Forever Betrothed, Never the Bride (Scandalous Seasons #1)(72)

Waxham reached a hand out to capture Emmaline’s. He gave it a faint, reassuring squeeze.

Drake’s eyes dropped to where her hand rested, entwined with Waxham’s. “I asked you a question, Emmaline.”

With alacrity in his movements, her brother advanced angrily around the long, wide dining table. “Do not make demands of my sister.”

A bitter little laugh escaped her. “I’m sure you will tell me, my lord.”

Drake moved across the room, closer to her. “Look at me,” he ordered in his Captain’s tone.

Emmaline lifted her chin and met his stare.

Drake’s throat bobbed up and down. “Because of me. It’s because of me that you sat on the bloody sidelines. You are beautiful. And you are vibrant…and the only reason gentlemen didn’t flock to your side was because of me.” His resounding words carried throughout the room and echoed off the walls.

Emmaline had fallen in love with Lord Drake two times in her life: one being when he’d rescued an old peddler woman on the street, the other being this very moment.

He devoured her with his eyes. “You are beautiful. In every way. I’ve never deserved you. I never will. Still knowing that, I have come to ask if I might court you?”

She gasped and dropped Waxham’s hand.

“No,” Sebastian barked.

Drake continued to hold up a single finger to keep an enraged Sebastian in his place.

Emmaline’s gaze fell to the bouquet of cerastium Drake held. Tears flooded her eyes and she blinked them back.

Drake saw the direction of her focus. “These are for you.”

“The poor buds have wilted significantly,” she blurted.

His brow furrowed. “So I’ve been told.”

“They are still beautiful.”

A low, animalistic growl emerged from deep within Sebastian’s chest, and effectively intruded in the moment she’d shared with Drake. “I’ve watched enough of this farcical drama. I am having you physically removed. Carmichael, fetch two servants and have Lord Drake thrown into the street,” Sebastian said.

The butler hurried to do his master’s bidding.

Seeming wholly unaffected by Sebastian’s threat, Drake fished around the front of his jacket. He extracted a folded sheet of parchment, shook it out, and held it out for her to see. “I wrote you a poem.”

Her eyes went to the scrap in his hands.

A dull flush stained Drake’s cheeks. He cleared his throat and began.

“Your eyes and hair are like chocolate.

Warm. Pure. Soothing.

Your smile is like a Christmas morning.

Exciting. Unexpected. Delightful.

Your hand is like…”

Sebastian’s groan interrupted Drake’s recitation. Her brother shook his head piteously. “For the love of God, that is bloody awful. Spare yourself any further embarrassment.”

Tears blinded Emmaline. “Shut up, Sebastian.” She silently pleaded with Drake to continue.

Drake’s eyes skimmed the paper until he found the spot he’d left off on. “Your hand is like salvation. It saved me.”

Warm, salty drops spilled from her lashes and trailed a path down her cheeks. A lifetime ago she’d been a little girl sitting across from a young boy, a prince who’d rescued her from a fall. Years later, when the prince left to fight on the Peninsula, the little girl had been replaced by a whimsical young woman, who’d often ruminated about a moment just like the one she was living in her brother’s dining room.

Carmichael arrived with two burly servants from the kitchen.

Well, all of it except for the servants arriving to throw him from the room.

Emmaline shoved her seat back and jumped to her feet. “Don’t touch him.”

“Remove him,” her brother barked.

***

Drake had battled soldiers who’d been intent on cutting his throat. It would take more than three of Mallen’s servants to alarm him. He took a step towards Emmaline.

This was it.

In a room full of witnesses, he who had existed in this shell of himself for the past three years was going to bare himself to this woman who’d come to mean more to him than anyone. It terrified him. Seeing the unfiltered love in her eyes, however, gave him the courage to continue.

“I have wronged you. I have never treated you as you deserved. I have made more mistakes in my life than I can count. My greatest regret has been how horribly I have treated you.” He knelt beside her. “You said you wanted a choice. Well, now you have a choice. And I’m asking you to choose me. Choose me, not because you are required to, not because you have no choice. Not because I’m heir to a dukedom. Choose me because you need me as much as I need you.”

He set the bouquet down on the table beside her most likely cold soup and claimed her hands in his. He turned them over and studied them. They were so delicate. And shaking. He traced the intersecting lines of her palm with his pointer finger.

“Get your hands off my sister,” Mallen shouted.

Drake ignored him. “I don’t know if you have it in you to look past all my mistakes, but I ask that you allow me to court you?” He brushed a delicate kiss upon her knuckles. God, he’d missed…

One of Mallen’s burly staff members jerked him backward. Drake cursed. He should have been expecting that.