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Anthony wakes first.
The blanket he’d haphazardly thrown over them as Kate drifted off has shifted with her movements. He feels a thrill run through him at the realization that in her sleep, she’s tucked herself as close to him as possible, her legs intertwined with his and her hand flat on his chest. He still feels a bit like he’s in a dream. There’s no possible way that Kate feels the same way he does, that she stayed after everything, that she told him, breathlessly and repeatedly, do not stop . He is beginning to understand what all those poets Benedict loves ramble on about: he’s sure that he has stars in his eyes when he looks down and sees Kathani Sharma in his arms.
Kathani . Another thrill runs through him at the memory of her whispering her given name, a treasured secret meant only for his ears. He had been intending to tell her that he wanted to marry her, that this wasn’t just a release of the sexual tension that had been plaguing them for weeks, when she had interrupted with that knowledge. No further words had been needed; he was positive she wouldn’t have shared such a connection to her homeland with him had she not felt the same. He thinks of the way his own given name had sounded coming from her mouth, having only heard it once before. He infinitely preferred it being used to beg in this instance over that awful morning in the woods. If he had known then everything that was to come, would he still have given in to her impassioned plea? Would she still have ended up in his arms tonight if he hadn’t?
He knows that the proper thing to do is wake her. In theory, anybody could see them, and her mother and sister must be wondering where she is. But in practicality, he knows that the gazebo is tucked so far on the edge of the property that the chance of getting caught is slim to none, and that if Mary and Edwina had really been worried, they never would have left without making sure Kate was with them. His temper starts to flare at the reminder that her family is treating her like the villain in all of this. She had done nothing but love her family in the best way she could, same as him. He is the only one that should be blamed for this mess. He had loved her from the moment he first raced her in the park, and if he hadn’t been so blind, so absolutely committed to saving someone else the grief that had consumed him since he was 18, then he would never have courted Edwina at all.
A sick feeling takes over as he realizes that, in his attempt to shield others from grief, he’s caused it for Kate anyways. He is the reason her bond with her sister has been ruined. He’s seen the distance Edwina puts between them now, the way Kate seems to have wilted, her fire muted by the lack of sisterly affection that has always been present. He does not have much experience in mourning the loss of someone who is still alive, but he thinks of how it felt to hear that she would be returning to India: the way the breath was knocked out of him, the feeling that losing a limb would be less painful than never seeing her again. He can only imagine that to lose her sister in this way elicits a similar feeling, and he has brought about that destruction.
Anthony takes a deep breath, trying to stop his racing thoughts. Kate is here, sleeping in his arms. It does not matter how they ended up here, only that they did. She’s here, and she’s yours, he reminds himself. You’ll be able to rectify all of this.
The arm that was around Kate’s waist moves up her body slightly, catching the dark strands that brush against her elbow. He tangles his fingertips in the ends of her hair, remembering the way it felt to cradle the back of her head as she had traced the waistband of his breeches, how he’d brushed the curls off her shoulder so he could kiss the spot where that damned bee had stung her. He’s struck by an image of their little girl, with Kate’s curls and knowing smirk, and his heart begins to race in anticipation of their life to come. He loves her quite madly, he thinks. And for the first time, he can begin to understand why his mother could not pull herself out of her grief when his father died. If anything happened to Kate, he would forever be a shadow of himself. He would do everything in his power to prevent such a tragedy; the world was infinitely brighter with Kathani Sharma in it.
He shifts his weight to his forearm, doing his best to sit up enough to reach the blanket without disturbing Kate. Her fingers curl on his chest, and she murmurs something that sounds suspiciously like his name. He pulls the blanket back up over them, then intertwines his free hand with Kate’s, bringing their joined hands up to his lips, testing out the words while in the safety of the night.
I love you .
It feels like he’s lit from within as the words come out, and he can hardly wait for morning, when he’ll be able to tell her, have her by his side while they navigate their way to their own courtship and marriage without ruining their families for good. Everything, he is beginning to realize, is made better when Kate is there, even the insufferable politics of the ton. With a soft kiss to the back of her hand, he sets their intertwined fingers back on his chest. He wants to stay awake a little longer, to live in this sacred moment that’s just for them, but the scent of lilies draws him back into a comforting sleep, where the only thing he dreams of is Kate.