Page 124 of The Matrimonial Advertisement

“I love whatever kind of man you are.”

He gave her an arrested look. “What did you say?”

“I said that I love you, exactly as you are.” A warm blush flooded her cheeks. She couldn’t tell in what spirit he was receiving her declaration. He appeared dumbstruck, gazing down at her as if she’d just said something to him in an as-yet-undiscovered language. “I realized it in London,” she continued determinedly. “Indeed, I almost told you after that dreadful comedietta. It’s the last secret I’ve been keeping from you.” She set her hands against his chest. “I give it to you now with all my heart.”

She loved him.

Justin stared down at Helena’s face, his gaze tracing over every contour. The sweep of her mahogany brows, the creamy curve of her cheekbones, and the bow of her rose-colored lips. He must have misheard her. Perhaps he was drunk? Either that or hallucinating. Indeed, her very presence—here at the inn, garbed in the same dress she’d worn the day they’d met—had a dreamlike quality. As if she’d been conjured by his fevered imagination. She didn’t seem quite real. And yet…

He could smell the delicate jasmine in her perfume and the light starch in her petticoats. Could feel the weight and warmth of her slim hands as they rested on his chest. He’d thought himself resigned to never seeing her again. To continuing his life without her. But one look—one touch—and the feelings rushed back again, stinging at his eyes and clenching in his chest.

Good God, she loved him.

He covered her hands with his own. “Helena…I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s easy. Say that you love me, too.”

He bowed his head, his forehead coming to rest against hers. “Of course I love you,” he said, his voice a husky growl. “Why in blazes do you think I let you go?”

A choked laugh escaped her. It sounded a little like a sob. “What tortured logic is this?”

“It’s your logic.”

“Mine?”

He tightened his grip on her hands. “You told me that if you loved someone, you’d sacrifice anything to make them happy.”

“Is that what you’ve done? Made a sacrifice of your love for me?” She returned the warm clasp of his fingers. “My dear, how in the world could you ever think I’d be happy without you?”

My dear. His heart turned over. But he couldn’t allow himself to be distracted. Not now. He had to maintain some semblance of control. “I’m no gentleman, Helena, and King’s Abbott is a fair way from the glitter of London. You deserve better. You should be with someone of your own kind.”

“I’m not an exotic bird, Justin. I’m a woman.”

“You’re a lady. And I’d be the most self-centered bastard alive to keep you here with me.”

Helena drew back from him with a sigh. “I suspected it was something of that nature.”

“Then you understand why I had to give you up.”

“You’re not giving me up,” she said. “Or, rather, I’m not giving you up.”

He searched her face, his heart thudding with something very like hope. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that self-sacrifice is all well and good, but unlike you, when it comes to our marriage, I intend to be selfish.” She rose up on the toes of her half boots, reaching to slide her arms around his neck. She looked him very steadily in the eye. “You’re mine, Justin Thornhill. It doesn’t matter where you came from or who your parents were. All that matters is that you belong to me…and I belong to you.”

The last of his resolve crumbled to dust. “Yes,” he vowed. “Yes. Always.” And then he swept her up in his arms and kissed her.

Helena clung to his neck as his mouth moved on hers, returning his kiss in full measure. She was sweet and soft—and fiercely passionate. She held nothing of herself back.

And neither did he.

He kissed her deeply. Thoroughly. Heedless of all propriety. She arched against him, warm and feminine. Her heavy skirts were crushed out of shape against his legs, the hard bones of her corset stiff and unyielding beneath the spread of his hand at her waist. His other hand cradled the back of her head. He vaguely registered the sound of metal pins pinging on the parlor floor as his fingers speared through her fashionably rolled coiffure.

“You’re disarranging me awfully,” she breathed.

“Shall I stop?”

“No.” She pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. “Don’t dare.” And then another. “I’ve missed you so much.”