Relentless Lord by Amy Sandas

wry tone. “I think our current circumstances prove that well enough.”
    Miles couldn’t help but grin, considering the circumstances she referred to included him lying naked half atop her flushed body. “An added bonus,” he quipped, “but my true purpose was to discuss what will be expected after tonight.”
    She slid her gaze away from his face. “You do not have to explain. I understand. I am leaving England as soon as I can. You will not have to worry about…any of this. None of it will matter once I am gone.”
    The idea of her leaving England burned his insides like a red-hot lump of coal. But he had come to her room tonight prepared to say goodbye if that was what she wanted.
    Could he really do it? Be that selfless?
    He groaned and rolled his eyes closed.
    Damn it. For her happiness, he would do that and more.
    “Honestly, Miles,” she said in a lowered tone. “You do not have to marry me.”
    “You are correct,” he said almost angrily as he opened his eyes again. “I do not have to, and if you insist, I will pen a note to your uncle rescinding the offer I made downstairs and will ride away from here before dawn.”
    Her blue gaze was wide and locked on his. In their clear depths, he thought he saw a touch of the fear he felt himself. The fear and the longing.
    He drew a ragged breath and framed her face in his hands. He brushed his thumbs over the crests of her cheekbones before pressing them to the pulse at her temples.
    “Hannah,” he said, “I want to marry you. I cannot imagine a day without you in it, let alone the rest of my life. Please say you will be my wife.”
    She stared up at him in silence for several long seconds. Then she swallowed and licked her lips. “How many other women have you claimed to love?”
    Miles’s stomach tightened. “None. I swear it.”
    She arched and imperious brow. “And how many have you proposed to so eloquently?”
    He knew then she was only tormenting him. He issued a growl and wrapped his arm around her waist. He gave a rough tug and pulled her to lie atop him until her pale hair fell about them like a curtain. With her lovely hips in his hands and her breasts swelling beautifully beneath his chin, Miles found it difficult to form a proper response, but he gave it a valiant effort.
    “There has never been and never will be another woman to ever hear those words from me.”
    But her gaze was still skeptical. “You have known me less than a week. How could you possibly love me?”
    Miles shrugged. “I am not one to question the hows and whys of things. I trust what I feel. Can you?”
    She stared down at him with her beautiful blue eyes. She would not be rushed, he knew, but Miles tensed with every second that passed. If she refused him…
    When she finally spoke, it was in the tone of someone reciting a phrase from memory. “When embarking on any journey, having companions you trust is vital, but not nearly as important as trusting your own intuition.”
    Miles arched his brows in question.
    She smiled and lowered her lips until they hovered just above his.
    “I trust you, Miles, and I trust what I feel,” she whispered, repeating his words.
    “And?” he prompted as he ran his hands up her narrow spine.
    She laughed, a soft and lovely sound. “I love you.”
    He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as her lips continued to tease his by barely brushing back and forth over the surface.
    “And?” he muttered as his pulse picked up speed.
    “I will be your wife.” Her breath bathed his lips, and the taste of her response was sweet indeed.
    Miles sighed his relief. She sealed her vow with a kiss, but as it gradually grew deeper and more impassioned, he abruptly pulled back, thinking of one last thing.
    “You must promise not to tell anyone I agreed to this marriage willingly. I cannot have my false reputation ruined with the truth.”
    Her laughter this time was a full throaty sound that vibrated up through her chest to surround him in