The Case of the Season

Chapter Seventeen

"To meet a beautiful woman is one thing," Simon finished, "but to meet your best friend in the most beautiful of women is something entirely apart. And it is with my sincerest apologies that I must say it took the prince coming along for me to realize I did not want Miss Bridgerton to only be my friend. I wanted her to be my wife. I want her to be my wife. And so I plead with you not to make us wait."

Robin's eyes filled with tears at his words. She would have given anything to hear Sherlock say the same about her.

The queen approved. "You are wise," she informed them, "or perhaps unusually lucky, to understand friendship to be the best possible foundation a marriage can have. Even if that foundation should crumble as quickly as it was built."

Suddenly, Robin couldn't breathe again. But she held it together, because she wasn't going to faint in front of the queen for anything in the world.

She felt sympathy for her monarch. She had everything anyone could want, except the one thing she truly desired. Her husband well and whole.

If something like that were to happen to Sherlock and she had never told him how she truly felt, Robin knew she would never forgive herself.

Besides, it was entirely unfair to keep her feelings to herself. Sherlock deserved to know, if only so there were truly no secrets between them.

If there was even the remotest possibility that their friendship had turned into love on his part, she had to give him the chance to say it. Maybe he was already trying, but was just too afraid, likely for the same reasons she was.

He noticed her breath hitch several times in a row, so he squeezed her arm tighter and put his hand on the small of her back to keep her steady.

He didn't know what she was thinking, but he hoped against hope that it was the same thing as him.

The queen was right. Robin had quickly become his best friend, and now she was much more. There was no better way to fall in love.

It was inevitable now. He couldn't keep his feelings to himself any longer. He needed to tell her the truth, or the intensity of them would rip him apart.

If she didn't love him, perhaps she would at least forgive him.

He looked at her and frowned when he saw how pale she was. The queen had just invited them all to tea, but he needed some time alone with Robin to set things right.

"I respectfully request permission to take Miss Ballard out on the grounds, Your Majesty," Sherlock interrupted. "I believe she needs some air."

Violet immediately began fussing. "Oh, my dear, you do look rather peaked."

"I'll be fine, Aunt Violet," Robin reassured her breathlessly, her head spinning with the need to unburden herself.

"Her man will take excellent care of her," the queen agreed. "The gardens are quite lovely. I suggest taking her there."

He bowed slightly. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

Robin let Sherlock steer her outside in a daze. He led her to the gardens the queen had mentioned, finding a spot shielded from prying eyes by beautiful rose hedges.

"Are you well, Robin?"

"Yes," she replied. "I'll be fine. But I have something I must tell you."

"As do I. Normally, I would defer to you, but I must insist on going first this time."

She blinked and nodded. "Very well."

He took a deep breath and reached for her hands, clasping them in his tightly, as if he could hold her there if his words frightened her.

"I do not wish you to think that I intended to change the terms of our arrangement after we made it, especially once it was far too late for you to reconsider," he began.

She swore that her heart skipped a beat as she waited to hear the rest of what he had to say.

"I shall simply speak frankly so I get to the point," he decided, his voice quavering as he spoke. "I... I love you, Robin."

Finally, her lungs seemed to fill entirely with air, and before he could say more, she answered him just as simply.

"I love you, Sherlock," she breathed.

His relief was immediate. "I thought you would be terribly cross with me if I told you," he confessed.

She laughed loudly and squeezed his hands even tighter. "I thought you would think I'd been trying to manipulate you from the beginning. That I had intended to trap you with a false bargain and then confess my feelings once your backing out would be entirely dishonorable."

"I know you would never do such a thing."

"And I know you wouldn't either."

They both paused and then he chuckled. "There is so much more to say, I feel. But I can't think of any of it at the moment."

She giggled. "Nor I. I'm a writer with no words. What irony."

He moved his hands so his palms were cupping her neck, pressing his thumbs against her jaw to tilt her face up until she was gazing at him fully. "Perhaps that means discussion is meant for another time," he whispered. "Right now, I would very much like to kiss you, if you will permit me."

"Yes," she agreed.

She clasped his sides as he moved closer, bending until their lips touched.

He had never kissed a woman before, of course. For a moment, just the touch of her mouth against his was enough. Then it wasn't, but he found himself pulling back to gauge her reaction before he continued.

Even a man as inexperienced as himself could read her desire. Her skin was flushed, her pupils were blown, and her lips were parted as if to invite him back.

So he accepted the invitation and kissed her again. This time, he moved his lips against hers, he hoped in a pleasing way.

Her fingers tightened on his sides and she moved her lips back encouragingly.

Then he was overcome by his own yearning for her, which washed away his nerves entirely.

He kissed her again, opening his mouth against hers, and shocked even himself when his tongue curled out to meet hers during the next kiss.

She gasped at the sweet entrance, then moved her hands to his head so her fingers could sink into his thick, dark curls.

His body surged forward ardently, craving her against him as he kissed her over and over, their tongues meeting again and again as they tasted each other.

She was soft everywhere. Soft lips. Soft breasts pressed upon his chest. Soft hair that brushed his cheek as it fell free from her gold ribbons. Even her arms were soft as he slid his hands down them to hold her in place, though she clearly had no intention of pulling away.

He could have kissed her forever. He would have been content to let the world crumble to dust around them as time passed.

Because she loved him, and he knew now that as long as he had her, he would always be content.