While the Duke Was Sleeping (The Rogue Files #1)(74)

“You know?” She blinked.

“Aye. From the start I’ve known you don’t truly love Autenberry. I’ve always known that, lass.”

She nodded, wishing that were the all of it. “Yes, you thought that—”

“No. I’ve known. Because I know you, Poppy.”

He closed the space separating them, which brought her hand flush with the hard wall of his chest. “Very well, that is true,” she admitted. “But there is more.”

He stared at her, waiting as though he finally understood she had to say it all—everything. Deep breath. No matter the cost to her, he deserved to know. “I was never engaged to the duke. Was never even his mistress as you suspected. I was nothing. I am nothing.” She flapped her arms helplessly at her sides. “No one to him. Just a girl who sold him flowers and harbored a schoolgirl crush for him.”

He was silent for a moment before asking, “And you just made up the whole betrothal?”

She grimaced. “Yes. I’m sorry. I never meant for it to go so far.” It wasn’t worth mentioning Lord Strickland’s involvement. She went along with everything—she was the one at the center of the deception.

He let out a breath and looked down before lifting his gaze back to hers. “So we have a problem, then.”

Her heart stalled. He couldn’t forgive her. He didn’t want her. “What’s that?” she asked, hardly breathing.

“You said people take risks for those they care about.” She nodded in response. “Meaning you care about me?” he pressed.

“I do,” she whispered. “Yes.”

“That’s not good enough for me, I’m sorry,” he replied, his expression hard and unyielding.

His words stung like a slap. Her throat clogged tight with emotion. “I understand.”

She couldn’t even think. She only knew that she felt like she was splintering apart. Her chest grew so tight it hurt to breathe. She turned to go, but was seized suddenly by his arms and forced around.

“It’s not good enough because I need more. I want everything from you, Poppy Fairchurch. Your whole heart.” His fingers flexed on her arms and she felt each one like a singeing brand. His moss green eyes scoured her face. “You lied about loving my brother, about being betrothed to him?” He shook his head side to side. “That’s the sweetest lie I ever heard.”

She choked back a sob. A happy sob.

He continued, “I want your love because God knows you have my heart. It’s yours. I love you. I love you more than I thought I could ever love a person.”

Her gaze flicked over his face, so harsh and unrelenting in the absolute intensity of his declaration. She smoothed a hand over his cheek.

She shook her head, her eyes blurring. “I love you, too. Almost from the start, although I didn’t realize what was happening.” The words burst from her in a choking torrent. “I loved the idea of the duke. He was a stranger that I built a romantic ideal around, but it wasn’t real. That was never more obvious to me than when the duke woke and proposed in truth—”

“Autenberry asked you to marry him?” He stared at her in something akin to awe.

She nodded. “Yes, in a strange turn of events. I think he thought it would make his family happy—”

“And thwart me.” He grunted, his eyes glinting with anger.

“Perhaps, yes. That, too,” she allowed, covering his hand with her own.

“And you didn’t want that? Your duke? The fantasy? Being a duchess?”

She shook her head. “The reality of you is better than any fantasy I’ve ever had.”

“You choose me,” he said, and his voice sounded faintly constricted. “Aside of my mother, you’re the first person who ever chose me.”

He was thinking of his father . . . of his rejection. She moistened her lips and swallowed. “I choose you. I’ll choose you every time, Struan. You came along and the reality of you is so much more . . . you made me feel so much more. You woke me up to how love can truly be. Things I never thought I could feel.” She lifted her shoulders, a sob catching in her voice. She motioned between them. “I didn’t know this existed.”

He swept her up in his arms, lifting her feet off the ground. “It exists, kitten. This is real. And it’s forever.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and clung, hanging on, never wanting to let go. He kissed her then. A long, breathless kiss that tasted of forever.

And she knew it would be.





Epilogue




Four months later . . .



Poppy brushed her hair in long strokes, pausing in front of her dresser mirror as the bedchamber door opened. Smiling, she watched as Struan entered their chamber and approached. She parted her lips to greet him, but her words twisted in a yelp as he bent down and scooped her up from the dresser bench and tossed her onto the bed like she weighed nothing at all.

He followed, dropping down beside her and tugging her closer with an arm around her waist.

“Struan!” She laughed, her hands splaying against his chest. “I’m trying to get ready. The guests will be here soon.”

He groaned. “Do we have to go downstairs?”

“You were the one who wanted to have this little soiree,” she reminded pertly, rolling onto her side to face him.