She could sayno.
Which, contrary person that she was, only made her want to say…
“Yes.”
And she lifted onto the tips of her blue satin slippers and pressed her willing mouth to his shocked one.
For a man possessed of such hard, unassailable edges, his mouth was unimaginably soft. Exceptunimaginablywasn’t the correct word. For she realized now, somewhere in a hidden corner of her mind, shehadimagined the soft feel of his mouth.
Pillowy…but firm.
Every individual part of her seemed to develop a mind of its own the longer the kiss went on. The tightening of her arms around his neck… The sway of her body into his… A little cause and effect there. But,my, what a hard, unyielding body she’d swayed into. And her tongue…
Her tongue, of its own instinctive accord, darted out and swiped across his bottom, beautiful lip.
A single, swift swipe was all it was, yet…
A low growl sounded in the back of his throat.
That growl penetrated skin and bone and resonated through her, producing sensations… Sensations thatbegged…implored…demanded… This pretend kiss… It felt like it wanted to turn into something else…
Somethingmore.
Of a sudden, in the not-too-far-off distance, a chorus of shocked gasps and exclamations sailed through the air of the conservatory.
A heartbeat later, Beatrix tore her mouth from Deverill’s and took an inelegant, scrambling step backward, light fingertips pressed against kiss-crushed lips. For the complicated split of a second, she and Deverill held each other’s gaze. And in that moment, she saw reflected at her a note of surprise that mirrored her own. Her gaze slipped lower and took in his beautifully swollen mouth and for a wild moment considered kissing it again.
And she might’ve been bold enough to do so but for the gathering of a crowd at the periphery of her vision. Just as she couldn’t quite believe what had happened, neither could they.
Lady Beatrix St. Vincent…kissing…Lord Devil.
They wouldn’t have believed it if they hadn’t seen it with their own eyes.
And even then, it was a struggle.
Without taking his gaze off her, Deverill reached into an interior coat pocket and produced an object.
Ashinyobject.
As if she were observing from a place above and beyond herself, Beatrix watched him fall to one knee and extend the shiny object toward her.
More gasps followed.
The shiny object was a ring—a deep red cabochon ruby set in a band of gold.
His beautiful mouth was moving, but she could hardly hear him through the cotton in her ears.
The words, “My sweet Bea,” snapped her to.
Not only her given name, but a shortening of it.
A pet name.
“Will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”
Rapt, anticipatory silence descended on their audience.
“Sayyes,” he muttered beneath his breath. “And drum up a tear of happiness while you’re at it.”
