“
And then he saw her burning eyes. They gazed at him calmly and he saw in them benediction.
He fell to his knees before her, pressing his face to her purple-velvet-clad-belly. "Séraphine, Séraphine, Séraphine. O most beloved of women, most fiery of saints, never leave me, please. I'll erect columns of white marble to you, build gardens of delight for you, cause ships to sail and warriors to rise for you, if you'll only remain by my side."
She smiled down at him and cupped his cheeks. "Valentine, do you love me?"
Ah, God, it was like a shot to the gut.
He squeezed tight his eyes. To come so close and lose her because of this. "If I were able I would love you as no man has ever loved a woman since the beginning of time."
She knelt then to face him and whispered, "But you are able."
He clutched her. He wouldn't let her go, no, not even when she realized... "Séraphine, my darling, burning one, do you not remember? I told you, so long ago now, that I lacked that part. I cannot-"
"But you can, Valentine." She touched a finger to his cheek and then showed it to him.
He blinked.
Her finger was wet. His eyes were wet.
She smiled at him, his burning Séraphine, and it was as if the night sky were ablaze. "You love me."
"I love you," he said in wonder, and felt his chest fill with warmth. "I love you."
"And I love you," she whispered, her hands cupping his face.
So he kissed her until she was limp and pliable and so very hot against him, and then he purred into her ear, "Does that mean you'll become my duchess, darling Bridget Crumb?"
And when she sighed back, "Oh, yes, Val," he picked her up and carried her off to have his wicked, wicked way with her.
Because he might have a heart now but some things weren't ever going to change.
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