He shoved away from the door and forced his feet to cross to the parlor. As he stepped into the doorway, he stopped short.
Violet was standing in the middle of the parlor, attired in a fancy green gown that matched her eyes. The shimmering material hugged her womanly form, showing off every curve of her lovely body. The neckline was daringly low, with velvet lace barely concealing her cleavage. She wore a simple gold necklace with a pearl pendant, which drew attention to the long stretch of her neck and the graceful curve of her chin. Her dark hair was coiled into a fashionable knot with tiny curls cascading around her ears.
His lungs ceased to function, and his mind refused to work. The only thought running through his head was that she was stunning.
As though seeing his scrutiny, she lifted a gloved hand to her necklace. She touched the pearl with trembling fingers before quickly hiding her hand behind her back. “I have an answer for you.”
From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed Hyacinth standing at the end of the hallway. She was attired in her best too.
His heart gave an extra beat. Did this all mean what he thought it did?
He allowed himself another step into the room. The golden candles on the mantel had been lit, as had the candelabra on the piano, lending the room a soft, welcoming glow. Had she done this to welcome him?
His heart pattered harder.
With her crutch tucked under one arm, she didn’t move from her spot in the center of the room, the light from the candles shining on her and making her hair dark and luxurious. Her chest rose and fell, giving him a tempting glimpse behind the lace to the smooth, generous swell of flesh.
His mouth went dry.
He’d always thought she was more beautiful than any other woman, but this morning, she was a goddess, and she had the power to command him body, soul, and spirit. He was helpless to do anything but adore her and admire her and long for her.
What would it be like to hold her for as long as he wanted, to kiss every single inch of her skin?
“Would you like to know my decision?” Her voice was soft and shaky.
Was she nervous?
He swallowed the desire that had risen rapidly within him, and he tried to cool his thoughts and corral them from thedirection they’d been going, which had been completely selfish and concerned with only his own pleasure instead of how she was feeling and what she needed.
He made himself walk calmly forward across the rug toward her. He would have married her in this room back in April if things had been different between them. Could he keep them going in the right direction now?
Her eyes rounded with each step that he drew nearer. Despite her hurt ankle, she held herself with such poise and beauty that he had a hard time remembering how skittish she was.
Even though he wanted to go to her, wrap her in his arms, and draw her close enough that he could feel the suppleness of her body, he made himself stop an arm’s length away.
“Whatever you want to do,” he said in a low voice that came out huskier than he’d intended. “I’ll respect your decision.”
She nodded, visibly swallowed, then lifted her chin. “What I want to do is have a wedding.”
He held her gaze for a moment. Was she speaking the truth? Or was she trying to appease him?
“I’m ready, Sterling. I promise.” She hobbled closer, lifted a hand as though she wanted to reach for him, but then lowered it and clasped her hands together in front of her.
He closed the distance between them, then tentatively took hold of her hands. “Are you sure?”
“I’m not going to run away this time.” Her voice shook.
“But you’re thinking about it?”
She hesitated, capturing her bottom lip with her teeth.
He had to glance away, couldn’t watch her or he would groan and embarrass himself with his desire for her.
“I admit,” she whispered. “I am nervous.”
“What would help ease your mind?”
She lifted her face to his, giving him a view of her elegant neck and the exquisite pale skin just waiting to be explored. By him. Only him. He never wanted another man to touch her. He was suddenly insanely jealous at the thought of any man ever touching her. He wouldn’t let that happen—not in the dancehall, not anywhere.
