The scar on his right cheek twisted a little. Fiona knew he loathed how it made him look, but ever since he’d told her the story of how it had come to be, she’d considered it a symbol of honor and heroic duty.
“Perhaps the issue is not with finding a subject, but rather with figuring out how best to address it,” he said. “Or maybe there’s simply too much to say. For my own part, my mind is in a state of confusion and… Well, I’m not quite myself. I hope you can forgive me.”
“Of course.” She set her spoon aside and noted to her horror that her hand trembled. A natural response when considering she was about to step so far past the bounds of comfort she might as well be about to steal a portrait from the National Gallery. Come to think of it, this was worse.
She braced herself as she caught his gaze once more. This time, however, she did something she had never dared do before. She placed her hand over his and watched him go utterly still.
Duncan’s heart slammed into his ribs the moment she touched him. Without gloves, he noted with what could only be described as immense satisfaction. She seemed to study him for a moment, as if attempting to figure out how to proceed.
He scarcely dared move lest she withdraw her hand. So he sat, utterly still, and did his best not to shock her by hauling her into his lap and kissing her senseless. Such action could prove calamitous to their relationship if all she wished to impart was gratitude and some sort of friendly affection.
“I know you don’t want to talk about this,” she said with great care, “but after all the years in which you and I have known each other, I hope you’ll permit me to speak freely.”
Immediately on edge, Duncan stiffened his spine. Apprehensive, he gave her a slow nod of agreement. “Go on.”
“It’s about your scar.”
Damn. Of all the things in the world, she had to remind him of his imperfection.
“You’re right,” he said more harshly than he’d intended. “That particular subject is off limits, Fiona, as well you know.”
Hurt that this was what she saw when she looked at him, he tried to pull his hand away, but she curled her fingers around his and held him in place.
Determination, more fierce than he’d ever seen, blazed in her dark brown eyes. “I know it’s a sensitive issue for you because you fear it will impact other people’s opinion in a negative way. And maybe it will for those who are superficial or who do not know you as well as I do. But to me…Duncan…”
She swallowed while every emotion within him leapt with joy at the sound of his name on her lips. It was the first time she’d used it, and that in itself gave him hope.
“To you?” he prompted, so low his voice could scarcely be heard.
She clasped his hand harder and seemed to struggle with some inner turmoil. Duncan held his breath. And then she said, “To me you are the kindest, most honorable and wonderful man I’ve ever met. You are the reason I look forward to waking in the morning, because each day spent with you is like a gift. It improves upon my own existence and fills my heart with joy. Moreover, you are the handsomest man in the world, Duncan. Don’t ever let anyone give you reason to doubt that.”
A startled gasp punctuated her declaration, as if she’d shocked herself with her boldness.
Hell, she’d shocked Duncan, though in the best way possible. “Fiona, I–”
“You don’t have to say anything,” she said, the words tripping over each other in a rush. “In fact, I’d rather you don’t since you probably think me a foolish ninny. But the fact is that no matter how many men I meet in this lifetime, none will compare with you.” When he opened his mouth to speak, she cut him off. “Don’t you dare tell me this is a phase that will pass or that I don’t truly know what love is or that my affection is based on the fact that you helped me past my grief. It took tremendous courage for me to bare my heart just now. So please, I’d rather you sit there in silence than tell me you’re flattered and that I will never be more than a sister to you.”
“You’re not my sister,” he practically growled.
She let go his hand. “A friend who’s like a sister then.”
“You’re not that either.”
Frustration sharpened her gaze. “How naïve of me to hope you might care for me as much as I care for you.”
“Did I not say that you are dear to my heart?”
“Yes, but–”
“Oh, for God’s sake.” Determined to clarify his position without confusing the issue with words, he grabbed her upper arm, hauled her toward him and pressed his mouth to hers.
Duncan’s kiss caught Fiona by surprise in the most spectacular way. Every anxiety she’d been harboring these past weeks since she’d come to terms with her feelings for him, and tonight in particular, evaporated beneath the press of his lips. This was what she’d dreamed of, what her heart had ached for, and now it was happening, right here in the middle of the dining room.
She almost laughed with the joy of it all.
“You may kiss me back, you know,” he murmured against the edge of her mouth. “In fact, I encourage you to do so.”
Smiling against his lips, she began to nibble at him as though he were a treat she wished to savor. Her own hands leapt into action, grabbing at his lapels and hauling him to her – an awkward feat with the corner of the table an inconvenient hindrance.
He must have thought the same, for he was suddenly on his feet and then she was too, with nothing but their evening attire between them. His arms came around her, holding her close as she gave way to her emotions. The next kiss was wrought with fervor and endless promise. It warmed her insides and weakened her knees.
“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted,” he whispered while kissing his way across her cheek. When he nipped at her earlobe she shivered with pleasure. “Marry me, Fiona. Be my wife, my duchess, and make me the happiest man in the world.”
“Yes.”
Happiness captured his features and then he whisked her into his arms, holding her tight while he spun her around. Additional kisses followed.
“I love you,” he told her later when they’d retreated to the library where a cozy fire burned. He sat on the sofa while she lay with her head in his lap.
“I love you too,” she assured him since she knew he might need reminding.
His fingers traced the length of her arm. Up and down. It was maddening, the effect it had on her body. Gathering additional courage, she gazed up at him and asked, “Would you think ill of me if I told you I’d like to retire?”
He blinked. “ I suppose it is rather late, so if you’re tired–”
“I’m not in the least.” When he gave her a blank stare she reached up to caress his scar with her palm. Infusing her touch with all the love she harbored for him, she told him plainly, “We are to be married, Duncan, and I want to celebrate that with you in the most elemental way possible.”
Understanding lit his eyes. His fingers stilled against her arm. “Fiona… Are you certain?”
She pushed herself upright so she could face him properly. “Absolutely. Indeed, if you must know, it’s something I’ve yearned for with you for quite a long time now and–”