“I wish I could believe you,” she whispered.
“What’s stopping you?” he demanded, displaying the quick temper she’d spotted briefly the day they went boating and again at the picnic. But he was just as quick to regain control, and experience had taught Clarice the difference between a passionate temper and a callous one. And Cameron hadn’t a callous bone in his body.
“What cause have I given you to doubt my word? Ever?” he asked now.
“None,” she said honestly. “But you walked away. When I told you I am…fr-frigid”—she had to force the word out—“you walked away.”
“You told me to walk away.”
The look on his face sparked her guilt. At the time, she’d been certain permission to leave was what he wanted. But now she wasn’t so sure.
“Regardless,” he said, “it’s sorry I am that I did walk away.” His hazel eyes looked so earnest, she couldn’t doubt him. “I needed to think it through; I’ll admit to that, Clarice. In that very moment I wasn’t certain of my feelings. But now I know my heart. I’ve told you the truth, and I’ve never lied to you before, so I’ll thank you not to accuse me of it now.” His hands squeezed hers. “What you have to offer is enough. I cannot live without you—not happily, at least.”
All at once, rather than seeming too young, he seemed wise beyond his years. For all his boyish looks and charm, truly he was a man. Next to him, Clarice felt young and untried, frightened of the future—yet even more afraid to refuse her one chance at true happiness.
“What do you say?” Cameron stopped, right there in the middle of the dance. “Will you become my handfasted wife, Clarice Bradford? Tonight? For day after tomorrow I leave for my castle, and I’ll be wanting to take you with me. You and Mary.”
“She’ll think she’s a princess.”
“Nothing will make me happier than she be my princess. Except, of course, if you’ll be my wife. Lady Leslie. It has a nice ring to it, aye?” His smile made her heart turn over. “The glass shoe fits you, Clarice. You deserve to wear it.”
“The glass shoe would never fit.” She glanced down at the hem of the gorgeous gown, thankful its flounce was plenty long to hide her plain black slippers. He hadn’t thought to bring her proper dress shoes, and for that he’d apologized profusely, though she suspected he’d wanted to but hadn’t been able to find ones that fit her big feet.
Not that she’d have chosen to wear formal shoes, anyway. She could barely perform the new dances in flat shoes, let alone heels.
“It fits,” he insisted.
It still sounded impossible. She’d be living in a castle. Dazed, she glanced around Cainewood’s enormous great hall: the polished plank floor, the tapestries on the walls, the intricate oak hammerbeam ceiling. The chamber exuded a stately majesty she could never aspire to live up to.
“Leslie Castle is nothing like this,” Cam said, reading her mind as only he could. “Nothing. It isn’t ancient like this, but nearly new—Caithren’s father built it. It boasts naught but fifteen rooms, small rooms, none of them anything like the massive chambers here. It’s but a fortified house, really, built to look like a castle.”
“Fifteen rooms,” she murmured. “Naught but fifteen rooms.” Her lips curved in a wry smile. “I’ve only ever lived in one.”
“Don’t worry—I will hire someone to clean it for you. You won’t be expected to break your back making our castle a home.”
Good heavens, she would have a servant? Whoever would have thought it?
But of course she would. She would be Lady Leslie.
“Will you marry me, Clarice? Please. Tonight. Right now.” Dropping one of her hands, he pulled a white ribbon from his surcoat pocket. “Mary is waiting for your answer.”
“Mary?” She glanced up to the gallery, and her daughter waved again. “Mary knows you wish to do this tonight?”
“Well, now, while we were waiting for you in the carriage, she asked again about the bear. She was afraid it might be dangerous.” He grinned, displaying the dimples that reminded her he was young. But wise, she reminded herself. So very wise. Not to mention handsome and charming. “So I explained to her about bearing witness, and what a very important job that would be. She assured me she is mature enough to manage it.”
“Oh,” she said, her free hand rising to trace the curve of the unfamiliar pearls around her neck. She felt overwhelmed, pressured from all sides. And within herself. She’d been so sure she wanted to be free of men, just she and Mary making a life for themselves. But Cam would leave on Sunday, and she knew if he left alone, he’d be taking her heart along with him.
She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath, uncertain of her answer until she opened them. Then, “Yes,” she whispered. “I will be honored to become handfasted to you, Cameron Leslie. Tonight.”
He let out a whoop that had heads turning as he pulled her from the great hall.
Laughing, she ran after him, and his cousin, Lady Cainewood, came running after them both.
“Cam! What are you up to?”
He stopped in the entry, a three-story stone chamber graced with impossibly tall columns and a magnificent staircase. “Getting handfasted, cousin. Right now.”
“Without asking me to attend? How dare you?” His cousin’s words sounded stern, but her hazel eyes, so like his, were dancing conspiratorially. “Where? I must fetch Jason.”
“Not Lord Cainewood,” Clarice begged under her breath. “I couldn’t…”
“You alone, Cait.” Cameron started up the steps. “Mary will be the second witness.”
Without hesitation, Lady Cainewood followed. When they reached the top of the stairs, Mary came running down the corridor and threw herself into Cam’s arms. “Did she say yes?”
“Aye, princess, she did. Aren’t we lucky?”
“Can I call you Papa?”
He froze in his tracks, his face a mask of surprise. “I would
