“You have a number of offers. Good ones. Your brother is even hoping for an earl.”
“He is. I met the earl tonight.”
Something passed across his eyes.Jealousy. Her heart beat faster.
“I have looked into the earl’s affairs,” he said, fingers tapping on one crossed arm. “He is not a bad choice, all things considered. Jeremy, whose real London project happens to have two legs and a twittering laugh, was prowling a dinner affair where he met the earl. He commented that he was nice enough. My reports say the same. Moderate consumer of spirits and gambling. Plenty of money to keep you in style. The ladies report that he is not hard on the eyes. One of your others—Ratching, is it?—is also a decent choice.”
She stopped a foot in front of him. “Yes. Both decent choices.”
“Whom will you choose?”
She stepped forward a few inches more. “Who do you think I should choose?”
“Ah, but that is not my decision to make.”
She closed the last six inches and tilted her head up. “I’m asking your opinion, is all.”
His fingers curled into white knuckles.Yes. “And I’m not giving my opinion to you.”
She pushed flush against him, her eyelids dropping to half-mast, his arms automatically falling and allowing closer contact. “Then I suppose I should determine my favorite with a kiss?”
He crushed his lips to hers, and she eagerly returned the kiss, the assault.
“I’ve missed you,” he said against her mouth.
She pulled away an inch. “I’ve missed you too. I worried about y—”
He kissed her again. “I know. Talk later.”
He turned and pushed her down on the bed, and she smeared papers beneath her as she leaned back on her elbows.
“I’ll never find anything in that pile again,” he said, his voice rasping as if he’d run ten miles as he continued to kiss her. He pushed against her, hard and delicious, and she pushed back, wanting the heat.
“You can’t find—” She arched back as he freed a breast and sucked the tip. “—anything in those piles anyway, admit it.”
“Never.”
He pulled up her skirts, the layers of material ballooning and bunching around and between them. He stroked a finger along her, unerringly finding the exact spots that made her writhe against him, sneaking a fingertip inside her, on the path her body had already made. Fire and desire combining as he made her body sing. His body aligned with hers and her throat caught.
Fingers threaded through her hair and brilliant green eyes met hers. She looked in his eyes and read the honesty reflected back. The desire, the caution, the love.
“I don’t want any of the others.”
“They could give you the life you deserve.”
“No.” She shook her head. “They will give me anything but.”
“I’m the son of a butler and governess, Marietta. Hardly someone that—”
She put her finger to his lips. “I love you.” She felt the shock jolt through him, and barely kept hold of herself as the movement thrust him inside her an inch. “Love is what none of the others could give me,” she said breathlessly. “I know you do not desire marriage. I don’t expect—”
He placed a finger againstherlips. “I never said that. I worded myself very carefully. I wanted to give you a clean chance to do asyouwanted.”
“I wantyou.”
“Are you sure?”
“Completely.”
He smiled. A smile full of charm and roguish intent. Her pulse raced even as the happy light in his eyes made her heart soar. And then he was all the way inside of her and without looking away from each other they were moving together and cresting over the edge.
He pushed the papers from the bed, scattered leaves gently settling on the hardwood below. He held her to him like a warm blanket and she clung back.
“You do realize,” he said lightly, “that once I commit to something, you’ll never be rid of me?”
“I’m counting on it.”
“Excellent.” He traced a pattern on her back. “Now about those three nights…”
