“I consider us family. Rudeness is expected. Even acceptable.” He dragged her into the hall. “Ah, Chidwell. We’ll need our cloaks for a brief walk outside.”
Proving himself to be as unflappable as the Lady of the house, he merely nodded. “Of course, Sir James.”
So within a few minutes, Letitia found herself swaddled in her warmest cloak and trudging alongside James around Ridlington Chase toward the terrace. The snow fell in great flakes, melting on their shoulders, but adding to the growing carpet beneath their feet.
“What are we doing out here, if you please?” She refused his arm and spun around to face him. “This is silly.”
“Not really,” replied James calmly. “I needed the opportunity to tell you that I love you and I want you to marry me. As soon as possible, please.”
“What? I…wait…no…” Caught completely off-guard, Letitia’s mind blanked.
“No, I won’t wait. And yes. That is how it will be.” James stood there, an implacable figure, the snow dusting his shoulders and hair, his eyes filled with something wonderful as he stared at her.
She lifted her chin, marshalling her thoughts as best she could and trying to ignore the hammering of her heart as it threatened to kick its way out of her chest. “If this is because of last night, then no. I won’t marry you, James. It’s not in the least bit necessary. You know that.”
“Yes I do and it’s not about last night.”
“But…” Confused now, fear crept in, making her shiver. “James, no. I can’t. You know how I feel about love. I’m a Ridlington—”
“Donotgive me any more of that absurd nonsense.” He loomed over her, his gaze on her face. “I am tired of hearing you hide behind an excuse that is so ridiculous it’s barely worth mentioning.” He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. “Youcanlove, Letitia. Ridlington heritage be damned. Not onlycanyou love, youdolove. You love me.”
“I—I—no—”
“Yes.” He shook her again. “Yes you do, Letitia.”
“How…what…”
“Think. Just think. Why have we spent so much time together over the last year?”
She swallowed. “Because we’re friends?”
“Yes, we started out as friends. We found a special friendship, didn’t we?”
“Yes,” she could agree with that.
“So when you wanted to learn about making love, did you think to turn to Paul and ask him? He’s your friend too, isn’t he?”
“Well, yes. But no…”
“Did you think about asking Max Seton-Mowbray? Or any of the other gentlemen you met in London?”
“Of course not,” she frowned.
“Only me. I was the only one you even considered asking, wasn’t I?”
“Um…I suppose so.” She promptly dismissed any thought of the candidates she had stupidly assumed could be of assistance. That was a notion that had been doomed to failure from the start.
“And you wanted me, Letitia. You wanted me touching you, stripping you naked, making you come…you wanted all these things, didn’t you?”
She felt the colour rise in her cheeks, but refused to look away. “Yes. Yes, I did.”
“Did you like making love with me?” One hand lifted from her shoulder and stroked her cheek. “Did it make you burn, and shiver and cry out?”
“You know it did.”
“Could you have done any of those things with another man, Letitia? Think about it…think about how I sucked your breasts and put my head between your—”
“Yes, stop. I’m thinking.” She interrupted that statement, uncomfortably aware that her body had quickened just at the memory of those moments.
