Some Enchanted Evening

As if prompted by their curiosity and everything that had just taken place, Francis asked it again. He faced Priya’s father squarely and said, “I love your daughter, sir, and I will endeavor to make her the happiest woman in the entire empire. I ask that you do me the great honor of granting me her hand in marriage.”

“I….” Priya’s father hesitated, studying her with lost and regret-filled eyes. Finally, he blew out a breath and nodded. “If marrying you and remaining here, on these foreign shores, is what my Priya truly wants, then…then I will allow it.”

A happy murmur and even a few sounds of triumph filled the room from Lady Vegas’s guests.

Francis turned to Priya, taking her hands. “My darling,” he said, smiling at Priya with a joy that was contagious. “Your father has relented. And so I ask you, as it is your future and your happiness that matters. Would you do me the great honor of accepting my hand in marriage?”

Priya felt tears of joy and victory sting her eyes. She nodded quickly, blinking them away, and said, “Yes. Yes, I will gladly marry you. I love you.”

Francis laughed in relief, then raised Priya’s hands to kiss her knuckles. That wasn’t enough, though, and even though they were in a crowded ballroom, he slipped his arms around her and drew her close to kiss her mouth. A few people gasped and a few ladies fanned themselves in shock, but most of the guests burst into thunderous applause, as though they were witnessing the end of a romantic play.

Francis flinched at the sound and pulled away from their kiss long enough to smile sheepishly at everyone wishing them well. He caught his mother’s eye across the room and nodded to her, and with a smile for Priya, Lady Vegas gestured for the musicians to play.

It was the perfect way to signal the end of the evening’s excitement and to divert the attention of the guests to something that would allow Priya and Francis to slip out of the center of attention. They moved to the side of the room, Priya’s father and Jogendra moving with them.

“I expect you to do everything in your power to live up to your promise to make my daughter happy,” Priya’s father growled at Francis once they were at the very edge of the room.

Francis bowed deeply to her father and said, “I absolutely will, sir. And you have my thanks in a way I cannot adequately express for allowing me to possess this great treasure. I am fully aware that you did not have to relent.”

“Yes, he did,” Jogendra interrupted with a laugh. “Because had he not relented and allowed young love to flourish, I would never have forgiven him.” He laughed harder and slapped Priya’s father’s arm. “Now come along, Jitendra. Leave these two lovebirds alone and come with me to find startled Englishwomen to dance with.”

Priya raised a hand to her mouth to hide her laughter, even more so when Jogendra actually managed to grab her father and begin to drag him away. She couldn’t let her not-husband go without a final word, though.

“Jogendra-ji,” she stopped him. When Jogendra turned back to her, she smiled and said, “Thank you. Thank you so much. It took great courage to do what you did.”

Jogendra smiled modestly back at her. “Little Priya, I have watched you since you were a child. I am very fond of you, but not as a husband is fond of his wife. I will always care for you, but not in that way. Now go and be happy with your earl. An English earl! Wah!”

Priya laughed as Jogendra led her father away. She owed everything to the man who could have taken it all from her. Jogendra was one of the best men she’d ever known.

“Do you want to dance?” Francis asked, leaning closer to her. “Or would you rather find a quiet place where the two of us can be alone for a moment?”

Priya turned to him and answered without hesitation, “A quiet place. Most definitely a quiet place.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Francis smiled, then scanned the room until he spotted his mother. He nodded to her, tilted his head to Priya, then gestured to the hall.

When his mother smiled back and made a shooing motion, Francis took Priya’s hand and pulled her from the room. They were close enough to the doorway already, so few people noticed them slip out of the ballroom entirely. Francis seemed to know exactly where he was going as well, and it wasn’t one of the other parlors downstairs. He took her straight to the grand stairway that led up to the first floor, as he had the night after the musical event, and hurried up to his bedroom.

Once they were safely inside, away from the swell of music and talking from the ballroom below, with the door locked behind them, Francis swept her into his arms.

“We have won, my darling,” he said, holding her close.

Priya loved the feel of his arms around her, but she wanted so much more than that. “We have,” she said, a hint of mischief in her voice. “And since we are to be wed—as soon as possible, I hope—”

“As soon as my solicitor can prove that your marriage to Raikut was never legal,” Francis added.

“Then I think we should celebrate as the gods intended,” Priya finished her thought, surging against him.

Francis made a sound of surprise as she took the aggressive role and kissed him thoroughly. That sound turned into a purr as he adjusted the way he held her to stroke his hands over her body. In the process, he lifted one side of her sari off her shoulder and let the fabric fall to the floor.

“I think I greatly prefer the dress of your native land,” he told her as he continued to unwind her from the long, flowing strip of fabric. “It is a great deal easier to undress you this way.”

Priya smiled through the shivers that filled her as Francis’s wicked intentions became clearer and clearer as fabric pooled around her feet. “Then I shall insist on wearing a sari as often as possible.”

“If that is what you wish,” Francis said.

Those words alone were enough to fill her heart to the bursting point. She gripped the front of his formal jacket as she leaned in to kiss him again, then went to work undoing all of his many buttons.

It was ironic that his clothing was more difficult than hers to remove as they made their way across the bedroom to Francis’s bed. Part of her was shocked that, yet again, she was doing something so outrageous. But she didn’t care about propriety, or even morality at the moment—though not a thing they were doing felt morally wrong to her in any way. All she knew was that Francis was hers now and nothing would stand in their way, not even clothing and convention.

Francis was just as eager to make love to her, and in no time, she was spread out in his bed, her head on his pillows, her arms and legs wrapped around his naked form as his mouth devoured hers. She was certain she could spend all of her days simply kissing him and be perfectly happy.