A Wallflower Christmas (Wallflowers #5)(40)

If he chose someone else, he would lose everything.

A woman who cared about him would never ask him to make such a choice.

That afternoon when Hannah had picked herself up from the library floor and painstakingly restored her clothing, she had acknowledged that she was falling in love with him, and the more she knew of him, the deeper the feelings cut. She had retrieved the little toy soldier, and she carried it in her pocket, a small and private weight. It was her token nowshe would not offer it to Rafe again. In the future she would be able to close the piece in her hand and remember the dashing American scoundrel and the attraction that had exploded in a passion she would never forget.

I’m a woman with a past now, she thought, amused and wistful.

Regarding Samuel Clark and his proposal…Rafe had been right. She did not love him. It would be unfair to Clark if she married him and forever compared him to someone else. Therefore Hannah resolved to write to Clark soon and turn down his offer of marriage, much as she was tempted by the safety of it.

Natalie’s merry voice recalled her from her thoughts. “Hannah! Hannah, are you listening? I have something delicious to tell you…a few minutes ago, Polly brought the most astonishing little note” Natalie waved a scorched and half-crumpled bit of parchment in front of her. “You’ll blush when you read it. You’ll faint.”

“What is it?” Hannah asked, slowly approaching the bedside.

The young dark-haired housemaid, Polly, answered sheepishly. “Well, miss, it’s part of my chores to polish the grates and clean the hearths in the bachelor’s house behind the manor”

“That’s where Mr. Bowman is staying,” Natalie interjected.

“and after Mr. Bowman left this morning, I went to the hearth, and while I was sweeping out the ashes, I saw a bit of paper with writing on it. So I picked it up, and when I saw it was a love letter, I knew it was for Lady Natalie.”

“Why did you assume that?” Hannah asked, nettled that Rafe’s privacy should have been invaded in such a way.

“Because he’s courting me,” Natalie said, rolling her eyes, “and everyone knows it.”

Hannah turned an unsmiling gaze to the housemaid, whose excitement had dimmed in the face of her disapproval. “You shouldn’t snoop through the guests’ things, Polly,” she said gently.

“But it was in the hearth, half burnt,” the maid protested, flushing. “He didn’t want it. And I saw the words and thought it might be important.”

“Either you thought it was rubbish, or you thought it was important. Which was it?”

“Am I going to get in trouble?” Polly whispered, turning a beseeching gaze to Natalie.

“No, of course not,” Natalie said impatiently. “Now Hannah, don’t turn all schoolma’amish. You’re missing the point entirely, which is that this is a love letter from Mr. Bowman to me. And it’s a rather dirty-minded and odd letterI’ve never received anything like it before, and it’s very entertaining and” She broke off with a gasp of laughter as Hannah snatched it from her.

The letter had been crumpled up and tossed onto the grate. It had burned all around the edges, so the names at the top and bottom had gone up in smoke. But there was enough of the bold black scrawl to reveal that it had indeed been a love letter. And as Hannah read the singed and half-destroyed parchment, she was forced to turn away to hide the trembling of her hand.

should warn you that this letter will not be eloquent. However, it will be sincere, especially in light of the fact that you will never read it. I have felt these words like a weight in my chest, until I find myself amazed that a heart can go on beating under such a burden. I love you. I love you desperately, violently, tenderly, completely. I want you in ways that I know you would find shocking. My love, you don’t belong with a man like me. In the past I’ve done things you wouldn’t approve of, and I’ve done them ten times over. I have led a life of immoderate sin. As it turns out, I’m just as immoderate in love. Worse, in fact. I want to kiss every soft place of you, make you blush and faint, pleasure you until you weep, and dry every tear with my lips. If you only knew how I crave the taste of you. I want to take you in my hands and mouth and feast on you. I want to drink wine and honey from you. I want you under me. On your back. I’m sorry. You deserve more respect than that. But I can’t stop thinking of it. Your arms and legs around me. Your mouth, open for my kisses. I need too much of you. A lifetime of nights spent between your thighs wouldn’t be enough. I want to talk with you forever. I remember every word you’ve ever said to me. If only I could visit you as a foreigner goes into a new country, learn the language of you, wander past all borders into every private and secret place, I would stay forever. I would become a citizen of you. You would say it’s too soon to feel this way. You would ask how I could be so certain. But some things can’t be measured by time. Ask me an hour from now. Ask me a month from now. A year, ten years, a lifetime. The way I love you will outlast every calendar, clock, and every toll of every bell that will ever be cast. If only you

And there it stopped.

Aware of the silence in the room, Hannah endeavored to regulate her breathing. “Is there any more?” she asked in a controlled tone.

“I knew you would blush,” Natalie said triumphantly.

“The rest was ashes, miss,” Polly replied, more guarded.