a care for the world. That is who we are. That is our affinity. You and I are not ones to restrain our joys.”

“People cannot live in that manner.”

“Yes, they can. As long as doing so brings no pain to others.” His voice grew more impassioned, arresting her. “Ware does not love you, not as I do. And you do not love him. I also suspect that you do not love yourself, not as you should. You accused me of molding myself into someone I am not, yet you are guilty of the same offense. You seek to mold yourself into a woman of decorum and duty, but that is not who you are! Do not be ashamed of the facets of you that I love so much.”

“Welton was an awful man,” she cried. “I cannot be like him.”

“You never could be.” Colin caught up her hands. “You are filled with love for life and family. Your father was filled with love only for himself. Two very different things.”

“Ware…”

“Ware knows what I am doing. He could stop us if he wishes, but he won’t. Regardless, I am altering myself to have you. I am taking this day and you, and forsaking all of the rest. It is frightening, yes. We will both have to leave the cages we created for ourselves and venture into the unknown. But we will have each other.”

Cages. She had been caged for so long, one part of her hating the restrictions, the other part grateful that they restrained her from being too much like Welton. “You know me so well,” she whispered.

“Yes, I know you better than anyone. You told me to believe that I was worthy of you. Now it is your turn to believe that you are worthy of me. Trust that you are free from whatever defect of character your father suffered. Trust that I am smart enough to love a wonderful woman.”

He pressed his lips to her knuckles. “Make the leap with me, Amelia. I am holding on to our love with both hands, despite all the reasons why I shouldn’t. Do the same. Embrace your wild nature and run with me. Be free with me. We shall all be happier for it.”

She gazed at him for a long moment, her vision blurring with tears. Then she threw herself into his arms.

“Yes,” she whispered with her cheek pressed to his. “Let’s be free.”

Christopher, Simon, and Ware were engrossed in a discussion when Maria burst into the room with her skirts held in one hand and a missive in the other.

All three men rose immediately. Christopher and Simon both stepped toward her with frowns marring their handsome features. Ware merely raised his brows.

“I found this atop Amelia’s pillow! Mitchell has absconded with her.”

Simon blinked. “Beg your pardon?”

“Truly?” Christopher smiled.

“He says he intends to marry her.” She glanced down at the note to read it again. “They are already headed north.”

“We must hurry or we will miss the nuptials,” Ware said.

“You knew?” Maria stared at him with wide eyes.

“I hoped,” he corrected. “I am pleased to see the man has come to his senses.”

Maria opened her mouth, then shut it again.

“Well, let’s not dally,” Christopher said, catching her elbow and spinning her back around toward the door. “We have packing to see to. Tim can guard Mademoiselle Rousseau and Jacques while we are absent.”

“North,” Simon muttered. “May I ride in your carriage, my lord?”

“Certainly.”

Still finding it difficult to believe, Maria glanced over her shoulder at Ware.

“This is a happy occasion, Mrs. St. John,” he drawled, following directly behind them. “You should be smiling as I am.”

“Yes, my lord.”

She looked at Christopher, who nodded. With that, she shrugged and laughed aloud. Then she lifted her skirts and raced her husband up the stairs.

“We set sail in a few hours,” Quinn said, fingering a coined tassel on a multicolored pillow. “My trunks and valet are aboard, and Lysette is safely restrained in my cabin.”

They sat in the family parlor of Colin’s new town house in London. It was a large room, beautifully decorated in shades of soft blue and gold. Around the room, Amelia had added colorful touches of his heritage-pillows encased in glorious scarves, small carved figurines, and bowls of Romany trinkets given to them by Pietro as wedding gifts. The style was unfashionable and would be considered horrifyingly gauche by many, but they both loved the space and spent a great deal of time curled up together there.

Embrace who you are , she had said, with a new confidence that aroused him unbearably. She, too, was embracing the reckless side of herself that she had fought to contain for so long. Fears of becoming too much like her father were banished, just as Colin’s fear of being unworthy of her no longer had power to dictate his actions.

Colin leaned back in his chair and asked Quinn, “Did the French agree to release your men in a trade for the return of Mademoiselle Rousseau and Cartland?”

“And Jacques. They want him, too. But I am only taking Lysette with me for now. They can have the other two back after I am certain they will honor their end of the agreement.”

“I do not envy you that trip,” Colin said, wincing. “I cannot imagine Mademoiselle Rousseau makes a very good prisoner.”