“It is not my home. You have a housekeeper.”
“As my fiancée, and soon to be my wife.”
“I cannot marry you. Please, let’s not argue.”
He moved onto the side of the bed and enveloped her hand in his. “I never argue.”
“You do. And you keep on until you get your way,” she reminded him with an unashamedly fond smile. His proximity affected her so deeply, she feared she’d lose her resolve. She tried to remove her hand, but he threaded his fingers through hers. “It cannot be. You must go. Maids gossip. This will spread all over the village. I shan’t be able to hold my head up. Or buy the haberdashery.”
“Damn the haberdashery.”
“And now you are cursing. Can it get any worse?”
“A good deal worse if you were not ill.” His heated, demanding green gaze held hers, reminding her of their last night together and robbing her of breath. “Has Manners been to see you?”
“Yes. He said it’s nothing. I’m only a little tired. Really, Redcliffe, you should not be here. It can do no good.”
“Am I to list all the reasons we should marry? Some would make a maid’s hair curl. Should she be listening.”
Distracted by the image he presented, she flushed and glanced at the door. “You might call them reasons. I am familiar with your forceful arguments.”
He arched an amused eyebrow. “Arguments or reasoning are of no use now, Olivia. It’s a fait accompli. We need each other. I am certainly no good without you.”
How she loved him. Her lips trembled as she tried to hide her need for him. She shook her head. “It’s because I care about you I must refuse you. I am not a gently reared young woman.” She frowned. “I might have had a dozen lovers before we met.”
He laughed, then he sobered and raised her hand, kissing her fingers. “I was your first lover, Olivia. And I intend to be your last.”
She met his passionate gaze, remembering, and sagged against him. “One might hope for civility and good manners from local society, but it will not be so in London. The slights you would receive! I will not see you hurt because of me.”
“You’re wrong, darling. Together, we are strong. Nothing can hurt us.”
“You won’t feel comfortable there. And you should. It is your right. You are an earl.”
His lips lifted in an ironic smile. “Even ramshackle earls like me have a certain standing in theton, my love. My friends move in royal circles. What they say and do is aped by many. And they will support us.”
She reached up and tidied away a lock of his hair, which had boyishly fallen onto his forehead when he leaned toward her. “Are you so sure, Redcliffe? I’ve been a housekeeper.Yourhousekeeper.”
“You are a squire’s daughter. A chief landowner in the county. And what of it? My friends will love you.”
“The beau monde will not.”
“In time, they will.”
“No… Redcliffe… I cannot fit in with your world. I’m not sure I’d even want to.”
“Darling, I’ll be there with you. We’ll spend most of the year here if you wish.”
“The villagers…”
“Hang the villagers. I want you, Olivia. I’ve decided you shall be my wife.”
Olivia smiled weakly. “And you always get what you want, is that not so?” She was losing the argument. She had known she would when he walked through the door with that determined stride. Heaven help them. She had no fight left in her.
“Not always,” he said, feigning hurt. “But in this, I am determined to succeed.”
“Redcliffe, when you decide on something…”
He cupped her head between his hands. “You love me. Don’t deny it.”
