“When?”
“When, what?” she asked, confused.
Kam stepped closer. She suddenly was inundated by his closeness, by his long, hard body and bold features and piercing light eyes. He was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen in her life. His scent tickled her nose. She inhaled it deeply, prizing the unexpected gift of it. Of him.
“When did you start to suspect you weren’t really in love with Ian?” Kam prompted.
She met his stare and felt all the walls tumbling down.
“I didn’t realize it until now, but I think maybe . . . ever since I first saw you,” she whispered.
He mouthed something soundlessly, and then he was taking her in his arms. She hugged him tightly against her, clenching her eyes closed in the grip of powerful emotion.
“You said last night that if there was one person you knew who could contain the hurt of a broken heart, it was me,” she muttered in a rush against his chest. “But that’s not true, Kam. That’s how I knew, I really knew for a fact I never really could have been in love with Ian. Because when it feels like this,” she hugged him tighter, her voice choking, “it’s not something you could ever contain.”
“Shhh. That’s a good thing, baby. Such a good thing,” he said warmly near her ear, his hand stroking her back in a soothing motion as she gasped, out of control. “It’s going to be all right. It’s going to be better than all right. You’ll see.”
Lin nodded against his chest. She wasn’t sure how long they remained like that, clutching at each other desperately while strangers rushed past them in either direction.
She finally removed her pressing cheek from his chest and looked into his face. Despite a veil of blurring tears, she saw his smile, the tenderness of it a poignant contrast to his rugged, masculine aura. He brushed her hair back and cradled her jaw. “You’re a wreck, mon petit chaton. I’ve never seen you more beautiful.”
She beamed up at him.
“I never thought I’d see the day Lin Soong came undone,” he said.
“I didn’t, either. But I’m glad it came,” she replied earnestly. His smile faded slowly, his expression hardening.
“Je t’aime, mon amour.”
Warmth and wonder flooded into her chest, bathing her heart. Her French was good enough to understand that, but even if it hadn’t been, the message gleaming in Kam’s eyes at that moment was unmistakable.
“Yeah. It kind of took me by surprise, too,” he mumbled, his handsome mouth tilting in a self-deprecating grin. She laughed and he joined her, the moment effervescent. Golden. He must have recognized her amazement at his declaration of love.
“More like a miracle,” she breathed out, awe tingeing her tone.
He brought her wrist to his mouth and kissed her pulse, his passionate gaze seeming to bore straight down into her. How could she ever have even considered forsaking this for the safety of her heart? His warm lips lingered for a heart fluttering moment.
“Come on. You should go into the bathroom and wash those cuts on your palm,” he said gruffly after a moment.
“I never asked you what you were doing here instead of getting onto your plane,” Lin said as they walked to the women’s restroom side by side.
“I decided I’d given up too fast. I was coming back to beg for your forgiveness for how I acted last night. I was coming back to put up a fight for you,” he said, giving her a hard, glittering sideways glance that caused that all-too-familiar swooping sensation in her lower belly.
“Neither thing was necessary,” Lin assured. “But thank you, all the same.”
Epilogue
FOUR MONTHS LATER
BELFORD HALL, ENGLAND
Lin knocked on the carved walnut door and entered when she heard the soft “Come in.” A smile spread across her face. Francesca lay propped against the pillows in the four-poster bed holding a white-blanketed bundle in her arms. Morning sunlight streamed through the windows. She’d just learned from Ian’s grandmother, Anne, that Francesca and Ian had been up much of the night with their new baby. Apparently, the baby had finally succumbed to sleep. Francesca looked very tired, but sublimely happy as she shared Lin’s smile.
“Anne told me to come on up,” Lin said in a hushed tone. “I saw Ian downstairs. He said he’d be right in with the bassinet so you can rest. He looked so happy.” She peered down at the bundle and saw the infant’s face. His hair was dark, like Ian’s, and he was fast asleep.
“Meet James Patrick Noble,” Francesca whispered. “He seems to have finally figured out sleep is a good thing.”
“He’s beautiful, Francesca.”
Francesca smiled as she looked down at her son. “He looks like his father. Lucky boy.”
“What color are his eyes?”
“Dark blue, but Anne says they might change.”
“Kam was struck dumb for I don’t know how long when he found out you gave James his middle name,” Lin said quietly, stepping back. She glanced around when she saw Ian walking into the room, carrying a white bassinet. He wore jeans and a shadow of whiskers on his jaw. Like his wife, he looked tired but happy.
“We wanted to give him a true family name,” Ian murmured, setting down the basket a few feet away from Francesca. “Since Elise and Lucien are his godparents, we thought we’d commemorate Grandfather and Kam by giving him their names.”
“Kam is so honored. Seriously,” she whispered, giving Francesca a significant glance. “Even though he hardly has said anything about it, I can tell by the sound of his voice whenever we talk about James.”