Jesse’s gaze drifted to my fork, just poking at food instead of spearing it. “Not hungry?”
“Not particularly, no,” I murmured, then looked up into his eyes. “Are you having a good time?”
He flashed me an easy smile. “Sure. I’m surprised at how cool some of your father’s friends are. I was expecting a pretty quiet evening.”
“So was I,” I agreed, but the words had barely left my mouth before one of the men drew him into conversation over the port that had been served after dinner.
The men eventually circled back around to scotch. Their stories were growing louder, their laughter coming more often. Jesse leaned with one elbow against the table, listening to one of my father’s friends recount some hunting trip from twenty years ago.
The wives had mercifully been broken out of the wedding-talk trance by the meal, so I had the opportunity to just observe my future husband for a little while, once again astounded by how much he’d changed.
No longer insisting on being the center of attention, he asked questions at the right moments and delivered the occasional dry remark that sent another ripple of laughter through the group. It was impressive, honestly, how completely at home he looked among them.Although I suppose it makes sense.
His family moved in similar circles, but even so, as the night wore on, I noticed the color in his face beginning to change just slightly, the faintest hint of red creeping across his cheeks. I lifted my champagne again, taking another careful sip.
I hope he’s as practiced a drinker as he seems, because he’s definitely getting ruddier and these guys aren’t going to let him go soon.
As dessert was served, my thoughts were interrupted when the wives turned their attention to me. I’d just taken a sip of what was definitely my third glass of champagne when one of them suddenly stood and lifted her champagne flute.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” she said brightly. “A toast!”
Instantly, all conversation quieted and glasses lifted, everyone giving her their attention as thoroughly as if she was making an announcement of national importance. She seemed to revel it, smiling warmly at my father. “To love, and to how lucky James is to have a daughter who gets to marry for it. And to marry so well, at that.”
My father beamed. I smiled politely, though the wordsmarry for lovesat awkwardly in my stomach. The woman, however, was clearly enjoying herself, not quite done yet.
“And, of course, to such a handsome blue-blooded American,” she said, gesturing toward Jesse with theatrical approval.
He inclined his head with easy charm, but then another woman chimed in. “I suppose we must thank your parents for producing such fine sons.”
“Oh!” someone else said. “Do you have brothers, Mr. Westwood?”
Jesse leaned back slightly. “I do. Quite a few, actually.”
“Well then,” the first woman said mischievously, gesturing toward the younger women scattered around the room. “Perhaps you can set our daughters up with them.”
The table erupted into delighted laughter, but Jesse simply raised his glass. “I can probably make that happen.”
The response from the group was immediate and enthusiastic. I shook my head slightly, amused despite myself. At least, I was until someone near the far end of the table called out loudly.
“Well, I think it’s time.”
Another voice joined in. “Yes, let’s see it.”
I automatically assumed they were talking about the ring, already moving my hand up before someone else chimed in with unmistakable glee. “Kiss her!”
I choked on my champagne, the bubbles going down the wrong way and sending me into a brief coughing fit. Heat rushed to my face. Beside me, Jesse straightened.
One moment, he’d been relaxed, if slightly flushed from the scotch, and the next, he looked completely sober. He leaned over and smoothed his palm over my back until the coughing had subsided, the warmth of his skin even through my clothes sending tingles through me, but the room was still buzzing with encouragement around us.
“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”
Finally, Jesse lifted his hands in an attempt to quiet them, flashing them a charming, crooked grin. “Now hold on. In America, we have a proud tradition of waiting until marriage.”
The room exploded with boos. Good-natured but relentless. A chorus of “Oh, nonsense!,” and “Don’t be shy!” and “Give the girl a proper kiss!” ringing out.
Jesse laughed under his breath but turned to look at me. Something quiet passed between us as our eyes met, a question or perhaps a warning. Maybe even just a silent acknowledgment of the ridiculous situation we were in, but whatever it was, it didn’t appear that we were getting out of it without giving them what they wanted.
I barely had time to process before he slid his arm around my shoulders and leaned in closer again. My pulse jumped as his free hand settled lightly at my waist, his head slowly descending.
