CHAPTER 103: CHAPTER HUNDRED AND THREE

Carcel reached for her hand—the one with the ink stain on the finger. He lifted it.

He brought her knuckles to his lips. He placed a gentle, lingering kiss on them, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Every day," he whispered against her skin. "Every morning when we wake up. Every night before we sleep. I will show you that I love you. Until you are so tired of hearing it, you beg me to stop."

Ines felt her heart melting. It was a physical sensation, a warmth spreading through her chest.

"I won’t," she whispered. "I won’t beg you to stop."

Carcel smiled against her hand.

He shifted his grip, holding her waist tightly, bringing her even closer to himself until there was no space between them. He wanted her to feel his heart beating. He wanted her to feel the truth of him.

"So, Lady Hamilton," he said, his voice dropping to a low, formal tone that was ruined by the love in his eyes.

He tilted his head.

"Will you marry me now?" he asked. "Or do you still want to call off the marriage and run away to write books?"

Ines looked at him.

She looked at the man who had read her scandalous stories and called them beautiful. She looked at the man who had taken a beating for her secret. She looked at the man who had bought her lavender because she mentioned the sea once.

She didn’t need to think. She didn’t need a list of questions.

She smiled. It was a radiant, tearful smile.

Ines wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck.

"I do," she whispered. "I do want to marry you. More than anything."

Carcel let out a breath of pure relief. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against hers.

"Good," he breathed. "Because I was running out of ideas. I was about to start reciting poetry, and I am terrible at poetry."

Ines laughed, a happy, bubbling sound. "I have a book of poetry you can borrow. You gave it to me."

"I’ll stick to the French lessons," he murmured.

He pulled back slightly. His gaze dropped to her lips.

"Speaking of lessons," he said, his voice dropping to a husky growl. "I believe we have some... catching up to do. We missed a few sessions."

Ines blushed, but she didn’t look away. "Is that so?"

"Yes," Carcel said. "For example... the kiss of a fiancé. It is different from the kiss of a teacher."

"Is it?" Ines asked, her heart racing.

"Much different," Carcel promised.

And then, he showed her exactly he meant. He grabbed her neck and kissed her.

The kiss ended slowly. They didn’t pull far apart. They couldn’t. Carcel kept his arms wrapped tight around her waist, and Ines kept hers looped around his neck, anchoring herself to him.

They rested their foreheads together, breathing the same air. It was a quiet, heavy moment of peace after the storm of their confession.

Ines traced the short hair at the nape of his neck with her fingertips. She had one question left. One mystery that didn’t fit the story he had just told her.

"Carcel," she whispered, her voice vibrating in the small space between them. "When did you start loving me? Truly?"

Carcel closed his eyes. He didn’t need to think about the answer. He had lived with it for years.

"It was before I went to war," he admitted, his voice low and rough.

Ines pulled back just an inch, surprised. "Before?"

He nodded. "You were young. I was young. I thought it was just... misplaced feelings. I thought it was because I was leaving, and I was holding on to everything familiar. I told myself it would pass."

He opened his eyes, looking deep into hers.

"But when I got back," he said, a small, self-deprecating smile touching his lips, "and I had that first dance with you... the one you remember... I knew. I held you, and I knew I didn’t just like you. I was in trouble."

Ines frowned slightly, the memory of the last years bubbling up.

"But after that first dance," she said, her voice tinged with the old hurt, "you have been constantly avoiding me. You ignored me at balls. You acted cold toward me. Even when... even when you broke Lord Westhaven’s hand in the garden..."

She shivered at the memory of the crack.

"You saved me," she said, "but then you wouldn’t even look at me."

Carcel’s face darkened instantly. His jaw clenched.

"Don’t talk about Westhaven," he cut her short, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. "He was lucky that day. He was lucky you were there standing behind me. If you hadn’t been... I would have killed him."

He took a deep breath, trying to control the old rage. "I wanted to tear him apart for touching you. But I had to control myself."

"But you didn’t speak to me," Ines pressed, needing to understand. "You didn’t even spare me a glance. You handed me to Rowan and walked away."

Carcel looked down, shame flickering in his eyes.

"I was afraid," he confessed. "I was afraid you would see me as a brute. I had just broken a man’s bones. I was filled with violence. I didn’t want you to look at me and see a monster. I didn’t want you to get the wrong impression of me."

Ines felt her heart soften. He had pulled away not because he didn’t care, but because he cared too much. He wanted to be perfect for her.

She reached up and caressed his cheek, her thumb brushing over the faint shadow of a bruise from Rowan’s fist.

"I could never have the wrong impression of you," she whispered fiercely. "I wasn’t scared of you that night. I was extremely grateful. But... your attitude made me sad. Your silence hurt more than any violence could."

Carcel brought her hand to his lip. He kissed the center of her palm, a gesture of absolute surrender.

"I’m sorry," he murmured against her skin. "I was a fool."

He held her hand to his face, pressing his cheek against it, looking at her with a vulnerability she had never seen before.

"Can you forgive me?" he asked. "For the silence? For the waiting?"

Ines smiled. It was a soft, radiant smile.

She leaned forward. She kissed his forehead, right between his brows, sealing her forgiveness.

"Yes," she whispered. "I forgive you."

She nodded, her eyes shining.

"Now," she said, "kiss me again."