Mistletoe Wishes: A Regency Christmas Collection
Good God. He’d be a tattered wreck after a year of burning for her. “So you’ll marry me?”
Humor lit her eyes. “So you’ll wait a year?”
“Aye, if I must. I’m sure of what I want. I can’t expect the same of you.” He paused. “As long as I have your promise.”
“More than a year?”
He rose and regarded her uncertainly. “Are you really not sure?”
Her smile widened. “I’m checking to see if you are. I want to be more than just a convenient choice.”
He released a crack of appreciative laughter. “You’re teasing me, you impossible lassie.”
The glance she sent him from under her lashes was unmistakably flirtatious. “I might be.”
“You don’t want to wait a year?” He slid his arms around her waist.
“I dislike tea parties.”
She was a treasure. Provoking, but definitely a treasure. “So how long must I wait?”
“How long would you wait?”
“Forever if I have to,” he bit out, drawing her closer. “Will you marry me, Bess?”
She clasped her hands behind his neck. Her touch thundered through him like fifty cannons firing a broadside. “I will, my lord.”
“You will?” he said stupidly.
Her brilliant smile dazzled him, made him feel like he tumbled through the stars to paradise. “Oh, yes. I was sure from the first, too.”
“My darling…” He kissed her with all the reverent joy in his heart. He only stopped when someone knocked on the door, loudly enough to outweigh the blood pounding in his ears. Slowly he raised his head and stared down at Bess. She looked completely spellbound.
“My love, our privacy comes to an end.” Unable to resist, he kissed each corner of her full mouth. That mouth had lured him all week. The promise of a lifetime of kisses made him ready to throw back his head and shout his triumph to the rafters.
She strained up toward him. “Kiss me again.”
He laughed and forced himself to step away. How could she have imagined he despised her ardent spirit? Her fiery passion was one of the many things he loved about Bess.
Love…
He loved Bess.
The world stopped turning. Even the insistent knocking faded to nothing.
He loved her. With a love larger and mightier than the ocean.
“Rory?”
He blinked until the great hall returned to focus. But still the everlasting truth hammered at him. He loved Bess. And she’d agreed to be his wife. He could hardly wait.
“We’re getting married,” he said jubilantly and caught her up against him for another kiss.
This time she pulled free. She turned toward the door. “Dear heaven, the villagers will wonder what’s happened to us.” She glanced at the tall clock against the wall. “We should have set out twenty minutes ago.”
“They’ll forgive us once they know why we delayed.” Given the efficient flow of information, he’d lay good money most, if not all, of them guessed what Bess and the new earl were doing right now.
“Shall we tell them?” To his delight, she caught his hand.