A delicious shiver went through her stomach at his words, hoping he meant to kiss her, but he frowned.
“Margaretha.” His hands gently wrapped around her shoulders as he leaned toward her. “We get along reasonably well, don’t you think?”
“Yes, of course.” Her heart sank.
“We were vastly good friends on the way to Marienberg, weren’t we?” There was a sharpness in his eyes as he seemed to delve into her thoughts.
“After you stopped trying to get rid of me.”
He looked sad.
“But I understand why, so it is all well.” Margaretha’s breath shallowed as she focused on his lips. “You became the best friend I’ve ever had. You were sweet and kind and courageous and . . .”
“Remember when we were in the tunnel and I said I loved you? Well, I didn’t mean I love you as a friend, Margaretha.”
Their kiss came even more sharply into her memory and she whispered, “I didn’t think you did.” She placed her palms against his chest, against the hard texture of his chain mail, imagining she could feel his heart beating under her right hand.
“I know you love your family. They are wonderful people, and it’s perfectly understandable that you wouldn’t want to leave them.” His hands tightened on her shoulders. “But I can’t leave here without you. I want to marry you and have children with you and take you back with me to England.” His expression was almost fierce as he said, “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Yes.” Oh, why didn’t he just kiss her? “I understand.”
“Will you marry me? Will you leave your family and come with me? Or must I stay here and work in the stable until your father either sends me away or takes pity on me and makes me one of his knights, so that I’ll be worthy enough to marry you?”
“I don’t want you to have to work in the stable. You aren’t very good at it, and it isn’t a worthy goal for a man who will someday be an English earl.” She lifted a finger to rub the delightfully prickly whiskers on the side of his face. “You could become one of father’s knights, since you do look very good in mail and armor and with a sword in your hand.” She smiled teasingly, leaning her forearms against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her back. “But I love you so much, I don’t feel any fear at the thought of going with you to your home in England. I want to marry you more than anything else in the world.”
“You do?” His brows went up, and his breath seemed to catch in his throat.
“I do. I know I’ll miss my family, but I would miss you too much to let you go. I want you to be my family now, for us to be a family together.”
He closed the gap between them and kissed her, more intensely this time, stealing her breath and turning her knees to mush.
He ended the kiss and she pressed her cheek against his chest, feeling the tiny circles of the chain mail. “You asked me once why I never married any of my suitors. I knew I didn’t want to live without love and passion and goodness. And you have all those things. You are what I wanted all along. The more I understood you, the more I fell in love with you. Only I didn’t even realize I was in love with you until . . . I’m not sure when, exactly.”
She leaned away to look into his eyes.
He touched her hair, and said softly, “I think I fell in love with you when you refused to let me leave you with Anne. Or maybe it was when you came and freed me from the dungeon, then fearlessly led the way through that secret tunnel.”
“You say the sweetest things.” Margaretha might have laughed if she hadn’t felt so warm and comfortable, and if she hadn’t been thinking about kissing him again. “Perhaps I fell in love with you when I saw how you took care of Toby and never complained about taking him with us. And when you held me in your arms and let me cry about how much I missed my mother. You didn’t try to take advantage of me. You didn’t scold me or get annoyed with me. You just . . . loved me.”
She kissed him. “I love you,” she whispered against his lips.
“I am sorry you must leave your family,” he whispered back.
“As long as you love me, and I am not alone, I will be happy.”
He kissed her, and she was lost in Colin again.
Someone cleared his throat. Loudly.
She looked up. Colin’s father, and her own father, were standing at the door.
Margaretha’s cheeks went hot. Colin slipped his hand in hers.
“Father,” Margaretha began, “I — ”
“I already know. Lord le Wyse wishes to marry you.”
Lord le Wyse. How noble that sounded. Had he already asked her father if he could marry her?
“We shall speak of this later,” her father said, not looking surprised, but Colin’s father’s eyes were wide and questioning as he stared at his son. “Now, let us go to the Great Hall. Cook has prepared food for us all.”
She searched her father’s face again, but he did not appear angry. He didn’t even scowl at Colin, only frowned a little.