A Scandal By Any Other Name-Chapter 178 - Hundred And Seventy Eight

Rowan held her so tightly that she could feel the rapid, frantic beating of his heart slowly calming down to a steady, peaceful rhythm against her own chest. He felt exactly like a drowning man who had just been pulled from the freezing sea onto solid, warm land.

Delaney chuckled softly. It was a bright, musical sound that filled the quiet, shadowed room with incredible warmth. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

She kept playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, her fingers tangling gently in the gold strands. She looked up at him, her hazel eyes showing her deep hunger and her undeniable love.

"Besides," Delaney added. Her voice dropped into a playful, incredibly teasing whisper. She tilted her head slightly, her lips brushing softly against his jaw. "Even if I did want to run away from you, I have already learned my lesson."

Rowan opened his eyes. He lifted his head slightly, looking down at her with a fond, highly amused expression. He loved the clever, sharp way her mind worked. "Have you?"

"Yes," Delaney replied. Her smile turned slightly wicked. "Fate will bring us close again. The first time I ran away from you, fate brought me straight into your house to work for you. The second time I tried to pull away from you, fate threw us into a muddy ditch together and nearly broke our necks."

She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head.

"I don’t think I want to know what fate will do this time," Delaney replied. "It seems to have a very violent way of making sure we stay in the exact same room."

Rowan let out a deep, rich chuckle. The sound rumbled wonderfully through his chest. He agreed completely. Fate had been incredibly stubborn, but he would forever be grateful for its cruel, twisting paths.

Suddenly, Rowan swayed very slightly on his feet. The adrenaline that had forced him out of bed was beginning to fade rapidly. The severe blow to his head and the deep bruises on his ribs were screaming in protest. He leaned his heavy weight more fully against the stone wall.

Delaney noticed his sudden pallor instantly. Her playful smile vanished, replaced by deep concern.

"You are exhausted," Delaney said softly. She moved her hands down to grasp his strong forearms. "You should not be standing. The doctor said you need absolute rest. Come back to the bed, Rowan."

Rowan did not want to let her go, but his vision was beginning to blur slightly at the edges. "I am fine," he muttered stubbornly.

"You are not fine," Delaney scolded him gently. She pulled her arm from his waist and slipped her shoulder under his arm, supporting his heavy weight. "Lean on me. Walk slowly."

Rowan allowed her to guide him. He leaned heavily against her small frame. Together, they took slow, careful steps away from the wall and moved toward the center of the room.

They reached the large, four-poster bed. Rowan sat down heavily on the edge of the mattress. He rested his elbows on his knees, dropping his heavy, bandaged head into his hands.

Delaney did not step away. She stood directly in front of him, standing between his spread knees.

She reached out and gently pushed his hands away from his face. She lifted his chin so he had to look at her.

The playful teasing was completely gone from her eyes. She looked at him with a serious devotion. It was time for her to give him the confession he so deeply deserved. He had bared his proud, aristocratic soul to her; now, she would do the exact same thing.

She leaned in and kissed him.

It was a slow, incredibly tender kiss. It was not driven by fear or desperation like the wild kiss they had shared against the wall. This kiss was a quiet, sacred promise. She pressed her soft lips against his, tasting the warm familiar heat of his breath. She kissed him deeply, taking her time, showing him with her actions that she was entirely his.

She kissed him until the last lingering shadows of doubt completely melted away from his injured mind.

When she finally pulled back, she did not go far. She smoothed the gold strand of hair on his head.

She looked deeply into his eyes.

"The world has been a loud and chaotic thing after my parents passing," Delaney spoke softly. Her voice was incredibly gentle, but it carried the heavy, painful weight of twenty years of suffering.

Rowan listened intently. He did not move a single muscle. He simply held her waist, offering his silent, unbreakable support.

"I was just a child thrown into a dark, cruel place," Delaney continued. "I was forced to live in the shadows of my uncle’s house. I was fed scraps. I was told I was a burden every single day."

She smoothed her small hand, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. Her touch was light and full of careful tenderness.

"I had to hide from my uncle’s cruelty. I had to hide from society. I had to hide from the truth of who I was," Delaney said, her voice trembling slightly with the old memories. "I have spent my entire life bracing against the cold. I have spent my life bracing against the fear."

She looked up at him, her hazel eyes locking firmly with his brown ones.

"But when you are near," Delaney whispered, "the wind seems to die down."

Rowan’s breath caught again. He stared at her, completely captivated by the raw, honest beauty of her words.

"When I am with you," Delaney said. Her voice grew stronger, filling with an absolute, undeniable certainty. "I do not feel the need to hide myself. I do not feel the need to run away. You stood up for me three years ago against Hawksley, and you bled for me in a ruined carriage three days ago. You are the Duke of Ford, a man of incredible power, yet you treat me like a Queen."

She leaned her head forward. She rested her forehead gently against his.

"You are the only peace I have ever truly known," Delaney confessed. Her beautiful words echoed softly in the warm, lamp-lit room. "And I intend to keep it that way."

She lifted her head and looked directly into his eyes once more. She wanted him to understand her plan perfectly.

"I will leave this house tomorrow morning, Rowan," Delaney promised softly. "I will go back to my uncle’s place. I have unfinished business there. I will wait for you to heal. I will wait for you to come and find me."

Rowan nodded. He wrapped his large arms fully around her waist. He pulled her forward, holding her securely against his chest, burying his face in her soft dress.

"I will find you," Rowan vowed. His deep voice was a solemn, unbreakable promise whispered into the quiet night. "Even if I have to search every single street in London again, I will make sure I find you."