Page 127 of Courting the Country Miss

“Oh, good. Then you’d best kiss me again.”

He raised a brow. “Is that a request?”

“No. A command.”

“Your command is my wish.” As he lowered his head, she lifted her face and kissed him first. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest but he let her take the lead. She explored his lips as if finding them for the first time, each new sensation washing over her.

When she pulled away, he blinked, his face flushed, his breath as unsteady as hers. “Heaven help me,” he muttered.

She swallowed to cover up her own breathlessness, and asked in an overly sweet voice, “What are the other two reasons for your visit?”

“I can’t imagine…” He swallowed. He ran his fingers through his hair. “Right. Visit. I wanted to let you know that I am on my way to call upon your father.”

She affected an innocent look. “Oh? What business have you with him?”

“There’s a certain saucy wench with passionate kisses who I mean to hogtie and drag to the alter. I want his advice on what kind of rope to use.”

She giggled. She, Leticia, a normally sensible young lady, was blushing and giggling like a silly schoolgirl. “I recommend something gold.”

“Ah. Gold. Yes, I see, and perhaps smaller than a rope?”

“It only need be large enough to encircle a finger.” She held up her hand.

“I will take that into consideration.” He kissed her hand.

The thought of his absence, if only a few days, left her oddly anxious. Besides, she couldn’t pass up a chance to tease him a bit, and remind him of a certain promise. “You needn’t rush off to speak to him now, you know.”

“No?” he drawled, his eyes gleaming. “I rather felt the need for haste. Especially after your last kiss.”

“Oh, no. The altar must wait until after Christmas.”

Horror crumpled his face. “Christmas! I cannot wait that long.”

Gleefully enjoying herself, she said in an overly serious tone, “I’m afraid you must. If you’ll recall, you and I had a wager. You promised me that if I failed to marry by Christmas, you’d donate a hundred guineas to my charity school.”

He blinked. “Er…no, I believe the wager was that if you didn’t accept a marriage proposal by Christmas, I’d pay you a hundred guineas. You’ve accepted mine, so it counts.”

“No, I’m quite certain that it was marriage that must occur by then.”

“You can’t be serious. Christmas is eight months away!”

“Are you afraid you will change your mind by then?” She shot him a look of challenge.

“No, of course not. I’m afraid I might ravage you before then.”

She smoothed the lines from his forehead. Of course, ravishment implied a lack of willingness on her part, and nothing could be further from the truth. She grinned at the thought and didn’t have the decency to blush.

He tilted his head. “Though I won this wager, far be it for me to deny support of your school. I’ll draw up a bank note and deliver it to you on our wedding day. We could get married as soon as I purchase the license. I will get one next week.”

Sobering, she entwined her fingers with his. “We can’t marry that soon. My mother is in a family way and needs to stay abed lest the baby come too soon as the last two did. I want her at my wedding. We couldn’t get married before September—maybe not until October, to give her time to recover.”

He deflated. “That’s still four months away.”

“True.” She almost laughed at his sad puppy eyes—except she shared the sentiment.

To his credit, he straightened. “Very well. I’m still going to ask your father’s permission; he’s expecting me and I want our engagement formalized.”

She smiled. “I do, as well.”