She crossed her arms self-consciously and stared morosely at something over his shoulder, unshed tears burning her eyes. “I know you don’t want to,” she told him brokenly. “I’m not going to hold you to it. Victoria can’t make us.”
“Danielle,” he said firmly, turning her face towards him with his hand, “the moment that cloak stopped separating us, I was going to marry you.”
“But you said-”
“Sod what I said!” He sighed roughly before tenderly kissing the tip of her nose. “The point is,” he continued, leaning his forehead against hers so that their lips were inches apart, “nothing and nobody can force me to do something I don’t want to do.”
Her lips wobbled into a teary, reluctant smile. Drat, the man had her there. Even if he didn’t love her, perhaps he liked her enough to be happy with her. That was more than what most people had. It wasn’t uncommon to abhor one’s husband or one’s wife. If Dani could sustain a friendship with Rhys, then they could possibly remain happy. Maybe even one day he would come to love her.
One day.
“Really?” The words didn’t have much sound; she had mouthed them more than said them.
He nodded. “So, I suppose you want a proper proposal?”
“That would be preferable.”
“Will you marry me, Miss Carmichael?”
Dani leaned back, mock-affronted, and feigned an outraged gasp. “No.”
“I beg your pardon?” An inordinately arrogant brow rose above one, amber eye and Dani was lost. “I seem to recall that you are not at liberty to refuse me.”
“You have misconstrued sources, sir,” she remarked tartly, hands on hips. “I can refuse you all I like.”
“Dani-”
“I want roses!” she exclaimed excitedly, throwing her hands in the air. “And romance! I’ve been waiting a long time for a man to propose to me and I’ll be… I’ll be-”
“Damned?”
She gave him a dark look for the profanity before continuing: “…if it isn’t done properly.”
After that little performance, he was grinning at her. “I suppose you want this miracle accomplished soon?”
She waved her index finger at him. “Tonight!”
He grunted dismissively. “Ridiculous-”
“Ah!” she interrupted him, rocking on the balls of her feet. “If you want a bride, you’ll do as I say.”
“Impertinent little tart.”
Dani gave him a dirty look. “That is no way to warrant an affirmation.”
He growled inarticulately, swooping his arm around her back and yanking her against him, revelling in the sound of her gasp. “Will this-” he bent his head, brushing his lips against hers, “- warrant it?”
She trembled in his arms, loving the way his hard body pressed intimately against hers and his lips… God, they were sinister. She tried to shake her head but a small, embarrassingly unintelligible whimper came from her lips instead.
“I’m sorry,” he teased, his tongue flicking out and tickling her bottom lip, “I’m not sure I understand what you’re trying to say.”
“Silly… man.”
“Mmm.” Teasingly, he pulled the same lip he was tormenting through his teeth.
Dani thought she might die.
“Rhys,” she croaked, thankful that he was supporting her around the waist as her knees had given way. However, he had sufficiently managed to addle her brain and coherent thought was simply impossible, especially the basic fundamentals of the English language. “Victoria.”
“She can wait.”
Dani shook her head clumsily, feeling strands of her hair whip in front of her face. It was that simple action that snapped her from the delirious haze he had created as she mentally pictured what she must look like. Her hair hung in disarray around her face, shameful and wanton, because of his arduous caresses.
Abruptly, she stepped away from him and shot him an annoyed glance as she attempted to rectify the damage done to her coiffure.
“Damn,” Rhys grumbled, expelling a heavy breath.
Noting a few of her pins had fallen to the floor, Dani bent to pick them up. “I’ll await,” she told him primly, with as much dignity as she could muster considering the appalling state of her attire, “for your proposal tonight.”
Rhys gave her a wolfish grin. “I’m sure you must be hungry,” he said suggestively.
Dani wasn’t sure she understood the innuendo the tone of his voice hinted at, but she replied by saying, “Famished, to be exact.”
From behind her, as she moved towards the door where Victoria had no doubt been pressing an ear against, she was sure she heard him sigh and mutter, “So I am,” and she knew then that they weren’t talking about lunch.
Which just happened to be the most scandalous of meals of she had ever attended.
Rhys was shameless, uncaring that Victoria was seated opposite Danielle and to his right at the dining table. He simply tormented her with a smouldering look or a casual glance, sending her skin flaming into oblivion.
Dani wasn’t even sure what they had eaten as Rhys continued to devour her with just a look, befuddling her mind and sending her body into a quivering, disorientated puddle of desire. Victoria prattled on incessantly about something, blithely unaware of what transpired between the two people she was doing a poor job of chaperoning, while Rhys… God. The man was incorrigible. His eyes, burning and hooded, were downcast and a languorous smile curled the corners of his lips. When Dani realised that he was staring blatantly at her breasts, she gasped and dropped her fork, sending it clattering against the porcelain of her plate.
He looked positively starving, indolent and wolfish.
How steam didn’t start dissipating from her body, she didn’t know. But her fork clattered against her plate and she was sure Victoria saw the total perturbation on her countenance for she had stopped talking almost immediately and covered her mouth with a napkin.
It was only when Victoria escorted Dani home that she realised Rhys had not put his hood back on throughout the entire ordeal. A small, tangible smile graced her lips and remained like that for the remainder of the day, causing her aunt to assign her strange looks from time to time.
Chapter 19
10:32 pm
Dani tapped her foot impatiently. Where was he? Just what exactly was taking him so long? Obviously, something terrible must have happened to delay the odious man. What other excuse could he have to keep her waiting like this?
Then again, they hadn’t really decided on a time, or a place for that matter. Dani had just assumed he would propose to her tonight in her bedroom, doing that romantic thing he did with the flowers and the window all those nights ago.
Hmmm.
She chewed on her thumb nail, suddenly uncertain. Perhaps he assumed she would sneak out the cottage and visit him at Falmouth. Oh, damn. Now she just wasn’t sure of anything and the indecision would probably cause monumental confusion for both of them. Perhaps he was waiting for her and thinking the exact same things as she, possibly deciding to go to the cottage while she acted on moving towards Falmouth.
Their paths would cross somewhere in the night and they would both reach their respective destinations and realise they had just missed each other.
Irksome, it was.
Dani heaved an impatient breath and began to pace in front of the window, occasionally glaring at the silhouette of Falmouth on the inky horizon.
She decided to wait rather than act. Let him come to her.
11:05 pm
Where the devil was he?
Maybe he broke his leg. Oh, no. The thought was too terrible to contemplate. Rhys was quite capable not to engage in harmful behaviour on his way to her. He was, after all, quite familiar with the route into the village. Not forgetting that he had visited her several times before at the cottage. He surely must be capable enough not to meet with accident by now.
A thunderous gargling sound came from the room down the passage and Dani cringed. Eve
n with their doors shut, her aunt and uncle’s night time symphonies resembled the mauling sounds bears made when they fought.
Hardly the ideal romantic setting Dani had envisioned, but it would have to suffice.
For the third time within the hour, she straightened the white linen on her bed and gave her pillows an extra fluff for good measure. Everything had to be just perfect. She had even made sure to pluck all the wilting blooms from the arrangement of roses on her vanity to ensure that the array looked flawless.
Mmm. But where was her perfect groom-to-be?
11:44 pm
She was going to throttle him.
Midnight
Still no sign of Rhys.
Dani had even resorted to squinting out into the darkness, attempting to make out even the smallest movement or shadow that would serve to inform her that he hadn’t indeed forgotten about his assignation.
Oh, how tedious, waiting for one’s own proposal. Simply preposterous. She made a mental note to tell him off most sternly about his tardiness. A gentleman should never keep a lady on tenterhooks.
Hmmmf.
00:08 am
Dani cussed and kicked about the room in a right tantrum.
00:12 am
Realising that her behaviour a few minutes ago had been deplorable and that no lady should resort to explicit displays of vehemence no matter the circumstance, she settled for sitting stiffly on the stool of her vanity.
Calm, she resolved; she would remain cool and collected and when Rhys revealed his odious head above the windowsill, he would bear witness to a woman of poise and dignity, a woman that would coldly and emotionlessly refute his proposal. Yes, refute!
He would have to beg her to accept. She would remain impassionate to his pleas, teaching him a sore lesson for keeping her waiting.
00:15 am
She kicked the stool of her vanity with all the force she could muster.
A sharp pang of pain riveted through her big toe and Dani grasped the foolishness of her actions a moment too late.
She made another mental note to herself: never kick a wooden stool with only a slippered foot.
Huffing angrily, she limped over to the bed and flopped down on the crisp sheets, ruining the neatness and not caring a fig for it.
00:20 am
Dani leaned back against the pillows. It was not like she was going to fall asleep. She was not. But since she was waiting, she might as well be comfortable. After all, she had to think of her back.
Bloody stupid man.
00:30 am
Her soft snores filled the room.
00:35 am
Rhys smothered a grunt as he hauled himself into the room.
Flowers, indeed.
It was hard enough scaling a tree and a wall without the hindrance of a sizeable bouquet of tulips. With each jerk, the sodding flowers emitted a gust of pollen straight into his face, momentarily blinding him and instilling the exigent desire to roar a sneeze.
Knowing that Dani’s aging aunt and uncle were somewhere in the house, Rhys’s efforts to remain quiet became heroic. He should be awarded a medal of valour just for staving off his body’s natural reactions.
The little wench was asleep.
Snorting quietly, Rhys curiously righted a toppled stool next to her vanity and set the flowers atop it, wondering whether he should wake her or let her be.
Sod it.
She was the one who wanted a proper proposal; she could bloody well be awake to witness it.
He stomped to the edge of her bed…
And paused.
Danielle Carmichael was not an elegant sleeper. Her pretty mouth hung open and gentle snores drifted around the room, occasionally interrupted by gargle of some sort. It was not an unpleasant sound, unlike the savagery occurring down the hall, and Rhys had to grin. She lay half on her back, her legs tucked under the gown she wore, and he couldn’t help admiring the swell of her breasts above the fabric of the neckline. Her hair lay in disarray around her face, tentacles spread artlessly against the whiteness of her pillows.
He was a fool. In several days, this wisp of a woman had shattered all the carefully-laid barriers he had erected to protect himself from exactly this sort of thing. It was not a difficult concept to imagine himself married to Danielle. In fact, it downright pleased him. Immensely. She would be his and no other’s. The thought of her in his bed every night for the rest of their lives gave him a vast feeling of contentment.
Still the worries and the doubts plagued him, but they were largely insignificant compared to the happiness he experienced just by looking at her drooling slightly on her pillow. If he could feel such euphoria, such longing, then surely he could find some way to make her just as happy. Rhys was willing to sacrifice everything for her now and once they were married, and if it meant allowing people to invade his privacy, then so be it. If Dani needed the occasional picnic or ball to keep her happy, he would oblige her dutifully. Nothing seemed to matter as much as the woman snoring softly on a bed of white linen, wearing the tightest gown he’d ever seen on a person. All his insecurities, all his scars… that didn’t matter now.
“Danielle,” he breathed softly, not sure if he intended to say it.
A snore an octave louder than all the others was his answer.
He sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. Gently, tenderly, he touched her shoulder and gave her a little shake, bending down close to her face and murmuring, “Danielle, wake up.”
With an uproarious grunt, she lurched upright, eyes flaring, and collided against his forehead.
He was sure she broke his head.
If not, then definitely cracked his skull.
Cursing, Rhys rubbed his aching forehead, giving her a glare for measure. He noted that she, too, was in a considerable amount of agony, rubbing her face furiously.
“I’m sorry!” she whined achingly.
“It’s quite alright,” Rhys remarked dryly. “I’ll ensure to keep my distance from slumbering dragons in the future or, lest I forget, ensure to cover my head with a helmet.”
She studied him in an ill-amused manner, her lips pursed as she dropped her hand from her forehead. “You’re late.”
“Am I?” Rhys asked wryly. “I wasn’t aware that we had set a time. Pray tell, what hour had you deigned unlate in your mind?”
“Unlate is not a word,” she retorted haughtily.
“It is now.”
At that, she looked incredulous before her lips twitched. Rhys knew she was about to smile but was fighting off the urge stoically. “The point is,” she continued, the sternness in her voice wobbling, “that you are late and-”
“I am not late.”
“- it is impolite to keep a lady waiting,” she finished pointedly.
Rhys nearly laughed at her indignation when he had but moments ago come across her sleeping like a baby. Waiting, indeed. “Correct me if I am wrong,” he began laughingly, “but is it not ill-mannered to fall asleep during the wait for one’s assignation?”
Her mouth fell open in shock, a blush spreading across her cheeks. “You beast!” she hissed, but her eyes were dancing with laughter. “How utterly despicable to point that out. I would have thought-”
“Oh, do indulge me on your thoughts, Miss Carmichael,” he growled huskily, leaning in to her so that she was forced to lie partly against her pillows. “I would love to know what’s swimming around in that little head of yours.”
“Little?” Her brows were pulled together in a frown and Rhys resisted the urge to kiss the puckered skin between her eyes. He was smiling, a few inches from her face, and she was not. The little vixen was clearly not amused by his teasing. “You, sir, are a derogative, conceited-”
“Charming-”
“Arrogant-”
“Deceptively personable-”
“Boorish baboon!” she finished heatedly with a triumphant smile.
“Boorish baboon?” Rhys repeated before bursting with laughter. She was adorable, not t
o mention innovative. “I have been called many things,” he chuckled, “but a baboon?”
She was pert when she next replied, “I think it is a suitable description.”
“I think you are a vexing woman.”
Dani placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed him away, her eyes narrowed. “This is hardly the romantic proposal I was promised! You are not providing enough incentive for a positive response, my lord.”
Rhys smiled wolfishly. “I can think of many ways to give you incentive,” he told her suggestively, “but we’d first have to get that ridiculous gown off-”
“Lord Ashcroft, I was promised flowers and romance,” she interrupted him quickly, blushing, “and I shan’t be appeased until I get it.”
Rhys sighed. He had been enjoying getting her flustered. “Fine. Close your eyes.”
She looked at him suspiciously.
“Just do it.”
With one last wary glance, she did as he told her to. “No peeking,” he reminded her as he rose off the bed and collected the tulips. Unceremoniously, he dumped them in her lap.
Dani looked down, surprised, before turning wide eyes onto him. “You shouldn’t have,” she said sarcastically. “And here I was, worried.”
“You said you wanted flowers,” he protested, recalling the trouble he went through dragging them through her window.
“What point are the flowers without the romance?” she sighed, almost forlornly, before gathering the dishevelled blooms and taking them to her vanity and setting them carefully down. “Thank you, though. They are quite lovely.”
She stood and faced him, her hands held in front of her, and her innocence struck him profoundly. Ingenuousness and loveliness squeezed into a dress two sizes too small for her, yet absurdly long. Her toes peeked out from under a hem that dragged on the floor. Despite all this, she looked delightfully pretty, her hair draped over her shoulders and back. It was one of the few times he had seen her hair loose, long and thick, as it coiled towards her waist.
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