Page 80 of The Chef and the Countess

“Did I ask for too much? I figured the amount would equal the dowry I should have had from my uncle and a stipend from my late husband.”

“Honestly? You should have asked for more.”

Celia laughed lightly, and the pleasant sound reminded him of trickling water in a fountain. Then she sobered. “I do not like leaving things unsaid or unresolved. On the day my parents died, I never told them I loved them. And I did every day before that. But not that day. Instead, I’d acted hurt and disappointed that they were not taking me on the boat trip. It never entered my ten-year-old mind that my parents wanted to be alone. I did not throw a tantrum. It wasn’t my way, then or now. I just wish I’d told them I loved them.’”

“You had no way of knowing their fate,” Liam said.

“No, but I swore I would never hold back again.” Celia met his gaze. “I do not regret telling you how I feel because it is the truth. Why can’t you say you love me in return? Unless you do not feel that way toward me.”

Her frankness was admirable; he envied Celia’s ability to verbalize how she felt aloud. If only he possessed the intestinal fortitude to do the same. He should at least attempt it.

“I’m a brooding bastard, in more ways than one. I always believed that I didn’t deserve love. I also don’t want you to give up your chance at joining society. You deserve every good thing. You’re beautiful inside and out and too good—for the likes of me.”

“Liam, don’t ever say that. Everyone is entitled to love. I have yearned for that ever since my parents passed away. I did not find it at my aunt’s home, and while I discovered the warm camaraderie of friendship with Corrine and Selena, fate pulled us apart. Perhaps it’s my lot in life to be alone.”

“Everyone here cares for you,” Liam said gruffly. “Very much.”

“Including you?” He nodded in response. “As I said earlier, I know you care. You have from the first. I came to that conclusion swiftly. You gave me shelter and a job. You made me a special chicken dinner and a full breakfast when I was ill, as well as the flummery dessert. You sent telegraphs on my behalf. You took a loss on the gambling debt for my aunt’s address and a small settlement. You ended your affair two days after meeting me. Why?”

“I told her that I’d met someone who caught my interest,” Liam croaked, his voice laced with emotion.

“Most importantly, you kissed me. More than once. Passionately.”

Liam’s heart thundered in his ears. “Ask me the question again.”

“Which one? Oh, ‘including me?’ That one?” she asked softly.

“Aye, that one. Most especially, including you. I’ve become so anxious, I don’t know what to do. What could any lady, a countess no less, want with a cook from an East End eatery, the by-blow of a notorious duke? A man who has been lonely for so long that he forgot how to feel. A man so incapable of recognizing emotion that he failed to comprehend he had a family right under his nose, including a son?” Liam paused, his vulnerabilities laid open.

“You opened my heart and allowed me even to consider that I was worth loving after all,” he continued. “I didn’t know it until you came into my life like a breath of fresh air. You gave me the strength to take a chance—on love.” He stood. “God, how I love you,” Liam rasped. “You are—life. Everything. I want you—in my arms, by my side, in my bed, and in my kitchen.”

Celia clapped her hands together and laughed joyously. Her eyes shimmered with tears. He had come this far, so he might as well go all in.

“Marry me, Celia. Make my happiness an everlasting reality. Make me whole. For I cannot live without you.”

Celia jumped to her feet and ran into his arms. “Yes, Chef!”

Liam laughed, long and loud. His joy was unfettered at last. He spun her around, holding her close.

Celia laid frantic kisses across his whiskered chin. “I love you, Liam. So very much. I think I have from the first. It appears I find grumpy men attractive. I suspected that your sullenness was a protective shell. I knew that a passionate man lay hidden within.” She pulled back and caught his gaze. “Make love to me.”

“Here? Now?”

“Yes. Take me to bed. Your bed.”