He pushed on. “I never want you to doubt again that I hear you. That I’m listening.” He touched her cheek. “I long to make every moment of your life as bright and joyful as possible. But I will never again presume to know your needs or desires better than you.”
She gazed up at him, her eyes unreadable.
He’d thought his lowest moment was when she’d witnessed him being rejected at the door by his own publisher. Instead, her ability to shrug off a constant barrage ofnoand keep on going had helped him realize that rejection wasn’t a cause for shame. It was a badge of pride. Rejections meant you weretrying. Not sitting at home whingeing about how lovely it would be if some miraculous fantasy were to come true, but out there in the world actively doing something about it.
“You are so talented, so tenacious, so deserving,” he continued. “You are also brilliant and sweet and beautiful and loving and wittyand optimistic and honorable. You’re the most extraordinary woman I’ve ever been blessed enough to meet. You deserve the best in life. All I can offer you is me.”
She’d stolen his heart and, in return, given back pieces of himself he hadn’t realized had gone missing. Confidence. Pride. Hope.
“Love, you are undeniably a whole, capable, self-sufficient person. Yet I will always be here for you, in whatever capacity you may need or wish. Just in case you’d like to face any portion of life together.”
Her brown eyes shimmered.
“Keep the cards,” he finished, his voice low. “Use them or don’t. You’ll know where to find me. In fact… might I convince you to spend the evening with me?”
She scooped up the cards and pressed them to her heart, then rewrapped them with care and placed them in her satchel.
“Spend the evening doing what?” she asked.
“Nothing at all,” he replied simply, and offered his elbow.
She searched his eyes for a long moment, then took his arm. “All right, show me.”
His heart gave a leap of victory. Time for the next phase to unfold.
Step one, according to Ask Vivian: Wait until the woman you wish to woo is ready to be courted. He’d shown his cards—literally—and she’d chosen to remain at his side.
Jacob’s pulse beat faster as he took her not upstairs to his own private quarters, but to the opposite, partly used wing of the house, where he had spent days converting an empty room in the hopes of having this very chance. When they arrived, he opened the door and led her inside.
Soft light entered from a north-facing window, covered in gauzy marigold curtains. There was a small fireplace, in the event it proved necessary. A long sofa, deep enough for two to recline comfortably. A pair of cushioned armchairs, each with a cozy lap blanket curvedover the back.
On either side of the window were floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, filled with plays and novels and biographies and instruction manuals. The other three walls were covered in thick green foliage up to his hip, broken only by a smattering of little white blossoms.
He turned to see what she thought.
Vivian breathed in deeply. Her forehead lined in confusion. “Does this room smell like… Are those potted plantsbasil?”
He grinned.
“Here you are, sir,” said a voice from the doorway.
Jacob pulled Vivian aside to let the maids fill the tea table with lime biscuits, a picnic basket, and a large pitcher of freshly squeezed lemonade—garnished with a sprig of mint.
“You absolute scoundrel,” she breathed, leaning against him and tilting her face up toward his. “You’re‘Loveless in London’?”
“No handmade crown of flowers,” he admitted, his insides warm with pleasure. “I wasn’t sure if daisies made your nose itch.”
The maids curtseyed and left the room, closing the door behind them.
“Do you remember what I said was most important of all?” Vivian asked.
He turned her so that he could gaze into her eyes while he held her close. “Time and attention. To really see you. To truly listen. To be understood and respected. To be admired, just as you are. To be loved.”
Her lips parted.
He lowered his head to hers and kissed her. Telling her with every brush of his mouth, every lick of his tongue, that these were not idle words. He saw her. He heard her. He respected her. He loved her.
Her arms twined about his neck. She kissed him back just as fiercely. Only when they were both feverish and breathless did she lift her lips from his long enough to say, “Is this where you lead me to thesofa and ravish me just as I’ve dreamed?”
