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What the devil? He frowned at her. “I understand,” she said, and she was laughing at him again, the minx, “that it is as rare as a rose in winter.”
How foolish, he thought. How very foolish! But he...
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For half an hour he waltzed with her and the...
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She sparkled. He felt as if he held joy itself in his arms.
He kept his eyes on her, marveling at her beauty, breathing in the fragrance of her, doing nothing to hide his admiration somewhere deep behind his eyes.
“Thank you,” he said when the set was finally over and he was forced to return to reality. And then, more ...
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He had smiled, and she would swear that her heart had performed a complete somersault in her chest.
And then he had waltzed with her, and his eyes had devoured her the whole time.
May I speak to her? And may I ask my question afterward? I will not trouble either her or you if you would rather I did not.”
“Yes,” she said, her voice breathless. “You may call on my mother. She will be honored. And you may call upon me. I will be . . .” “Christine?” he prompted softly. “Pleased,”
She was not in love, she thought. Not at all. She loved!
“For one thing,” he told her, “I do not believe you allowed your housekeeper to get a word in edgewise. And, for another, you look adorable as you are.”
“First,” he said, setting his hands behind his back, “I must tell you that I can never be the man you dream of—” “Yes, you can,” she said quickly, interrupting him. “You can and you are.
You are everything I could ever dream of and more.”
“Your grace,” she said, “I—” “Must you your grace me?” he asked her. “Must you, Christine?”
“It seems presumptuous to call you Wulfric,” she said. “You did not think so when you were in bed with me at the dovecote,”
I knew that I could never marry unless I met the woman who could be soul of my soul.
Frankly, I did not expect ever to meet her. I am not a man who has inspired much love.”
“Christine,” he said, “you are light and joy and the embodiment of love. If you were to agree to be my wife, I would not expect you to shape yourself into your image of what a duchess should be
You have a gift for attracting love and laughter, even from people who have no intention of loving you or laughing with you.”
“I would neither expect nor want you to change. I love the Duke of Bewcastle as he is. He is formidable and magnificent and dangerous—especially when he hauls villains to their feet with one hand and dangles them above the floor and throws terror into them with a few soft words.”
If you marry me, you must expect to be adored for the rest of your life.” She sighed. “I think I could bear it,” she said, “if I try very hard. But only if I can do the same to you.”
And then he smiled slowly at her in that way he had of transforming himself into surely the most handsome man who had ever lived.
Life, he guessed, was going to be an adventure now that he was thirty-six. This was, in fact, his birthday.
“I would not believe in our happily-ever-after until now.” “Oh, not happily-ever-after, Wulfric,” she said. “That is such a static thing. I don’t want happily-ever-after. I want happiness and life and quarreling and making up and adventure and—”
And I hope he has brothers and sisters to fill our hands even fuller.” “Well,” the Duke of Bewcastle said, sounding haughty and even slightly bored, “if there is anything I can do to assist you in bringing your wish to fulfillment, my love, do let me know.”
