Page 72 of The Raven’s Lady

He took the lavender sprig and tossed it in the water, and took her hand in his. “And you think this because?”

She gave him an earnest gray gaze. “Because you should know that I deserved the things people said about me.”

He doubted that. “Do you think my knowing your history will alter my feelings for you?”

She shook her head. “No. I don’t doubt your love. You are constant, but…” She patted the stone rim of the fountain, and he sat beside her. She folded her hands in her lap, drew in a breath, and began in her usual forthright way. “I was infatuated. I’m sure everyone else could see it, but I could not. I let my world narrow to him. I never really saw him for who he was. I just floated on a little cloud of his attentions for weeks, ignoring everyone else. Honoria tried her best to wake me up to my folly, but I wouldn’t listen. Even when we returned to Verwood, I could think only of myself, of my hurt, and so I rode Hermes too far, too often.”

For a moment she seemed lost in the past, then she turned to him, her eyes clear again, shining. “You see, I think love, genuine love, is meant to connect us to others.”

“Done?” He stood, and dropped down to his knees in front of her in the grass. Taking hold of her injured foot, he gently unloosed the boot, and slid it from her foot.

“What are you doing?” she asked, trying to pull the captured foot from his grip.

“I am making love to you, in the only way I can until you are truly mine.”

She stopped tugging.

He held her damaged foot in his hands. “My turn,” he said. “I, too, was infatuated, with a perfect picture, an artificial creation. I had no true interest in knowing Amabel. I wanted to be accepted by her world, and she seemed to invite me in. Then I came to Verwood, and you were before me every day, but I didn’t, couldn’t see you at first. What you are is yourself, strong and gentle. You are you perfected, and if this, this poor foot helped you become the woman I love, then I must love it, too.”

“Oh.”

He laughed. He rested her white-stockinged foot against his thigh. The touch of her foot there sent a bolt of desire straight to his groin. He steadied himself and slowly drew her pale blue muslin skirts up over her knees. He felt her hands settle on his head, her fingers slipping into his hair. Again, he paused to collect himself.

“Prepare to be shocked,” he said.

“Shock me,” she whispered.

He slid his palms up her thigh to the garter that held her stocking in place against the softest, silkiest of skin. She stiffened and then relaxed. He was crazy, but he meant to show her how perfect she was for him. His pulse hammering, he untied the garter and brushed it aside. Slowly he rolled the stocking down her leg, letting his thumbs trail along the smooth muscled flesh. She began to tremble, but she didn’t stop him until he reached her ankle. Her grip tightened on his head.

He looked up and met her gaze. “I love you, Cassie,” he said.

She nodded, and he peeled away the stocking to examine the foot, the trim ankle, the perfect toes, and in the middle a bony hump, gnarled and twisted like a tree stump. He did not look away. That lump was a sign of the hurt and shame of her past. He knew she had looked at it every day since her accident. Slowly, he dipped his head and planted his kiss there. His kiss could not melt away the misshapen bone, but he hoped it would melt away the old sense of unworthiness that haunted her.

When he looked up, he saw her eyes shining with tears.

He leaned back and got to his feet, pulling her up into his arms, pressing her head to his chest. She sobbed quietly, clinging to him. A breeze blew drops from the fountain over them as it had the day of their tea when she’d let her hat be carried away. She lifted her face to his and let him kiss her as deeply as he wished.

Only the ring in his pocket stopped him, but at last, he drew her back to their stony seat. “I have something to ask you,” he said.

“Do you? May I put my shoe back on?”

He nodded, watching as she deftly restored her stocking, shoe, and skirts to order. “You know this proposal business is harder than I imagined.”

“Perhaps it only works when one is truly in love.”

He took her hand and knelt again. “I love you, Cassie, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

“Yes, Raven.

*

Cassie kept the secret of her betrothal as a special bouquet of happiness that was hers alone to enjoy for about two hours. Over tea that evening, lost in thoughts of Raven, she was called to attention by Grandmama. She looked up, and knew at once that she’d given the thing away.

Grandmama and Honoria demanded to see the ring, and Grandmama immediately began to order and arrange wedding clothes, guest lists, wedding breakfast menus, and wedding trip plans. Cassie only laughed and said that she and Raven could manage, thank you.

“Well,” said Grandmama, “Don’t forget that I had a hand in all this when I said he had to have your approval for his improvements.”

Cassie crossed the room and gave her grandmother a quick kiss, the most affection her stiff nature ever allowed. “And we are most grateful, Grandmama.”