Page 57 of Fair as a Star

Her expression softened with rueful tenderness. “I love you, Mark. I’ve always loved you. But I didn’t realize until I came home from Paris that it was something even more than that.”

He swallowed hard. “What could be more?”

“I fell in love with you.” She reached to cup his cheek, cradling his face in the palm of her slim hand. “I’m in love with you.”

His voice went hoarse with emotion. “You never let on.”

“I didn’t know it myself. It happened so gradually. Somewhere between that first letter you wrote to me and the day I came to your office. The day you gave me that journal. I was never so aware of you as I was then. And then…when you kissed me.” The pad of her thumb brushed over his cheekbone in a fleeting caress. “But you must have felt it, too.”

“I did. All of it. All of those feelings.” He covered her hand with his. “I’m in love with you something fierce.”

A spasm of emotion crossed over her face. Her body listed toward him. A subtle movement, hardly discernable, but one he couldn’t ignore. Drawing her hand from his cheek, he pressed a kiss to her palm, and another to her wrist. And then he gathered her in his arms.

Her own arms wound tight around his neck, her skirts billowing over his legs in a sea of faded cotton and crinoline. She clung to him. And when his lips found hers, she kissed him back. Softly, deeply. Kissed him and kissed him, with a yielding sweetness that swiftly robbed him of his senses.

He buried his face in the curve of her neck. She smelled of sunshine and elderflowers. Of summer days under a clear blue sky. “How I’ve wanted this.”

“What have you wanted?” Her breath was a teasing whisper against his ear.

“This.” He kissed her again, feeling her fingers tangle in his hair. “And this.” His lips brushed the satiny slope of her cheek, and the smooth curve of her brow. “I’ve wanted you. Longed for you. A day hasn’t passed that I haven’t dreamed of taking you in my arms. Of kissing you here. And here.”

“Mark.”

The breathless sound of his name on her lips was nearly his undoing. His cheek came to rest against hers. “I’m desperate for you,” he confessed. “Afraid that any moment Venable is going to come and wake me.”

“You think this is another dream?”

He huffed a laugh. “If it is, it’s better than any I’ve ever had.”

She slowly drew back, her hands sliding from his shoulders to rest on his chest. “I’m not a dream. I’m all too human.”

Mark gazed down at her. He wanted to kiss her again. To hold her. To stay with her here forever. A lifetime wouldn’t be long enough. “You, my dear Miss Burnham, are my golden girl.”

“I mean it, Mark. I’m not perfect. If you put me on a pedestal, you’ll only be disappointed. You above all people should know that.”

He smoothed her hair. “What’s this about?”

“I don’t want you to have false expectations. You’ve seen me at my worst. You know how bad it can be.”

“I love you, Beryl.” It was so much an understatement it felt like a lie. Love was too simple a word for what he felt for her. He could never fully express it, this emotion so powerful and precious. It was as elemental as fire. As enduring as the stones that formed the bed of the Worthy. “I love you for everything that you are. The dark and the light.”

Her eyes glistened. “Sometimes, I fear that the darkness may eclipse the light entirely.”

“Well, then.” He smiled. “It’s lucky you’ll have me at your side, an oil lamp at the ready.”

Her mouth trembled on a reluctant smile. “It will have to be a very powerful one.”

“Light is always more powerful than darkness.”

“That’s the clergyman in you talking.”

Mark couldn’t deny it. His faith was as much a part of him as his love for her. “I can’t make the melancholy go away. You know that as well as I. But I promise to be there for you when it comes. To hold you in my arms. To read Dickens to you and make you laugh.” His hand moved over the curve of her spine. “I’ll be with you. You’ll never again have to face this demon alone.”

She settled back against him, reassured by his touch. “I wish you could be with me always.”

“I can.” He rested his chin atop her head. “If we—”

“Don’t speak of it,” she said softly. “Not yet.”