My hero in my current WIP has finally faced up to his feelings, so this week, I’m seeking excerpts where the hero (or, if you prefer, the heroine) declares their love. Mine is from my Fire and Frost novella which is the title of the next Bluestocking Belles’ anthology of new stories.
She invited him to serve himself, while she fixed him the coffee that he asked for. As he filled his plate, he asked, “If we are not to stand on ceremony, I wonder if I might beg you to call me Hamner. Or even, should you wish it, Charles.”
Matilda paused, his cup in her hand, then gathered her scattered wits and passed it to him. “You are very kind, Lo– Hamner.”
He shook his head. “Not kind at all. You called me pompous, Matilda. You had the right of it, but I am trying to amend. May I call you Matilda?”
Matilda cast a glance at the maid, but she had her head bent low over her mending and was did not appear to be taking any notice of them.
“Just when we are alone,” Hamner cajoled. “Or am I being an idiot again? I thought… I hoped that you might be coming to care for me as I do for you.”
“I had no idea.” Matilda lifted her chin, her lips firming as she remembered last year’s tears. “Have we not travelled this path once before, my lord? You made your opinion of me clear at that time, did you not?”
His clear blue eyes met hers. If she did not guard her heart, he would break it all over again, but he sounded sincere. “I was a fool, and worse than a fool. A pompous prig, you said, and that hurt. Because you were right.”
“You kissed me then spurned me and proposed to another woman,” she reminded him.
“Ah.” The colour rose in his face and he looked down at the coffee cup, dwarfed by his large capable hands. “You are Lady Felicity’s friend. Of course, you know about that.”
“What? You hoped to deceive me?”
“Not that!” The cup clattered as his hands shook, and he put it down on the side table. “I hoped I could explain it before you knew what an ass I had been. To burn for one woman and propose to another, as if they were interchangeable? My mother tells me I deserve for you to send me away and never speak to me again, but I hope to convince you that I have learned from my stupidity.”
Almost without her volition, Matilda’s head shook, slowly, more in disbelief than negation. “You despise the circumstances of my birth. You do not believe I would reflect credit to your name. Your words, Lord Hamner.”
Hamner leaned forward as if he would grasp her hands, but stopped short of reaching for them. His voice vibrated with passion. “Do I regret that your birth has barred you from all the respect you deserve? Yes. You are the daughter of a duke, raised by a duchess, and a lady of uncommon intelligence, grace, and ability. You act always with propriety and dignity. You should take precedence with others of your rank, and I am indignant that you cannot. You would grace the name of the highest in the land. I was an ignorant fool to think otherwise, and an uncouth lout to say what I did. Though I hope my actual words were kinder, Matilda.”
“Perhaps.” She pursed her lips. “However, you agree that I took your meaning. As an apology for that kiss—I was humiliated, Charles, and I do not see how you expect me to forget it.”
She only realised that she had slipped into calling him by his given name when his eyes lit up, but he did not capitalise on the error. “Not forget. But may I hope for forgiveness? In time? Give me leave to prove my sincerity by my devotion? I mean marriage, Matilda, in case you are in doubt. Yesterday, I saw you in danger, and I knew I could not be happy without you. I spoke to your brother, but he said some of what you have said, and told me that I would need to make my own petition to you. The choice of whether I am permitted to be your friend and your suitor is entirely yours.”
“I do not know how to answer you.” Hamner opened his mouth again, but Matilda held up her hand. “Enough. Lord Hamner, I shall think on what you have said, but we shall not speak of it again today.”