“My father will not approve, and neither will my Auntie Agatha,” she said, worrying her lower lip.
Exquisite torture, watching that.
“You have reached your majority. We do not need approval. And my family has promised they will do their utmost to aid us however we require it.”
“I do not have a dowry to speak of either. What little I had, my father has lost.”
“I don’t need a dowry.” He kissed her finger once more. “All I want is you.”
“Is it true what you said to me before?” she asked softly, removing her finger so he could speak uninhibited. “That you keep your family interests safe by inflicting pain upon others?”
Here was his past, coming back to haunt him. Before he had found his way to Devil and Dom and the three of them had formed a united team—long before Gavin, Gen, and Demon had found their way into the bastard Winter familial fold, Blade had killed in exchange for money. He had been a youth, earning his keep on the streets.
It was a part of his past he could never change, regardless of how deep his regrets.
A part which had served him well in the East End Winter empire.
“I have been seeing to the protection of my family’s interests, however I must.” He paused, searching for the words. “I have committed a great many sins. I am not a good man, and I will not pretend I deserve you. I cannot change what I have done or who I am. But now, I want… I want to be something more.”
He had no plan as to what that something was. But he was beginning to think he might have a head for business. That he did not need to merely be the brawn.
“You are wrong, Blade,” she said, her gaze searching his. “Youarea good man, and youdodeserve me. We deserve each other.”
She was the one who was wrong, but by God, he was not going to argue the matter.
He caressed her cheek. “Does this mean you will be my wife?”
“Yes.” She smiled up at him, lovely and radiant and his, damn it. “As long as you promise to never again call me Lady Francine.”
He grinned, thinking of their first meeting. “I was only teasing you then, love.”
“And to cease referring to Miss Wilhelmina as Miss Whistlewhiskers,” she added.
Hell.
He kissed her nose. “I promise to remember the feline’s name. Have you any other rules I must know?”
“One more,” said his future wife.
He raised a brow, waiting.
“Kiss me,” she ordered him, grinning.
“With pleasure.” His head dipped and he took her mouth with his, there beneath the mistletoe.
Yes, he was collecting each one of those bloody berries for his own before he was done. One for every kiss.
And then some.
“I refuse tobelieve it.” Auntie Agatha threw her hand to her brow. “Where is my hartshorn? I fear I shall have need of it again.”
“I am reasonably certain you didn’t swoon the first time, madam,” Blade said wryly at Felicity’s side.
He was right, of course. Auntie Agatha had not truly swooned. Her aunt was merely being,well, Auntie Agatha. Melodramatic, grumpy, and rude, not always in that order. She had good intentions, but her execution was often lacking.
In this instance, Felicity could not blame her aunt for her shock.
Even Felicity could still scarcely believe she was marrying Blade Winter, the man she loved. The man who loved her too. The sight of him awaiting her in the library would forever be imprinted upon her memory—an inking of her own.
