“The cat is not demonic,” he argued as another yowl tore through the chamber. “Aggrieved would be a better choice of words. Apparently, the little lass prefers her bed in the stables to this salon, though I cannot fathom why.”
Grace’s fingertips caressed his cheek lightly.
He was so starved for her touch that his reaction was instant. Blistering. His cock went stiff, and he caught her wrist, holding her in a gentle grip while he pressed a kiss to her palm.
“Did the aggrieved cat do this to you?” she asked.
“Trundling the creature from the stables to this chamber was no easy feat,” he said, rather than admit he had been bested by a feline.
He would do it all over again. Anything to convince her how serious he was about spending the rest of his life with her. He would even allow her vexing sisters to make a fool of him once more.
“Oh, Rand,” she said. “I cannot believe you did this.”
“You cannot believe I amassed a whole lot of things you do not like?” He raised his brows, aiming for comical effect. “I am afraid I have mucked this up quite badly by seeking the counsel of your sisters. I should have simply told you what I felt for you in the orangery. I would have, but I was too bloody scared.”
“I was scared too,” she told him. “That is why I ended it between us. Because I knew I could not bear to continue spending time with you, pretending to be your betrothed, all while falling more in love with you each day. I had to put an end to it to protect my heart.”
This was promising indeed.
He swallowed down a knot of emotion. “You are in love with me?”
Her smile was tremulous. “Yes. Somehow, I lost my heart to an arrogant scoundrel who coerced me into being his feigned betrothed. Who stole my book…”
“I returned it to your sisters,” he told her. “Your secret is safe. I was an utter cad for using it against you. Can you forgive me, my love?”
The cat made another low, keening sound.
“Of course, I forgive you.” She searched his gaze. “Do you truly mean it, that you love me?”
“Would I have brought you a demonic cat if I did not?” he quipped.
“I am still right about your sallies,” she told him solemnly. “Say it again, Rand. Tell me again.”
That was easy. The words left him, unfettered and true.
“I love you, Grace Winter.”
“Oh,” she said. Tears glistened in her dark-green eyes. “I love you too.”
“Thank Christ,” he hissed, dipping his head until their foreheads touched. “I am settling upon the favor you owe me from our debauchery bargain. Tell me you will marry me.”
“You are not doing this because of the estate, are you?” she asked then.
“I do not want Tyre Abbey,” he told her. “I thought I did. I thought securing the estate would fulfill me, but I realized something far more profound along the way. All I want isyou.”
“All I want is you, too,” she whispered.
Gratitude washed over him, along with the sweetest relief. And love. So damned much love.
He took her mouth with his at last, and there was little skill in this kiss. It was raw and ardent and real. A promise. He devoured her lips, and when she sucked his tongue into her mouth, he could not stifle his moan of appreciation. The kiss deepened, until they were clutching each other desperately.
Until the low, throaty meows of the fat cat intruded.
He tore his mouth from hers with great reluctance, unable to keep the stupid grin of happiness from his lips. “I hate to stop kissing you, darling, but the demonic cat sounds as if it is in pain.”
Grace smiled back at him. “Where is the poor creature?”
“Beneath a settee, I believe,” he grumbled, inwardly cursing the thing.
