His eye sought hers. He leaned toward her until his face was only a handbreadth from hers. “Tell me the truth, Annabel. Do you want to be a nun?”
She didn’t even have to think about it. She shook her head. “No, I don’t. Please don’t send me away, my lord.” She clasped her hands in front of her in a pleading gesture.
He sat back in his chair, drawing back again and looking away. He spoke in a lethargic voice. “Sir Clement said truth and justice were the most important thing. But we both realized it isn’t. Love and mercy are much greater.” After a short pause, he met her gaze again. “Love tears out your heart, but pain is better than bitterness.”
The look on Lord le Wyse’s face revived her hope. He did love her. Oh, he must! Why else would he look that way? He needed her love. But whether he did or didn’t, she wouldn’t hold in the truth any longer. She had to speak or her heart would leap out of her chest.
She seized his good hand, caressing his large fingers between her palms, and spoke quickly. “I love you. I’m so sorry I didn’t realize it before. Pray, don’t send me away. You’re the dearest person in the world to me.” She raised his hand to her lips and kissed it reverently.
His shoulders straightened. His gaze bore into her, as though he hadn’t seen her until that moment. His forehead creased in a pained expression. “You love me? How …?”
“I do love you, I do.” She blinked rapidly to keep the tears from flooding her eyes.
“What about this?” He held up his crippled hand.
She grabbed it and pressed an eager kiss into his palm. She leaned closer, rising from her knees, and pressed his hand to her cheek, her heart fluttering at the warmth of his skin against hers.
“Annabel.” His voice was low and rough.
“Your scars only make you dearer to me, reminding me of what a hero you are. My eyes behold the most handsome man in the world. I love you. Please say you love me too.” Her voice broke. She bit her lip and held her breath as she waited for his answer.
He leaned toward her, his face only a breath away. His intense look captured her fully.
His words rumbled from his chest. “If you love me, kiss me.”
Her stomach leapt. Even so, she didn’t hesitate. If he wanted proof, she would gladly prove her love with a kiss. She clutched his upper arms and pressed her lips against his.
His mouth was warm and moved ever so slightly beneath hers, creating the most pleasant sensation she’d ever known, radiating all the way to her fingertips. Her insides melted like butter over the fire.
Breathless, she pulled away. His expression was pleasant surprise mingled with gentle longing. He focused on her lips. The request was plain. She leaned forward and complied, kissing him again.
His arms went around her and pulled her against his chest. Her feet no longer touched the floor, but she hardly noticed. His hand sank into her hair at the back of her head as his lips moved over hers, kissing and enticing her to kiss him back, to deepen the connection between them.
Thank you, God, for this. Thank you that I’m no longer afraid.
Ranulf poured his soul into the kiss. His arms shook as he held her close and he had to force himself to pull away and look at her. Her hair fell about her cheeks. Her lips parted and her expression was one of mingled shyness and wonder.
She whispered, “You do love me, don’t you?”
He moaned. “I love you — “ Unable to go on, he took a few raspy breaths as he gazed into her blue eyes. “I tried not to love you, but … even a man with a heart of stone, like me, couldn’t resist you.”
Her eyes glistened, and she placed her palm against his beard. He turned his head and kissed her fingers.
“You never had a heart of stone.”
“You must admit, I wasn’t kind to you at first.”
“But why?”
“I was bitter. I didn’t believe any woman could love me, as disfigured as I am, and especially anyone as beautiful as you are, inside and out. I still can hardly believe it.” He stroked her cheek with two fingertips, his breath catching in his throat at the softness of her skin. He pulled her down into his lap. Instead of resisting, she snuggled against his shoulder.
She lifted her head enough to gaze into his eyes.
“I thought the way I was feeling about you was wrong because you were my lord and I was only a servant, and I thought I wanted to go to the convent and never marry. But now I know I never would have been content at the abbey, after knowing you and loving you. I loved being close to you and talking to you.”
He pulled her closer, and she rested her forehead against his neck.
“I wasn’t sure I could ever give love to a man, after what Bailiff Tom did.” She placed a hand against his chest. “But you … you were so noble, so kind …” She stroked his beard with her fingertips. “I want to make up for every cruel thing that has happened to you.”
Her words seemed to come to him through a dream. They filled his heart with a strange peace.