“That seems somewhat formal for our private moments.” Her words suddenly had extra layers of meaning. Marriage. Privacy.Intimacy.She bent down to scoop up Sillikin. “Thank you for not wanting to use Kathryn.”
“You dislike it?”
“It was never used as I grew up.” She was struggling to pull her mind away from an increasing awareness of him—of the body that would join with her in the marriage bed. Of those fine hands on her skin, on her breasts.
He was waiting for her to say more.
“Marcus’s family are the only ones who’ve ever called me Kathryn,” she said as briskly as she could. “Perhaps Lady Cateril was like your father and hoped that a more sober name would make me a more sober person. Don’t think too badly of her. When she first met me, I was a silly seventeen-year-old.”
“That’s generous of you.” Simple words, but something in his eyes and in his tone made her wonder if he shared her sensual thoughts and lurking doubts. He couldn’t be unaware of tomorrow night.
“Were you silly at seventeen?” she asked. “It’s hard to imagine.”
“I expect I was. Are you wondering how old I am? Twenty-nine.”
She’d thought him older because of his cool reserve. He couldn’t maintain that in bed. Could he? “Perhapsyou do have something of philosopher about you,” she said, “but who was Aristides?”
“A statesman and general, sometimes called the Just.”
“Not bad attributes to seek to give a child.”
“No, but if we have a son, I’d favor a simpler name. So, we marry as planned tomorrow?”
This was the moment. The point of no return. But hot or cool, there was no reasonable alternative. “We do,” she said.
“Good. The sooner the dowager realizes she can’t prevent your arrival, the better.”
“Especially as she still hopes you’ll marry her granddaughter.” She was pleased to surprise him. “Isabella came here to warn me of your cruel deception, armed with a sapphire betrothal ring.”
Even better, he was speechless.
“I was encouraged to run from the shame of it,” she added, “like the more foolish sort of heroine in a novel.”
“They do both read those kinds of books.”
“So do I, but I don’t take them as a pattern card for behavior. I prefer the heroines who fight brigands with swords.”
Perhaps he smiled. “I’m beginning to understand that you do. Tell me exactly what happened.”
When she finished, he did smile. It was cool, but the first clear smile she’d seen on him. “Isabella is going to be very annoyed by your betrothal ring,” he said.
“I don’t have one.”
“That’s another reason for this visit. Rather last-minute, I know, but I thought you should have one before we wed.” He came to her and took something out of his pocket.
After a moment, Kitty found words. “That’s a rather large diamond.”
“I confess to strategy. No one seeing it will think this a paltry affair.”
“In particular the dowager? As you say, it knocks Isabella’s little sapphire to flinders.”
She realized he was waiting to put it on her finger, and that she was still wearing her wedding ring. She rose, trying to remove it, but she hadn’t ever removed it. She had to lick her finger and even then she only just managed to wriggle it off.
He touched the groove as if it were a wound, but then slid on the diamond ring.
“A perfect fit,” she said.
“I’m a good judge of such things.”
