“I think so,” she said. “I hope so.”
He reached for her hands.
She let him take them.
“Then I decide to love you,” he said. “Now and forever. My offer of marriage will stay open for as long as I breathe. If your counteroffer to be clandestine lovers is the only choice, then I accept it. And if you want me far away, then I’ll go. And I’ll love you always and forever, from the other side of the world.”
Her lungs could barely let in new air from the racket her heart was making.
“You’re getting ahead of yourself,” she said. “We had an arrangement. If you managed to get Duke to allow you to ride him, I was to give your suit honest consideration.”
He’d fulfilled the terms of a challenge designed to make him fail—in more ways than Olive had realized.
She’d accidentally placed him into his worst nightmare. Tortured him with the prospect of confronting her most infamously irascible stallion. She’d forced Elijah to face his biggest, most primal fears, at risk of life and limb.
He hadn’t attempted it for his father.
He’d done it for her.
“You won,” she said softly. “You did it. I have no idea how—”
“It was the carrots,” he mumbled. “And possibly the extremely slow start.”
“That is it,” she said in surprise. “That’s exactly what you did. You were nice to him. You let him come to know you. You didn’t pressure him. You let him take as much time as he needed, and then you let him make his own choice.”
“The clothes might have helped,” Elijah added. “This is a very nice waistcoat.”
“Duke cares as much about fashion as I do,” Olive said dryly.
But she did recognize the value of something flashy. She let go of his hand and reached into her jacket pocket to pull out the medallion he had brought her.
“I won, too,” she said softly. “Not just that race all those years ago. I won a second chance with you.”
Elijah’s gaze snapped to hers. “What does winning mean for us?”
It meant ownership of a farm did not determine Olive’s worth as a person.
It meant instead of dedicating her life to chasing her horses’ best interests, Olive should consider her own best interests, too.
It meant a partnership didn’t make her less whole, but rather part of something even bigger than herself.
Olive slid the medallion into Elijah’s pocket. She didn’t need to hold on to the past any longer.
“It means I love you,” she said. “It means I forgive you. It means you’re human and I’m human and this probably isn’t the last fight we’ll ever have, but at the end of the day we’ll find ourselves in each other’s arms because the most important thing will always be each other.”
“When you say you love me,” he said slowly, “are you agreeing to the ‘from opposite ends of the earth scenario,’ or...”
She arched a brow. “Are you still carrying around that marriage license?”
“I am indeed.” He patted his lapel. “I say, Miss Harper, what are you doing on Sunday? Care to pay a visit to the closest chapel and take a few vows?”
“That sounds lovely, Mr. Weston. I’ll mark a note on my calendar. In fact...” She burst out laughing. “Papa was right after all. A Sunday wedding gives us plenty of time to announce our scandalously short betrothal at the Duke of Nottingvale’s Twelfth Night gala.”
Elijah grinned. “Shall we tell your father the happy news?”
“On the ninth day?” She clapped her hands to her chest, aghast. “He would gloat for the rest of our lives.”
“Oh dear, that is a pickle.” Elijah pulled her into his embrace and claimed her mouth with a searing kiss. “How ever shall we pass the night?”
Olive licked her lips. “I believe there was a certain sensual kiss you promised to let me try...”
Chapter 17
The Tenth Day
Olive awoke in Elijah’s arms. She didn’t dare to move. The moment was too perfect. They were both on their sides, his strong body wrapped around hers protectively. His strong, naked body.
His strong, naked, aroused body.
“I have an idea,” she whispered. “It involves not leaving this bedroom, ever.”
“That is a phenomenal idea,” he murmured just behind her ear. “But won’t the horses be lonely?”
“The stable hands are back. I haven’t any responsibilities until next Christmas.” She craned her neck toward him.
He kissed her cheek. “Hmm, I’m not certain I believe that. You might be trying to seduce me.”
“I’m definitely trying to seduce you,” she agreed. “Tell me it’s working.”
“I’ve been in a constant state of seduction for the past ten days,” he said fervently. “But your father is waiting for us at the breakfast table. If we don’t get there soon, the maid is liable to ask him why Miss Harper’s door is barred, and Mr. Weston’s room is empty.”
Olive groaned. “Very good point. I must concede to your logic. But after Sunday...”
“From Sunday,” he corrected. “I plan to hand out pieces of dry toast for the wedding breakfast and send everyone on their way. We won’t leave this bed for weeks.”
“I accept your compromise. Reluctantly.” She rolled out of his embrace and to her feet.
Elijah was right. The first order of business was to share their decision with her father.
“What do you think he’ll say?” Elijah asked.
“He’ll be thrilled,” she replied without hesitation, then frowned. “That is, I hope he will be. He thought this union would heal the rift between our families. When he finds out your father has no intention of ending the feud...”
“We did heal the rift.” Elijah took her hands and pressed her fingers to his lips. “You and I are on the same side. If my father wants to keep up a one-man feud of his own making... Then we let him be miserable.”
“From what I understand, the conflict began when your father married. He and Papa divided their shared farm and became rivals instead of partners.” Olive opened her wardrobe. “Ironically, with our marriage, Papa ‘wins’ the final battle, since our union is the last thing your father wants.”
“We win. Father isn’t ready to give up his vengeance plots, but it’s too bad. None of us is playing the game anymore.” Elijah helped her into a gown, then attended to his own attire. “If I had known the best revenge would be marrying the girl I’d been in love with since I was sixteen...”
“You were not!” Olive’s cheeks flushed hot as she unbarred the bedroom door. “You barely knew me then.”
“I was precocious,” he protested, and held out his elbow. “I thought you were the woman of my dreams, and I was right.”
She looped her arm through his. “Very well, Mr. Right. Shall we tell my father?”
When they arrived at the breakfast table, a newspaper and an empty plate sat before her father. Papa rose to his feet when he saw them.