“You make it sound like a good thing,” she whispered, her voice catching as she took in a gulp of air. Her heart pounded, her body tingled, she wanted him closer.
“I rather think it is,” he murmured against her lips.
“You are exceedingly easy to tease.” She collected her thoughts and spoke them, leaning back to meet his warm gaze. “And I rather delight in frustrating you. It is one of my greatest faults.”
“You keep me from remaining as I am, but push me to be better, to think differently, to . . . love.” He spoke the word with reverence, as if it were a litany in church.
Her heart leapt at the word, daring to hope for what it could imply.
“I am rather loveable,” she whispered breathlessly, but without the twist of humor she intended.
“Indeed you are.” He then took her lips, coaxing them to open to his attentions. His hands grasped her fingers, tugging her in closer to his body, his heat melting through her with delightful power. Once he released her fingers, she reached up, winding her hands through his hair and pulling him more securely against her lips, nipping gently before kissing him fully.
He leaned back, even as she tried to pull him closer.
“Demanding little thing, aren’t you?” he teased, his gaze alight with desire.
Her breath was hot and fast as she nodded, not caring that she basically admitted to a physical desire for him.
“As tempting as you are, I wish to live longer than this night. I do believe I’ve had enough bodily harm for the day, and I’d rather not have more at the hand of my friend, who will soundly thrash me, and rightly, if I compromise you in his parlor.”
A heated blush seared her cheeks and she glanced away, then back to his lip. Carefully she reached up and touched the corner where she could see a cut. “Does it hurt?”
“Not nearly enough to tempt me to stop kissing you,” he answered frankly.
At this, Grace smiled. Noticing the rather purple shade of skin along his eye, she refrained from touching it, knowing it had to hurt.
“Stop worrying about me. This is not the worst I’ve had, love. And I dare say it won’t be the last black eye I’ll have either.”
At this, Grace rolled her eyes. “Men.”
“You’re quite fond of me, is that it?” Ramsey asked, his gaze taking on a dancing lilt.
“Yes. I rather am. I hope you don’t think me willing to hand out my kisses to just anyone,” she added with a bit of cheek.
“If you have, don’t tell me. I’d be honor bound to thrash them all and I would rather spend my time doing other things. . . .” He met her lips meaningfully.
She giggled, shaking her head. “Good thing I’ve only kissed one person.”
His expression sobered, then grew fierce. “Me.”
She nodded.
He kissed her then, deep and searchingly, as if making sure he had staked his claim.
When he released her, he leaned back, then bent down on one knee. “Since I’m rather fond of being the first and only, I’d like to make that completely and irrevocably official.” His gaze met hers with a powerful determination as he took a slow breath before continuing.
Grace could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Her limbs were tingling and she couldn’t control the smile that stretched across her face in expectation.
“Miss Iris Grace Morgan, will you do me the great pleasure of consenting to be my wife?” he asked, quite properly she thought.
Her eyes prickled with tears, and she was nodding before she could form the word “yes,” though it came through in a garbled mess a moment later.
Tears burred her eyes so she felt rather than saw Ramsey’s grin as he kissed her soundly, his arms banding around her and holding her firmly against his strong chest.
“I love you,” she whispered against his lips between kisses, her arms tight around his neck as she leaned into him.
“That’s a very assuring thing to hear,” he replied, then slowly gentled the kiss, much against her will, before disentangling himself from her grasp.
