that had once kept them apart were now bringing the together. She knew the bond they shared could be strained, but never broken. And most importantly, she knew that…
“I love you,” she said fiercely.
“Oh Cat,” he sighed.
A giddy laugh escaped her as he plucked her up in his arms and spun her around. When he set her back down on her feet he kept her cradled against his chest and the words he whispered in her ear brought even more tears, but these were tears of happiness, not grief, and the smile that captured her mouth could have rivaled the sun on the brightest of days.
“I loved you yesterday, today, and I shall love you for every tomorrow. You are my heart, my soul, my very reason for being,” he finished simply.
“Truly?” she asked, winding her arms around his neck.
He gazed down tenderly into her upturned face, and ever so softly touched her mouth with his. “Truly. Now pack your things. No child of mine is going to be born anywhere but Kensington. And you had best get used to being there wife, for I fear London does not suit me at all.”
Biting back a laugh, Catherine traced a fingertip down the side of his face and played idly with a dark curl. “How do you know it does not suit you? I think it is a rather wonderful place,” she said, lowering her lashes to disguise the mischief in her eyes. More than anything she yearned to return to the quiet peacefulness of Kensington, but Catherine would not be Catherine if she gave in too easily.
“Because I have been here nigh on a month!” Marcus said. “I have attended every bloody ball, spent half my fortune on charities, and sat through more boring tea parties than I can count.”
“You have?” Catherine asked in surprise. Sudden apprehension flashed across her face as she considered why her husband had been in London for so long without coming to see her. Surely he had not brought a mistress with him?
Seeing her expression, Marcus captured her hand and brought her knuckles to his lips. “I was looking for you , darling,” he said, exasperated.
“Then you… left your mistress in the country?” she asked hesitantly.
“I never had, nor will I ever have, a mistress. You are the only woman for me, Lady Kensington.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Then why didn’t you come here first when you came to London ?”
“Because I am a stubborn, foolish man,” he admitted with a wry smile. “Who wanted a chance encounter with his wife instead of coming to her home and begging her forgiveness on his knees. ”
One blond eyebrow arched. “You did not get on your knees,” she pointed out, disguising her grin with a raised hand.
“For the love of… Ah, Cat, we are going to drive each other mad.”
“And then some,” she agreed. “Do you remember what we used to do after we fought?” she asked coyly, lashes fluttering.
The sudden hardness against her thigh told her Marcus did remember. She shrieked with delight when he swept her up in his arms to take the stairs two at a time and smiled into the crook of his shoulder.
Finally, her husband had come home.
Epilogue
“He looks like he is going to faint, doesn’t he Grace?” Grinning ear to ear, Josephine sat up from the willow backed settee she had been lounging on and glanced across the parlor to where her beloved friend’s husband Marcus was pacing a hole in a rather lovely Persian rug.
“He does look a bit pale,” Grace agreed. Perched on the edge of a windowsill across the room, she was desperately trying to stay cool by fanning herself. It was only May, but the temperature was unusually warm for spring. Smothering a yawn with the back of her hand, she slouched against the window and pressed the side of her face against one of the glass panes. It offered little respite from the stuffiness of the room and she struggled to open the window. “Jo, do come here and help me.”
Rolling her eyes, Josephine stood and crossed the room in three graceful strides. She
“I love you,” she said fiercely.
“Oh Cat,” he sighed.
A giddy laugh escaped her as he plucked her up in his arms and spun her around. When he set her back down on her feet he kept her cradled against his chest and the words he whispered in her ear brought even more tears, but these were tears of happiness, not grief, and the smile that captured her mouth could have rivaled the sun on the brightest of days.
“I loved you yesterday, today, and I shall love you for every tomorrow. You are my heart, my soul, my very reason for being,” he finished simply.
“Truly?” she asked, winding her arms around his neck.
He gazed down tenderly into her upturned face, and ever so softly touched her mouth with his. “Truly. Now pack your things. No child of mine is going to be born anywhere but Kensington. And you had best get used to being there wife, for I fear London does not suit me at all.”
Biting back a laugh, Catherine traced a fingertip down the side of his face and played idly with a dark curl. “How do you know it does not suit you? I think it is a rather wonderful place,” she said, lowering her lashes to disguise the mischief in her eyes. More than anything she yearned to return to the quiet peacefulness of Kensington, but Catherine would not be Catherine if she gave in too easily.
“Because I have been here nigh on a month!” Marcus said. “I have attended every bloody ball, spent half my fortune on charities, and sat through more boring tea parties than I can count.”
“You have?” Catherine asked in surprise. Sudden apprehension flashed across her face as she considered why her husband had been in London for so long without coming to see her. Surely he had not brought a mistress with him?
Seeing her expression, Marcus captured her hand and brought her knuckles to his lips. “I was looking for you , darling,” he said, exasperated.
“Then you… left your mistress in the country?” she asked hesitantly.
“I never had, nor will I ever have, a mistress. You are the only woman for me, Lady Kensington.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Then why didn’t you come here first when you came to London ?”
“Because I am a stubborn, foolish man,” he admitted with a wry smile. “Who wanted a chance encounter with his wife instead of coming to her home and begging her forgiveness on his knees. ”
One blond eyebrow arched. “You did not get on your knees,” she pointed out, disguising her grin with a raised hand.
“For the love of… Ah, Cat, we are going to drive each other mad.”
“And then some,” she agreed. “Do you remember what we used to do after we fought?” she asked coyly, lashes fluttering.
The sudden hardness against her thigh told her Marcus did remember. She shrieked with delight when he swept her up in his arms to take the stairs two at a time and smiled into the crook of his shoulder.
Finally, her husband had come home.
Epilogue
“He looks like he is going to faint, doesn’t he Grace?” Grinning ear to ear, Josephine sat up from the willow backed settee she had been lounging on and glanced across the parlor to where her beloved friend’s husband Marcus was pacing a hole in a rather lovely Persian rug.
“He does look a bit pale,” Grace agreed. Perched on the edge of a windowsill across the room, she was desperately trying to stay cool by fanning herself. It was only May, but the temperature was unusually warm for spring. Smothering a yawn with the back of her hand, she slouched against the window and pressed the side of her face against one of the glass panes. It offered little respite from the stuffiness of the room and she struggled to open the window. “Jo, do come here and help me.”
Rolling her eyes, Josephine stood and crossed the room in three graceful strides. She
Similar Books
