One of his brows quirked. “And what have we been doing so far? Giving each other the silent treatment?”
She pressed her hands onto her hips, mostly to stop them from trembling. “We have to talk about what happened earlier today.”
“What happened?”
“You know.”
“Why don’t you demonstrate again to remind me.”
“Stop.”
His grin made an appearance, and the light danced in his eyes, making him as handsome and appealing as always. Oh, dear heavens. Why did his smile have to be so devastating, almost seductive? Because suddenly, in watching his mouth, she couldn’t think of anything else but how his lips had felt against hers earlier. And indeed, they’d been against hers in the most intimate of ways—hard and hot and heavy.
Her stomach quivered with the need to feel his lips that way again.
“I won’t object if you want to do it all again.” His voice dropped a notch, and his eyes also dropped to her mouth.
Yes, she’d demonstrate in a heartbeat, but she had to stay strong, couldn’t give in to the desire . . . at least, not until she clarified the nature of their relationship and his intentions toward her.
Her mind scrambled to find the right words to say, the right words to tell him how she felt, the right words to ask him to be with her.
Even though he didn’t take a step toward her, she could sense a shift in his mood, that he was finally growing more serious, that he wanted to say something too. Except that from the wrinkle of determination that was beginning to form in his brow, she suspected she might not like what he had to say.
“Philip . . .” She forced out his name, but the rest of her words clogged at the back of her throat like a logjam on the creek.
“Felicity, I’ve made plans to go. I have to.”
No. The silent word screamed inside of her.
“It’s the only way—”
“I love you.” The words pushed past all the obstructions—the only words that could truly encapsulate all that he meant to her, all that she wanted, and all that he needed to know before he finalized his plans.
17
Had he heard her correctly? Surely she hadn’t just said what he thought she had.
But from the way she was watching him, her brown eyes wide and vulnerable—and oh so beautiful—he knew he hadn’t misunderstood.
Felicity loved him. She’d not only spoken the words, but her gaze was filled with her love.
He didn’t merit it, not when he’d been such a scoundrel earlier today in taking advantage of her and kissing her. He deserved her wrath and disdain more than anything else.
“I vowed to myself that I wouldn’t let another man kiss me unless I knew that he was the one I wanted to be with.” She hugged her arms across her chest as if suddenly cold. “And you’re the one I want to be with.”
He swiped off his hat and jabbed his hand into his hair. This conversation was rapidly changing from bad to worse. How could he say anything in response to her revelations without hurting her completely?
That was exactly what he’d been afraid of all along—why he’d tried to leave Fairplay, why he’d been hesitant about getting too close to her. And now it had happened. She’d declared her love and all but proposed marriage.
Everything within him wanted to grab her into his arms and tell her she was the one he wanted to be with too. He could no longer deny that, even though he’d been trying so hard.
When he’d ridden into town earlier, he’d seriously considered again the possibility of sending Gustaf a notice that he wanted to cut his ties with the royal family. His blood had been heated, his body still on fire, and his heart filled with need for only Felicity. He’d realized that all he really wanted and all that truly mattered was her.
But when he’d arrived in town, a telegram had awaited him. Although anonymous, Philip had known it was from the prime minister. All it had said was: The end is near.
Of course, he’d burned the slip of paper. But the words had burned in his chest ever since. The end was near. A battle might be going on at this very moment in Lapland, and he wouldn’t have word yet.
And if Gustaf were overthrown by rioters and rebels, and parliament called Philip home, what would he do then? He wouldn’t be able to deny them. Not after they’d made so concerted an effort to oust Gustaf. Not after men had fought and possibly lost their lives for the cause of freedom and to have a monarch who submitted to the government instead of trying to do away with it.
Philip pressed his fingers to his throbbing temples and avoided looking at Felicity. The simple truth was that he couldn’t walk away from his country and his duties. Not after doing his best over the past months to stay alive and avoid the assassin. And he couldn’t promise Felicity a future with him in Lapland, especially since he didn’t know what awaited him. His life, his future, his purpose—all of it was still so uncertain.
And then there was the constant threat of danger . . .
He’d seen a shadowy figure lounging in the hotel doorway across from the post office. The bulky shape of the body, broad shoulders, and square face had been similar to the man who’d been trailing him before. And although Philip hadn’t been able to see the man’s face, his skin had prickled with the realization that someone knew where he was.
Ever since that moment, the urgency inside had been mounting. He needed to leave Fairplay and take the peril far from Felicity.
But according to Mr. McLaughlin, the fellow who ran the livery and kept track of the stagecoach schedule, there probably wouldn’t be any more stagecoaches or teamsters coming and going over the high mountain passes anytime soon, maybe not even until spring.
If he wanted to get to Denver, he’d have to brave the passes on a horse with as much of his belongings as he could carry on his saddle. Even then, Mr. McLaughlin recommended waiting a few more days to give the snow a chance to melt.
“Well . . .?” Felicity’s voice hinted at hurt.
“I don’t know what to say.” He couldn’t tell her he loved her in response. He had no right to utter such a declaration. Not now, when he wasn’t in a position to offer her anything but trouble.
Her eyes glinted. Were they filling with tears?
He loathed himself for upsetting her.
“Your not knowing what to say speaks clearly enough.” She spun and stalked toward the barn door.
He couldn’t let her walk away like this. He had to try to make things a little better. But how?
His thoughts tumbled about like a ship in a storm, his stomach roiling. Was it finally time to tell her the truth about his situation? If he did so, surely she’d understand his choice to go wasn’t an easy one.
“Felicity, wait.”
She didn’t slow her steps.
He stalked after her, needing to stop her before she exited and they lost the privacy of the moment. His long legs easily caught up to her, and he grabbed her arm, bringing her to a halt.
Without turning to face him, she sniffled.
She was crying.
Self-loathing stirred in him again. “I’m sorry—”
“Don’t apologize. I don’t want to hear it.” She wrenched to free herself from him.
He held her fast. “I wish I could throw away my future and my responsibilities and stay here with you. I really do. But I can’t . . . because . . .”