“Emily.” He slid his good arm around her waist, pulling her to him. “I love you more than I ever knew a man could love a woman. If you asked me to, I would throw off the bonds of family and live in that dreadful, creaking house of yours. So yes, I will marry you. I would walk to the ends of the earth for you.”
This happiness was too big a thing; she feared she might drop it and it would shatter. But if she did drop it, Oliver would catch it for her. She trusted him utterly.
“I love you,” he said again, kissing the very tip of her nose. “I confess this was not exactly how I had envisaged this conversation going, but the end result is the same.”
“You’ll marry me?”
“As soon as you like.” He kissed her. “Tomorrow.”
“That might be impossible.”
“It might,” he conceded with a brief grin. “Then when? Next week?”
“We could have the banns read.”
“Three weeks?” He stared at her in mock horror. “You expect me to wait three weeks?”
“It might be sensible. After all, I could then change my mind.” At his immediate glower, she leaned up to kiss him. “If we wait three Sundays,” she murmured, “then we would have known each other over a month, which feels a far more reasonable courting period.”
“Ah.” Humour sparked in his eyes. “So it’s wooing you want?”
“Does not every woman?”
“Darling, I pretended to be your husband for a week. Was that not sufficient?”
That had been surprisingly wonderful, if she were honest, and she wanted more of Oliver playing the role of young, flirtatious, overly protective husband.
That was, she supposed, why she was marrying him.
“Three weeks,” she insisted. “Announce the engagement. Bring me flowers, you cad.”
“Little Emily,” he teased. “A secret romantic.”
“If I am to marry, I may as well do the thing properly.”
“I can think of something else you could do properly,” he murmured, his good hand finding her hip.
“Oh?” She pretended at innocence. “I suppose I ought to go bridal shopping. Do you think Louisa would go with me?”
He huffed in mock irritation. “Don’t bring up my brother’s wife when I’m trying to seduce you.”
“Oh, isthatwhat you were doing?” She rose on her tiptoes and kissed him, muffling his complaints against her mouth until he gave in, kissing her back with such enthusiasm, she wondered how they had ever got through the past daywithoutkissing like this.
Then he broke away. “There’s something else I want to say.”
Emily looked into his face, startled by the lack of concern such an announcement provoked in her. “Why?” she teased. “Have you changed your mind already?”
He hooked a finger into his collar. “I realise it’s somewhat late for me to have developed a conscience, but if you would now rather wait until we’re married to—”
“Oliver. I was not a maiden even before you. What chastity do you think you’re preserving?” She took his good hand in both of hers. “Stay with me tonight. Please.”
“As my lady wishes,” he murmured, eyes crinkling as he smiled. “But that is exceedingly scandalous, Miss Brunton.”
“Tell you what, Mr Beaumont.” She kissed his knuckles. “I’ll marry you to make up for it.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Ifshehadwanted,Oliver would have waited until marriage—or after—to be with her again. She dictated the pace of their physical relationship; that was the way it would always be.
