To Romance a Charming Rogue

have an excellent factor who manages the estate so I am not obliged to.”

“Let me guess. You have avoided your home all these years because Joshua died there.”

There was no need for him to reply since she had hit on the truth.

“Perhaps,” Eleanor suggested, “you should spend some time there. It would give you a chance to summon back the good memories.”

He didn't respond, although he knew she had a point.

“Was Joshua much like you?” Eleanor asked. “Did you look exactly alike?”

“We were spitting images.”

“Was he a vexing rogue like you?”

Damon gave a soft huff of laughter. “He could be. Joshua was far from a saint. The pranks he used to play on me were devilishly wicked.”

“And I'll wager you played similar pranks on him. You must have been a double terror to your parents.”

His mouth curved faintly. Then his smile slipped as sadness washed over him. “He was so full of life, so vital.”

“Just like you,” Eleanor murmured. Startling Damon, she turned to him and flung her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight, fierce hug.

She held him that way for a long while, and Damon allowed it, pressing his face into her hair. The pain started to ease a small measure as he accepted-no, welcomed-the solace Elle offered him.

Yet it soon became clear that she was not only set on comforting him but on exhorting him.

“You must forgive yourself, Damon,” she murmured in his ear. “You have to let go if you are ever to begin healing. Isn't that what Joshua would have wished for you? Do you honestly think he would have wanted you to punish yourself all these years?”

He knew the answer to that question, Damon realized as a forgotten memory pushed its way into his mind: that final day of his brother's life, when he'd bent down to hear Joshua's last words to him.

“Live… for… me,” he rasped through his cracked lips.

Damon swallowed against the constriction in his throat. He had buried that painful memory along with all his other emotions.

“No,” Damon responded in a raw voice. “My brother would not want me to keep punishing myself. He would have wanted me to live life to the fullest.”

“Of course he would,” Eleanor said with conviction. “Still, you are the only one who can grant yourself absolution, Damon. Until then you will continue denying yourself any chance for real happiness, and me as well. That is why I want to throttle you,” she whispered fiercely even as she clung to him.

Grasping her arms in a gentle grip, Damon extricated himself from her embrace and held her away. “My throat is entirely at your disposal, Elle, but I would rather you delay your craving for violence for a moment. I have something to say to you. A confession, if you will.”

When she eyed him warily, Damon held her gaze steadily in return. “You asked me why I kept my recent meeting with Lydia a secret from you. It's because I didn't want to drive you away again, as I foolishly did two years ago.”

“Foolishly?” Eleanor said slowly. “You think inciting me to end our betrothal was foolish?”

Damon responded with a wry twist of his lips. “Foolish, imbecilic, idiotic, dimwitted-and yes, craven. And I regret it more than I can ever say.”

She drew a shaky breath. “I was so afraid you intended to return to Lydia, Damon.”

“I am sorry, sweetheart.” Seeing the bruises in the depths of her eyes, the vulnerability, Damon damned himself for causing Eleanor pain. He'd cherished her, but he'd deliberately hurt her, both then and now. He would make it up to her, he swore silently.

As she stared at him, he clasped her hand more tightly, entwining their fingers. “You had me dead to rights, Elle. I never wanted to care that much for anyone again, to allow myself to hurt that way. So when I realized how close I was growing to you during our betrothal, I reacted out of fear. These past two weeks, however, I've experienced a revelation. Not having you in my life is far more painful than the risk of losing you.”

It was Eleanor's turn to swallow. “Damon, it isn't possible to have a future with no pain, no regrets, no unhappiness.”

“I know, but with you, my odds of happiness are infinitely greater. You are my happiness. I love you, Elle.”

Biting her lower lip, she searched his face as if not daring to believe. “You love me? Are you certain?”

Damon reached up to stroke her cheek. “Utterly absolutely certain. I fought against it, God knows. The entire time I was in Italy, I tried to dismiss you from my mind. I wanted to forget all about you, but it was hopeless. And when I returned to find you being courted by that Lothario… I couldn't let you wed him and walk out of my life forever. I couldn't lose you again when you were the only woman I could ever hope to love.”

Tears sprang to her eyes. “I think I must be dreaming. You truly love me?”

He smiled. “I never had any other choice, Elle. You made me feel again, whether I wanted to or not… joy, hope, passion, love.”

The knowledge burned inside him with searing power. After the many numb years, he had opened his heart again. Because of Eleanor he felt whole again.

“You fill the emptiness in my heart,” he said softly. “I know that now. Without you, Elle, I was simply existing. I don't want to live like that, merely surviving day to day.”

“Oh, Damon…” she breathed.

He cupped her cheek. “I am sorry it took me so long to recognize my feelings for you. I'm sorry to have let you think I betrayed you. I lost something precious when I lost your trust, but I hope to earn it back someday.”

Her lower lip quivered. “I feared you wanted Lydia for your mistress again,” she repeated.

“I don't want Lydia, Elle-not in the slightest. She doesn't make my heart pound as you do. She doesn't make me look forward to each new day. She doesn't provoke and challenge me and kindle a jealous rage in me when she merely looks at another man. She doesn't intrigue me or constantly make me guess what unconventional thing she will say or do next. She doesn't own my heart the way you do, my lovely Eleanor.”

The sheer relief in her beautiful face humbled him.

“You are every man's dream,” Damon murmured. “You are my dream. You have been since the moment you shoved me in this fountain. How could I not want you?”

She smiled, truly smiled, the kind of smile that made his heart turn over. And some of her lively spirit reappeared in her tone when she quizzed him. “Did you honestly think I would allow you to return to Lydia without a fight, Damon? I am warning you, you will keep a mistress over my dead body-and yours, too.”

“You needn't worry on that score. I will never look at another woman again. I am too afraid of losing you.”

Eleanor gazed back at him solemnly. “You will never lose me, Damon. I love you too much. I have since the moment I met you. Even my aunt noticed. Do you know what she just told me? That I glow when I am with you.”

It was true that she was glowing, Damon thought, gazing at her beautiful face. What he saw there tightened his chest with emotion.

When he started to speak, however, Eleanor pressed a hand against his lips. “But, Damon… if we are to have a true marriage, you cannot keep secrets from me and hide your feelings. You have to trust me and tell me what is troubling you.”

“I will.”

“I will always be there with you when you have nightmares.”

“I am glad.”

Her expression turned somber. “No one can ever replace your brother in your heart, but I would love to be your dearest friend as well as your wife.”

“You already are, Elle.”

“Good.”

“Then you will forgive me?” Damon asked quietly.