The Lass Who Kissed a Frog, Lee, Caroline [i have read the book a hundred times .txt] 📗

That’s right, he had been apologizing, hadn’t he? “Ye certainly had a poor opinion of me, did ye no’?”

“I did,” he agreed quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“And I am sorry for giving ye reason to have such a poor opinion of me. I can understand why ye might’ve wanted to hurt me in return.”

“Never!” he gasped, pulling suddenly so she took a small step closer. “I swear to ye, Vanessa, I never wanted to hurt ye.”

“Ye wanted to humiliate me,” she reminded him, proud of the way she kept her voice steady.

To her surprise, he nodded in agreement. “I did. I wanted ye to understand what yer prejudices had cost ye, but I never wanted to hurt ye beyond that. My plan was to reveal myself, and when ye begged my forgiveness for the horrible way ye’d treated me, to stick my nose in the air and saunter off, content in the knowledge of a job well done.”

Before she could respond—not that she quite knew how to—he hurried on.

“But ye treated me kindly, even though I was a stranger to ye. No’ just that first day, but the next as well. And then on our journey…” He lifted her hands, bringing them close enough to clasp against his chest, and the intensity in his gaze told her this hadn’t been part of his planned speech. “I saw ye werenae haughty and self-centered, Vanessa. I saw ye cared deeply, even for those ye didnae ken, and were willing to undergo hardships for the sake of those ye loved.”

In her chest, she was certain her heart was stuttering. She’d been so certain she’d never get a chance to apologize to this man, much less tell him how she felt about him…and here he was, pouring out his feelings…to her?

“Roland,” she whispered.

Holding both her hands in one of his, he touched her cheek gently with the other. Unlike when she’d sat in front of the mirror upstairs, she felt this touch…felt it clear to her soul.

“Vanessa, ye are a beautiful woman, aye, but yer heart is even more beautiful. I’m sorry I had to be the one to point that out to ye—and dinnae deny it. Yer mother, the woman who is supposed to raise ye to believe in yer worth, focused entirely on yer beauty, did she no’? But it is yer heart which makes up who ye truly are. Yer heart makes ye loveable and loving.”

Her breath caught. Was he saying…?

“Roland, what ye did…” She hesitated, then decided she needed to say it all, here and now. “I was hurt and embarrassed, no’ because of how I treated ye, but because I’d given ye cause to make ye think ye needed to hurt me in return.” She shook her head. “That was convoluted, I’m sorry. I meant…” She took a deep breath and met his eyes. “I kenned I deserved yer trick, although I’m glad ye came to ken my true self. But what hurt was kenning that the man I was coming to love had so thoroughly proven we couldnae be together.”

His eyes had widened. “Love?” he murmured.

“I thought I loved Viscount Blabloblal after only a few dances. But when ye snubbed me, I realized what I felt had been infatuation, based on a charming smile and an impressive title.”

“I’m handsome too.”

“Aye, verra,” she intoned solemnly. “But my Froggie taught me love was based, no’ on appearances or wealth, but how a person could make me laugh, and whom I trusted. I realized I wanted more than just a handsome face. And even though I’d kenned Froggie for such a short time, I realized he was the sort of man I’d like to spend my forever with.”

Roland looked endearingly hesitant when he asked, “And now, Vanessa? Now that ye ken the viscount and the frog are one and the same?”

“I think…” She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I think I’d like the chance to love both of them. The charmer with the handsome smile, and the adventurer with the thrilling bare knees.”

“Ye think my knees are thrilling?”

She shrugged. “Most of yer legs actually. And yer neck.” Her gaze landed on the body part in question. “Until I met Froggie, I hadn’t realized a man’s neck could make me feel all warm inside. Oh, and yer forearms. And lips.”

“Hell, lass! Is there any part of me ye havenae admired?” he grumbled good-naturedly.

“I didnae care for yer beard, milord.”

“Did ye happen to notice I shaved it off? And I’m wearing a kilt?”

“Aye.” She made a show of dragging her gaze over him, although they were standing too close for it to be effective. “And I find I dinnae mind ye looking just a wee bit barbaric after all, milord.” Although to be truthful, he looked far more civilized than she’d guessed a man could look in a kilt. “It suits ye.”

With a sound which might’ve been a growl, he pulled her flush against him. Beneath his kilt, she could feel the firm result of her admiration.

“Lass, ye tempt me to forget the rest of my purpose here.”

“I’m sorry,” she murmured demurely, breathlessly, although she was anything but.

“Our little journey changed me as well, Vanessa. I realized I didnae want the beauties who thought only to charm me for my estate and title. I began to seriously consider a marriage built on mutual understanding and trust might be a better future.”

She pushed herself up on her toes. “And love?” she murmured; her lips close to his.

“Aye, and love. But no’ yet.”

With that, he tore away from her, leaving her swaying, as he stalked across the room to the mantel. As he reached to pull down a box she didn’t recognize, Vanessa’s knees finally gave up the fight, and she sank down into a nearby chair.

She’d been so close to closing her lips around his. She’d confessed her love to him, for the love of God! And he’d said…not yet?

But then he was in front of her once more, sinking