Page 25 of The Baron’s Halo

At last he wrapped his arms around her more fiercely and whispered, “I know you are upset that you have had to make this confession to me, my dear. But when you have got yourself in hand, we do need to talk.”

She sputtered a little more, sniffed, then finally took a deep breath. Red-faced, eyes swollen, she turned her head away and mumbled, “I must go.”

When she tried to rise however, she couldn’t. He held onto her firmly, not about to let her flee. “You are fine where you are, Isabelle.”

“I look an absolute fright, my lord. I need to put cold water on my face.” She continued to hide it from him, though he didn’t care a tuppence about how she looked at the moment.

“My lord? Do not tell me you are reneging on your promise to use my first name, Miss Devereaux?”

“I shouldn’t call you by your first name, my lord.” She still hid her face from him, which made everything more difficult.

“Have I given you any indication I wished for us to be formal with one another again? To discontinue our warmer relationship?”

Slowly, she turned her face toward him, streaks of tears still on her cheeks. She looked so woebegone, his heart hurt with wanting to make her smile once more. “No, you have not, but you are kind, my lord. You have been like an angel, keeping me from harm. You take pity on me now and wish not to upset me, when by all rights you should distance yourself from me.” She sniffed and he feared the tears would begin to flow again. “As should everyone.”

He seized her hands again, chafing her cold fingers. “Why would I wish to distance myself from the woman I love? The only woman in the world I wish to call my wife?”

Disbelief made her face pinched and miserable.

Undeterred, he pressed his lips to her wet cheek. “Oh, Isabelle, can you not trust me to know that what he did to you was never your fault?”

Slowly, she shook her head, her eyes still wary. “You cannot mean that, my—”

He screwed his face into a thunderous frown.

“Sandy,” she said quickly.

“I most certainly do, my love.” He sighed and leaned his forehead against hers. “I know, given the circumstances, you cannot trust men as you otherwise might have. But I beg of you, sweetheart, trust me.” He wrapped his arms all the way around her, never wanting to let her go. “If I have not said it plainly before, I say it now. I love you, Isabelle. I want you to be my wife and the mother of my children. Only you, my love.”

“Oh, Sandy.” Her countenance softened, her eyes pleading with him. “I do want to believe that with all my heart. But Society will not tolerate such a thing, my dear. A ruined woman is never accepted by the ton.”

“But you are not ruined in their eyes, my dear. No one knows but you, me, and your stepfather. As long as he stays silent, you have nothing to fear.” It certainly gave Grey power over them, but it was a chance they had to take.

“When I thought him dead, I knew the secret was safe, but now…” Isabelle bit her bottom lip. “I may never be safe again. What if he tells someone?”

“Who can he tell without implicating himself? How else would he know?” Sandy drew a long breath. “After we are married, it will be a moot point, because I will swear to anyone who asks that you were a virgin on our wedding night.”

“Sandy!” That seemed to take the wind out of her sails. “You can’t mean you would lie about it.”

“I do mean it, Isabelle.”

“But I’m not…a virgin,” she whispered and hung her head.

He seized her face in both hands and stared at her until she returned his gaze. “You will be a virgin to me, my love. We will not dwell on what he took from you, only on what we will share together. I promise to be the gentlest and most loving of husbands, if you will still have me.”

A ray of hope shone in Isabelle’s eyes for the first time today. “And you’re perfectly sure, Sandy?”

At last, she’d given him an inkling that everything would come right. “I love you, Isabelle. More each time I behold your lovely face. There is nothing anyone could ever say to me that would make me love you less.” Gazing into all that beauty, he could avow he loved her more with each breath he took. Now he needed to show her, irrevocably, he meant what he said.

He slipped off the sofa and onto the floor, going down on one knee, and grasping her hand. “Isabelle, if I must ask you a second time, I will gladly do so. Will you do me the very great honor of becoming my wife?”

Tears welled in her eyes once more, but he could tell they were happy tears. She squeezed his hand tightly and nodded.

“Yes, Sandy, I will marry you. A thousand times yes!”

“Well, thank God.” Sandy kissed her hand, her warm skin exciting him once more. He had her promise. She would be his and no other’s.

Joyous once more, he slipped back onto the sofa next to her, her hand still in his. He was loath to give it up, as hard won as it was. They sat in companionable silence, Isabelle leaning against him, her soft scent of lilacs wafting over him. She always smelled like a bouquet of fresh flowers. He pulled her closer, resting his head atop hers. “I hope we can be in accord about our next wedding, my dear, for I wish for us to be married as soon as possible. Once you are Lady MacKay, your stepfather will have no power over you whatsoever.”