Bronwyn Scott's Sexy Regency Bundle (259 page)

Scott

'Regardless, it was done with your best interest at heart. I regretted hurting you. I regretted denying myself happiness. But 1 won't stand here and be tongue-lashed for upholding your father's wishes and doing what was best for the family. There were no easy answers or choices, Philippa.' He was aware he'd raised his a voice in his agitation. He controlled it, bringing it down a notch. 'I feared if I told you, you would hate me and then your father would know that I had failed him.'

'I ended up hating you anyway,'

said

sharply. Her hands were knotted into fists at her sides, her voice full of impotent frustration. 'Nine years is a long time to hate, Val.'

'It's also a long time to love,' he said softly, towards her and taking her hands in his, uncurling them from their tight fists. But he knew what she meant. She could not be expected to change course suddenly. The news was too raw, too unfiltered. She had the permission she needed to trust in him again, to see him as the friend she'd once known, but it would take time. She had her permission. The rest was up to her.

relished the thought of that challenge. He would woo her gently. While she was at Roseland, he would court her as sincerely as he had once dreamed of doing. The idea of

thrilled him

enormously. This time there would be no sneaking off under the facade of excuses to steal hasty there would be no fear of being caught. He would court her openly, starting with this

Gently, he tipped her chin up and captured her

164

The Viscount Claims His Bride

face between his hands, taking a chance to drink of her countenance, the creamy skin, the brilliant blue of her eyes, the tremulous smile that played uncertainly at her lips while she waited, her own gaze searching his. Then he brushed her lips with his, softly, tenderly. This kiss lacked the roughness of their heated engagement at the folly, but was no less intense for that absence.

Slowly, he could feel her body soften, the rigid posture with which she'd held herself in her anger relaxing against him, arms finding their way around his neck as he took her weight. He'd waited his entire life for this. He'd come back for this. The darkness of his world receded in the wake of the peace that flooded through him from the simple act of holding her tight against him.

'I will not be so foolish as to let you go again,' he vowed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

'You may have to for dinner,'

joked, her

voice muffled against his shoulder.

'Well, just for dinner, then.'

The next days were heady ones for

True

to his word, he hardly let

out of his sight.

They rode in the early morning along the coastal bridle path between St Just-in-Roseland and St Mawes. They picnicked with Beldon in the hilly meadows above the St

churchyard, watching

the small wildlife run through the fields. They took long walks beside the tidal creeks that bordered Valerian's property. It seemed that he talked endlessly of his plans for the future in those days: plans

Scott

for his gardens, his landscapes, his stables. He couldn't help it. Life, full and pure, coursed through his veins again. There was purpose everywhere he looked. He was young and

with the wealth he

needed to bring his plans to fruition. . .and the woman.

was intoxicating. Her very presence in the same room could steal his attention for minutes at a time. The curve of her neck when she bent over a book during their quiet times after dinner drove him to distraction, making his hand itch to gently massage her exposed nape. The lilac scent of her light perfume lingered in the air long after passed through a corridor. Her soft music at the pianoforte lent a cultivated feel to the house, filtering through the halls from the music room.

There were signs of her presence everywhere, from the cut-crystal bowls filled with colourful flowers placed on tables

the house to the

very obvious redecorating efforts. Painters had come to paint and others had come to hang the drawing-room walls with a damask

of deep crimson. It

was more than simply noticing the difference a touch made in transforming a house into a home. Valerian was struck afresh daily that it was his home, his woman.

She smiled easily these days, she laughed, she stared at him with a dreamy look in her eyes when she thought she had him unawares. Most of all, she'd found her ease with him again. They roamed the hills, comfortable in their conversation and in their touch.

take his hand or reach out to brush a strand of hair back from his face without

166

The Viscount Claims His Bride

If he were

he'd say it was like the old days

of their youth. But those days were gone. Only a fool would think they could be reclaimed in their entirety.

These were new days, new times for them, and Valerian was not careless with that reality. He treasured each knowing look, each shared laugh as spring came to his beloved Cornwall. He'd lived too long in places where life changed at a moment's notice to discard the simple pleasures he found in Philippa's company. As the days passed, he had reason to believe she felt that way also. Her own life had not been without the pain of loss that had come too early.

On St

Day, they rode down to St

to put flowers on the graves of miners and to join in the village celebrations. The weather was fair for March and everyone for miles around had turned out for the festivities honouring the legendary hero-saint who, legend held, had imparted the wisdom of tinning to early Cornish miners a thousand years earlier.

Valerian found himself to be something of a celebrity. Although several tradesmen and day workers had been tramping up the hill to

since his

return, he'd not spent much time in the village re-establishing ties yet. He was proud to make his entrance with

at his side, looking splendid

in a rich brown riding habit trimmed in black with a small hat to match, her russet hair twisted into an exquisite knot at the back of her neck. He wanted people to get used to seeing her with him. She would be his countess soon. Valerian thought of his quietly