He uncoiled his long form from its position of supplication to take a more satisfactory place beside her on the sofa.
“It’s true I feel rather giddy at the moment,” he answered, “but I strongly doubt I shall ever come to my senses. Or perhaps I have at last. I don’t know. I really am quite confused, weak, and dizzy. I had better take hold of something.”
He gathered her close to him. Then his fingers crept into the gleaming, copper-lit curls framing her face. His gaze lingered on the haughty countenance that had so entranced and intrigued him from the start—the cool alabaster of her skin, the smouldering blue smoke of her eyes, the wanton ripeness of her generous mouth.
“I love you,” he whispered.
Her mouth curled into a wicked smile that made his heart thump like a legion of marching infantry.
“So you do,” she answered. “A costly mistake, I think.”
“Indeed, I hadn’t expected so high a price as marriage, madam. But what else is one to do? A mistress may be lost on a wager—or led astray by the next good-looking, sweet-talking rogue to cross her path. Marriage it is, then,” he said, his voice low, fierce, possessive.
His kiss was fierce too, hungry, demanding. Yet there was at last peace of a sort within. And so, when she drew away after a moment or two, Julian quieted himself with the reflection that there would be time and time enough. Against every odd, Lilith Davenant would be his. Lady Brandon. His marchioness. The thought threw his heart crashing against his ribs.
“There’s just one thing,” she said, her fingers playing with the curls at his ear.
“Anything,” he answered hoarsely.
“Well, actually, three things. There is Diana next year, then Emily the year after, and Barbara the next. Oh, and Claire—that makes four. But she will not be ready for a few years after that. Four more nieces, Julian.”
“Four of them?” He sat back abruptly. “Perhaps I have been hasty. I don’t believe I can survive any more of your nieces, Mrs. Davenant.”
“They’re very sweet girls,” Lilith defended. “Darling girls, just like Cecily.”
He shuddered theatrically. “No, not like Cecily. Anything but that.”
“You can’t be provoked with Cecily. Recollect she did come to her senses in time.”
“She was never out of her senses,” he retorted. “Not for a moment. I’ve never heard of such a coolly calculating little minx as that one. If her cousins are anything like her, I shall advise England’s entire male population to make for the South Seas at once.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way, because she likes you immensely. She was taken with you from the start, you know,” Lilith said. She reached up again, this time to stroke his stubborn jaw.
He brought her hand to his lips. “Was she?”
“Oh, yes. Because you were dark and devilish-looking. ‘A bad, beautiful angel,’ she called you—although she was comparing you to a horse at the time. All my nieces will dote upon you and make me jealous.”
“Will they, just goddess? It seems the managing has begun already.” He pressed another kiss upon her hand. “I see what our marriage will be like. You’ll lead me about by the nose. What a pathetic prospect.”
“Ah, yes, my lord, but such a seductive one. And poor me—I’m so susceptible to seduction.”
He grasped the back of her head and brought her mouth to within an inch of his. “Indeed. Thank you for reminding me. In all my horror of impending nieces, I’d very nearly forgotten about that.”
“Not until after we’re wed, Julian,” she said primly.
“Oh, no. Of course not.”
“Your reformation must begin at once. There is not a minute to be lost. I am resolved.”
Resolved or no, a devilish promise lurked in smoky blue depths. “Yes, my love. And I respect you for it, indeed I do,” he said. “Naturally, I can wait.”
“Deceitful knave,” she said.
“Yes,” he breathed as his mouth covered hers.