Page 65 of Lord of Loyalty

Chapter Thirty-Six

Isobel was too stunned to breathe. Then the air rushed back into her lungs, and her breast rose and fell with alarming rapidity. Could they marry? What of the Mathiesons’ threat to besmirch Will’s name through exposing his activities with Leicester? And even if that plot failed, a besotted woman like Paulina would think of some other nefarious plan to tie herself to Will.

Then there was the issue of her own financial independence. Her legacy would become her husband’s as soon as she wed. Would she have to give up Marston House? If Leicester were to be exonerated, Will would want to go to court. Did she have the confidence to go with him, or would everyone laugh at her for being gulled by her cousin?

Will held her firmly, giving her a little shake. “You’re not going to deny me now, I hope, or I shall have to kiss you mercilessly until you capitulate.”

She scanned his face and was arrested by what she saw there. His eyes were deep pools of desire, of need.

“You want to marry me?”

He held her more tightly. “Haven’t I made it clear enough? I’ve loved you for a long time, sweet Isobel. It seems like forever. Only my desire not to clip your wings has stopped me declaring myself. Well, that, and a few impediments, like the fact you kept disappearing, and Pike was after my blood. But none of that matters now.”

He leaned in and subjected her to an assault of kisses. Like the soldier he was, Will was storming the bastion of her heart—and her surrender was not far off. When it came, she knew it would be complete—there would be no turning back.

She wriggled in his grasp, tearing her lips from his. “But what of your reputation? Aren’t you afraid that Master Mathieson—”

“Hush, my dove.” Will bent his neck and nuzzled her cheek. “It is of no matter to me, so long as I have you. My honor may remain untainted yet. I can’t say the same for Mathieson since Paulina has run off with the Comte de Velors.”

She pushed away from him. “What? When did this happen?” How could he not have told her? She’d been so anxious.

“About a sennight since. Maybury offered to help recover her. I had other things on my mind.”

Her hands clutched the front of his doublet as elation soared through her. Sir William Cavendish was—to all intents and purposes—hers for the taking. Unfortunately, this revelation had stolen her voice. She could do little more than stare at him.

“I’ve come so close to losing you, Isobel. Had I not found you in time, I’d have lost the greater part of myself. I will do whatever it takes to make you happy.”

He kissed her lightly on the forehead, then nudged at her cheek. “Every man has his pride. Before mine is destroyed utterly, will you not favor me with an answer?”

Her whole being wanted to cry out “Yes! Yes!” but she schooled herself to caution. Every woman was entitled to a little thinking time in such circumstances.

“I’ll give you my answer on the morrow. I’m almost certain it will be favorable, but your declaration, after the excitement of today, has overset me. I think it would be only fair to us both if I were to—”

“Sleep on it?” Will suggested.

She felt a wave of color swamp her cheeks. That image of Will stark naked was back again, a pox upon it!

Seeming not to notice, he relinquished his hold on her and stretched, then winced.

“Forgive me—I had quite forgot my wound. I’ll receive your answer tomorrow then since you mean to torture me. But that is your prerogative as a woman, is it not? Now, let us take a candle each and ascend to our chambers together. Two candles light the way better than one.”

Taking possession of his uninjured arm, Isobel was relieved to feel the solid muscle beneath his sleeve. Since his declaration, a sense of unreality had swept over her, so profound she needed reassurance that he was, indeed, there and not some mad dream sent to torment her. She was a mass of confusion—jubilation warred with caution, and she strove to maintain a balance between them. Her whole being wanted to whoop with joy, but she didn’t trust in her good luck. Dame Fortuna had smiled on her too little of late.

Will gave her his candle to hold as he pushed open the door to the chamber which had been made up for him. Then, to her surprise, he drew her inside as well and closed the door behind them.

“What are you doing?” Her voice sounded shaky and high. He smiled slowly, then removed both candles from her trembling fingers, and placed them on the linen chest.

“I have an injured arm, and the servants will all be abed by now. I may need help undressing.”

She could rouse one of them, couldn’t she? But did she want to?

“Come, I only need a little help undoing my points. I’ll do as much as I can by myself.”

“But ’tis most unseemly.”

Will pressed a finger against her lips. “After all we’ve been through together, I think we can overlook this slight breach of propriety. Who is there to judge us? Besides, I have this wound on your account, so the least you can do is help me.”

“Sir William Cavendish, you are the veriest rogue.”