“And I love you,” she said again, for it did not matter how many times she spoke the words aloud.
Indeed, it almost seemed the more times, the better.
“I am going to ask you a third time, Belle. This time, I am going to bloody well do it right.” He paused, lifting their linked hands to his lips so he could place reverent kisses upon the tops of her hands. “Christabella Winter, you have filled my life with a light I did not even know existed. From the moment you entered the salon that day, you changed everything. I have never met a more maddening, fascinating, vexing, beautiful woman.”
“Maddening?” she could not help but to protest with a teasing smile. “Vexing?”
“You tickled me,” he pointed out. “And then you smelled me.”
Well, yes, when he phrased it thus…
“You also pelted me with snowballs,” he added.
She bit her lip to stifle her laughter. “You hit my bonnet with one.”
“You taught me how to kiss,” he continued, his gaze burning into hers.
“I rather thought you taught me,” she said as wicked heat flared to life in her core.
“You also taught me how to love.” He kissed her hands again, then drew her more solidly against his body. “I love you, Christabella. Will you do me the great honor of marrying me?”
“Oh, Gill.” Her heart beat so hard, so fast, it threatened to fly from her chest and soar among the clouds. Happiness and love washed over her, so profound, so humbling. “I would be honored to be your wife.”
“Truly?” he asked.
“Truly,” she said.
“Good. Because I am reasonably certain I will perish if I go another minute without kissing you.”
His mouth was on hers in the next breath. Christabella looped her arms around his neck and rose on her toes, kissing him back with all the love and happiness blossoming to life within her.
Chapter Twelve
Three weeks later
Her husband’s handwas on her thigh.
Husband.
One word, two syllables. Such a tepid way to describe the man who had become everything to her.
She cast a sidelong glance at Gill’s handsome profile. It was difficult to believe he was finallyhers. It seemed they had waited forever for the banns to be read. But at long last, earlier that morning in the Abingdon Hall chapel, they had been married. Now, they were surrounded by family and a handful of friends who had remained, enjoying the wedding cake in the wake of the immense breakfast spread which had been served.
“I love you,” Gill whispered in her ear, his lips near enough to graze her skin and send a shiver trilling down her spine.
The cake was delicious, but not nearly as delicious as her husband was.
Not to mention the prospect of consummating their union.
Beneath her beautiful gown and calm façade, she was positively aflame. Over the course of the last few weeks, they had found time to be alone together as Gill had stayed on at Abingdon Hall after the house party’s conclusion. But though they had enjoyed some quiet moments of passion, they had yet to make love.
The wait was almost over.
She settled her hand in her lap, fingers resting over his, and gave him a gentle squeeze before slowly guiding his hand higher. It was wicked of her, she knew, for they were surrounded by others. But she could not help herself.
She stopped when his hand rested over the place where she ached for him the most.
“I love you too,” she murmured back to him.
