Chapter 10
At the turn in the hall for the ballroom, he continued to the central stairs. But Fifi stopped and tipped her head in question.
"Let me show you," he whispered, his voice gruff with promise, "that I value all the lovely things you are and that our tomorrows are ours to share."
She wanted that. Desperately. Stepping into his arms, she stretched up on her toes and sealed her hopes to his with a tender kiss.
He caressed her cheek. "Come then."
The melodies of the orchestra in the ballroom drifted up as they climbed and for the first time in her life, Fifi thought she floated on dreams that could come true. She'd remembered him for years, his spirit, his nature and his tenderness. Though she'd assigned him another's name, he was the one she identified as her perfect mate. No matter the lag in all those years, no matter the mistaken identity, no matter this brief time together, she loved him. All the ordinary rules of courtship had never applied to their relationship. Why should they now?
She would remove the last vestiges of social dictums just as she removed her clothes. To make love to him would be the joy of her young life.
When he stopped at her door, she shook her head. "Yours," she said, lest Welles come to intrude upon what would be the most glorious experience of her life.
He nodded and led her toward the other wing where his rooms were.
Inside his sitting room, she stood for a moment upon the rug as he stepped back from her. His eyes in the golden candlelight were pure temptation. "I would not hurt you for the world."
"I know it."
"And I will marry you. Say you will have me."
A rush of delight ran through her blood. What a delightful man he would be to live with. Doing for her as no one ever had. Promising joy and granting it with equanimity and kind consideration. "I will, knowing I am the luckiest woman in the world to have as my husband a man I can honor with all my heart."
To prove her words, she stepped against his solid warmth and undid the knot of his cravat and the buttons of his waistcoat. He shrugged from his frock coat and she caught it to lay it across a chair. As she stripped away his stock, she eyed the hollow of his throat and kissed him. There she felt his pulse beat and her own picked up a pace. "You did such a fine service for me to bind up my foot, I wonder if I might do a similar one for you?"
He donned a wicked grin. "What did you have in mind?"
She took his stock and quickly wrapped it around one of his wrists and then the other.
He chuckled. "Darling, this gets us nowhere. I need my hands to love you properly."
"Who says I want you to love me properly?" She spread little kisses down the center of his chest.
He sucked in air. "Really, Fee. This is—"
She spread wide the neckline of his shirt and kissed as far down as she could go. "Too much?"
He barked. "Not enough!"
She grinned. Then took him by her lead toward his bedroom. An efficient servant had lit a candle on the mantel, its golden glow a warm inspiration to her.
"Sit here," she said and pushed him down upon the bed. Going to her knees, she lifted his foot and removed one shoe, then the other. His hose came next. And when she stood, she saw he'd undone her bonds.
"You are a minx," he growled as he hauled her into his arms and swung her beneath him. "A glorious mix of fun and sternness that I will spend my life adoring."
She threaded her fingers into his hair. "I wish to be a delight to you."
"You are, my darling."
"Not a duty."
"Never."
"Or an opponent."
"Impossible." He crushed her close. "Why would you say such a thing?"
