Once a Wallflower, At Last His Love (Scandalous Seasons #6)(104)

He leaned over and tapped the package with an impatient hand. “Open it.”

She schooled her features into solemn expression. “Will it be safe for me to do so? The whole overexerting myself business and all.”

His frown deepened and he reached for the package. “I’d not considered—”

Hermione drew the gift back and laughed. “I was being facetious.”

“Oh.”

Hermione slid her finger under the ribbon holding the satin fabric in place and withdrew a leather book; the slight weight of the volume had a warm, familiar feel. Filled with curiosity, she turned the book over and skimmed the title. She blinked at her last published work, trying to make sense of the gold lettering emblazoned across the front of the volume.

The Earl’s Entrapment

By Mr. Michael Michaelmas

He set her away from him with a scowl. “You have nothing to say?”

She tipped her head, uncertain how to account for the black glower on her husband’s face. “Um, I quite enjoy this story. It is one of my favorite books of Mr. Michaelmas.” Or it had been until her sister had gone and pointed out that she’d become the dishonorable schemer who’d trapped the hero in marriage.

“That is not it.” He draped his arms over the back of his plush, red velvet seat and drummed his fingertips. “Try again.”

“I love you?”

He growled.

“Thank you?”

Another growl, this one more of a snarl really. Oh, it wouldn’t do to tease him.

“I’m sorry?” But it really was good fun.

Sebastian folded his arms in a menacing fashion. “It would seem, madam, that you are merely venturing guesses now.”

Well, that was at least true and having a good time in the process. She held the book up. “Perhaps you’d care to enlighten me, then as to the suitable response?”

“You promised there would be no more lies between us.”

She frowned, really beginning to take offense with his sharp, commanding tone. This gentleman bore more traces to that stranger who’d challenged her in Lord Denley’s office a lifetime ago. “There haven’t been.” And there hadn’t. The last piece of herself she’d kept from him was the omission of Mr. Michael Michaelmas. She stared down at the book. Yet Mr. Michaelmas had no bearing on their future.

He removed the book from her hands and held it up damningly. “If there are no more lies, Hermione, then what is this?”

Ah, so this was that harsh, imperious tone adopted by dukes which had young ladies quaking. Not that she was quaking. She wasn’t.

“Hermione,” he barked.

She made another grab for the beloved volume. “That is a book, Sebastian. The Entrapped Earl,” she pointed out. His eyebrows dipped menacingly. “Do you have a problem with the title?” She’d found it to be one of Mr. Werksman more clever ideas.

“I don’t have a problem with the damned title.” His rumbling voice steadily increased in volume. Oh, well that was something. He tossed the book onto the empty spot beside her. “I have a problem with the damned author.”

The implications of his words slammed into her with the force of a fast-moving phaeton. “You…” She pressed a hand to her breast. This rejection far worse than his opinion on Mr. Werksman’s title. “You hate Mr. Michaelmas?” The whisper was torn from her under the weight of this staggering rejection.

A startled squeak escaped her as he hoisted her onto his lap. “Mr. Michaelmas infuriates me.”

“Oh.” She wrinkled her nose. That wasn’t well-done of her husband. He didn’t personally know Mr. Michaelmas. Granted, she was Mr. Michaelmas, but he didn’t know that…

Her husband continued in a stinging diatribe and she gave silent thanks that Mr. Michaelmas was a fictional fellow or he’d really be quite offended.

“Mr. Michaelmas is obstinate and maddening and—”

She held up a hand. “You really shouldn’t have such an unfavorable opinion of him.” After all, she was he, and she’d not allow Sebastian to disparage her without justifiable reasons.

“May I finish, wife?” he growled. He dipped his head low and she detected the flecks of gold within the green irises of his eyes. “He is obstinate and maddening and I love him.”

“You love him?” she blurted. All her earlier annoyance faded, replaced with a rapidly spreading joy, similar to the moment he’d first conceded his enjoyment with The Bitterest Baron’s Bittersweet Love.

He closed his eyes a moment and his lips moved silently in what she believed was prayer. “I love you, you daft woman.” Then the anger seemed to drain out of him. “I know, Hermione.” He spoke so softly she very nearly didn’t hear. As it was—

She blinked. “You know?”

He nodded.

She touched her fingers to her mouth. “You know.” Her mind stalled and then quickly spun wildly as she tried to sort through his admission.

“I know.” He spoke with such a gentleness tears flooded her eyes. Where was the censure, the angry disapproval?

“How?” No one knew. No one but…a likely eleven-year-old traitor. She shook her head. “You needn’t worry, Sebastian, I’ve not lied to you. I did not confess to being Mr. Michaelmas because I did not intend to write as him anymore.” Even though her fingers would forever ache with the desire to pick up a pen and create another story of another tortured couple and their ultimate triumph in the face of great tribulations.