“Both.” Then he released her, tucked her arm under his and headed for the door. As he touched the handle, however, he groaned. “I need to kiss you again first.”
And so, he did.
***
HENRY DIDN’T CARE ABOUTdecorum or being ducal. He instructed his butler to place an engagement announcement in the papers the following day. During the previous evening’s celebration with their friends and families, while eating delicious chocolates, he’d secured Amity and her parents’ approval for a brief engagement.
Thus, the wedding date was set for a mere three months hence, in the romantic month of February during which Henry was assured of finding both the perfect St. Valentine’s card for his beloved, as well as many heart-shaped chocolates.
True, the brevity of their engagement might raise eyebrows, especially among the nobility, but it still afforded plenty of time for the church banns to be read, for her extended family to arrive from France, and for gowns and such frilly female things to be created. Besides, he didn’t think he could wait any longer than that to have Amity in his bed.
Further tossing convention aside, Henry spent as much time as he wanted with his fiancée andherfamily, and with his fiancée andhisfamily, and, scandalously, with Amity alone.
“I am deliriously happy,” he declared to her one evening when they were playing cards in front of the fire in the Rare-Foure’s Baker Street parlor, a fully-festooned Christmas tree stationed between the front windows. Her parents were somewhere in the house, her sisters were out, and there was no pesky maid lurking anywhere.Why?Because he was an engaged duke and could do what he liked.
And also, because Amity’s parents liked and trusted both him and their eldest daughter. Neither of them would do anything to break that trust ... except, perhaps, for a few kisses.
“Let’s sit closer,” he suggested.
“What if my mother comes in?” she asked, but her expression said she was going to sit beside him anyway.
“If your mother comes in, we shall make room for her but not between us.”
She giggled, the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. She rose from the winged chair on the other side of the card table. He stood, too, and they went to the sofa. At the last second, he pulled her onto his lap.
“Much better!” he said.
Amity lifted her arms and to his surprise, sank her fingers into his hair.
“Mm,” she murmured, “such soft silky hair.”
“No fair,” he said. “I cannot do that to you without that infernally complicated hairstyle coming all undone. If you were seen in such disarray, we would have to hightail it to Gretna Green by morning.”
She giggled. “Kiss me.”
“That was my intent. Is this how it will be after we’re married, with you messing up my coiffure — which my valet will not be pleased about, by the way — and giving me orders as if I were a servant.”
“Probably.” She sent him a lopsided grin, and his heart squeezed with love.
“Perfect,” he said.
Framing her beloved face with his hands, he kissed her. As her warm lips opened under his, he felt a sense of bliss he’d never experienced in his life. Teasing her tongue, he nibbled her lower lip before he finally pulled away.
“What is that you’re wearing?” she asked unexpectedly.
He frowned. “A very fine cotton shirt. Laundered, starched, and pressed. And the best tailored coat on Savile Row. Why? Is there something amiss beyond the wrinkles you are making?”
“No,” she said. “I meant your scent. It is ... sensual and makes me tingle.” Her cheeks turned pleasingly pink.
He grinned at her. “In that case, I shall bathe myself in it daily. It’s Penhaligon’sHammam Bouquet, sold on Jermyn Street, within walking distance of my home, which is a matter of great convenience. I can send my valet without even having to bother the coachman.”
“When I smell it, I want to rub myself against you,” Amity confessed and she did, first her cheek against his lapel, and then, moving higher and tugging his cravat aside, she stroked his neck with her nose.
“You will be a very sensual duchess,” he said, thinking if she wriggled on his lap much more, he might disgrace himself.
“I am already a sensual chocolatier,” Amity reminded him. “Speaking of which, I brought you an engagement present. It cannot match the magnificence of this,” she pointed out, holding up her left hand where a large emerald twinkled in its setting of diamonds and gold, “but I think you will enjoy it.”
“Is it chocolate?” he asked, as she climbed off his lap.
