by Sally Orr
She joined his serenade. “My spirits are mounting, my heart’s full of glee. In your eyes, true love do I see.”
Parker wrapped his arm around her shoulder and repeated his declaration into her ear before thoroughly kissing her. “I love you.”
“I will never tire of hearing those words.” She sighed, still under the heady effects of absolute bliss.
“Are you well? Your eyes appear glazed.”
“There is something about the mesmerizing tone of your voice I enjoy, a sort of rumbling perhaps.”
“Rumbling? I don’t know much about noises, but my father can imitate every birdcall. Does my rumbling voice bother you?”
“Oh no, not bother exactly. It gives me a funny feeling everywhere inside my body though.”
“Rumble is good.” Parker gave her a sly smile that lingered on the corner of his mouth. “May I request permission to kiss my intended again? There. Did I rumble that time?”
She chuckled and nodded.
Parker proceeded to kiss her thoroughly once again—an experiment she truly enjoyed and returned, if not with great finesse, at least with all of her heart. “I love you too,” she managed to whisper when the opportunity arose.
Glancing up at the balloon, she noticed hundreds of what looked like little pieces of paper flying around the basket. “Look.”
They stood and discovered hundreds of white and colored butterflies hovering near their basket. The air seemed alive. Some flew upward, some downward, and some even flew into and around the bottom of the basket. They became surrounded with hundreds of gleaming wings appearing to fold upon themselves, shimmering like a moving cloud.
“How beautiful,” he said, lifting his hand and holding it steady to see if a butterfly might land. “Have you ever seen this before? Is this a new discovery that you must report?”
She slowly twirled, absorbing the beautiful sight. “Yes, I have seen this twice before, but not this many butterflies. Funny thing, birds are frightened by balloons, and I’ve never seen a bird at this elevation. But insects don’t appear to be afraid.” She held his free hand, and they waited until a tiny creature landed on Parker’s hand. The animal flexed his wings. “I think they have come to wish us well, like the guests at a wedding.” She leaned close to the creature still on Parker’s hand. “Thank you, little one.” The butterfly rose in the air to join the others.
He grinned broadly.
They held hands and watched the butterflies circle and dance, until they dispersed and flew away some ten minutes later.
“I suppose we must land before we go too far,” he said. “And because we are under circumstances that are not ideal for romance, I can promise you much more rumbling in the future, when we are alone.” He placed his forehead on hers. “Then one day, soon I hope, I will demonstrate my love all night long until you know what happens?”
She smiled. “I cannot imagine. Let me guess: I sing?”
He lowered his eyelids until he appeared almost sleepy. “After our nights of lovemaking, I promise you will want to sing every day we are married.”
She absolutely believed him. “I’m not much of a songstress, but I can make a sound of apparent satisfaction.”
His eyes widened before they both burst out laughing.
She wrapped her arms around his waist, silently vowing to never let go. “And besides my testimony, you can use my singing as proof.”
“Proof of what?”
“Proof that you won the earl’s race, because your actions have been the true definition of Service to a Lady.”
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About the Author
Sally Orr worked for thirty years in molecular biology research. One day, a cyber-friend challenged her to write a novel. Since she is a hopeless Anglophile, it’s not surprising that her first series is Regency romance. She lives with her husband in San Diego, surrounded by too many books and not enough old English cars.