‘I know.’ Luke tried not to look too smug because he knew that vexed her, but he couldn’t help a bit leaking out and this earned him a haughty glare. ‘I think, at this stage, we are the worst kept secret in London.’
‘Evidently.’ She sighed as she smiled. ‘Therefore, you will be delighted to also know that I have decided to embrace the public exposure by making our courtship completely official with a definitive statement which cannot be misconstrued. Hence this waltz. When everybody knows I rarely dance, and I have certainly never danced this in public. Consider yourself honoured, Lord Trouble.’
He did. The only way Hope would take such a big step was if she trusted him completely. ‘Does this mean I can publicly tell you that you have never looked more ravishing?’
‘It does.’ Her arm snaked tighter around his shoulder, bringing her delectable body scant inches from his and scandalously closer than propriety allowed. ‘Furthermore, if you manage to finish this waltz without once stomping on my toes with your big, cloddish Cornish feet, I might even allow you to ravish me by the fountain afterwards. And with no fear of my pushing you in it either.’
* * *
That hadn’t been an empty promise. As soon as the dance was done, they crept out into the garden, and indulged in the most splendid mutual ravishing which Luke was still reeling from hours afterwards. There was no chance of all that lust abating any time soon either, as the moment she emerged on the balcony in that seductive red gown, every drop of blood he possessed rushed to his groin and still seemed to have no desire to leave it an hour in.
‘I wish I wasn’t going to Bath.’
‘We still have another whole day left.’ Only the one. Which was likely why they were both still out here procrastinating when it was long past their usual bedtime.
She huffed, sadness written all over her lovely face. ‘And I have to spend half of it with Mr Cooper.’ He was flattered that her dreams didn’t mean more than him.
‘That will only take a couple of hours and you’ll be mine from noon. How about I meet you then at Gunter’s and I’ll treat you to one of those dreadful purple ice creams you like?’ She nodded, still looking sad and he couldn’t bear it. ‘And in a few weeks, I will stop by Bath with my mother to see you and perhaps you and your sisters could accompany us to Tregally. I am sure you would appreciate a change of scenery then.’ He knew already that a contrived and brief visit to Bath wouldn’t be enough to stem his longing.
‘Even so... I shall miss you.’ She was leaning against the wall so she could look up at the stars. There was something different about her tonight. An easiness about their relationship and a new confidence in her body which suited her immensely.
‘Not as much as I shall miss you.’
Still staring out at nothing, Hope sighed. ‘If I ask you an intensely personal question, Luke, will you answer it honestly?’
‘I might.’
She slanted him a peeved glance. ‘Then I shan’t bother asking it.’
‘All right—I’ll answer honestly.’
‘Promise?’
He drew a cross over his heart with his index finger, feeling it quicken as it did so because something, he had no clue what, seemed to have shifted and even the air around them was filled with expectation.
‘Why have you ordered three dozen yellow rose bushes for Tregally?’
He was going to strangle his mother for her meddling, when Hope wasn’t one to be rushed into anything, especially if nudged. ‘Because they are your favourite.’
‘But why plant them in your house in Cornwall when I am here?’
She was staring at him now, part knowing, but with enough doubt he understood she needed to hear the truth to fully trust the enormity of it. ‘I suppose, because I was rather hoping it might be our house in Cornwall some day.’
She was quiet for a moment, her expression thoughtful. ‘When do you envisage some day to be?’
His stupid heart was now threatening to beat out of his chest. He hadn’t expected to be having this sort of conversation now. He had assumed, that like everything about their romance, it would edge forward incrementally. She had only just granted him his first dance and by default acknowledged publicly that there was a relationship between them. In his head, he had set a reasonable target for next spring to make things more official. When he had whittled away all her doubts and sorted out exactly what he was going to do here. ‘I suppose that depends upon you and how far away you need some day to be before you are prepared to take a chance on me.’ Which was clearly at a potentially much faster speed than he had anticipated.
Perhaps too fast?
His already racing pulse ratcheted up a bit more.
‘And if I didn’t need it to be that far?’
Where he expected panic came relief. It washed through him like the Writtles’ infamous champagne, leaving him dizzy and grinning. ‘Then I am game if you are and I’d happily march you up the aisle tomorrow.’
Still resolutely staring out into the night, she slowly smiled before she turned to him. ‘You’d have to ask first.’
‘I thought I just did.’
‘Not properly.’
‘When do we ever do things properly, Hope?’
‘Still...’ She folded her arms, which did wonderous things to her cleavage, and tapped her foot impatiently.
‘Oh, for goodness sake!’ He couldn’t help but laugh as he dropped to one knee. ‘Hope—will you do me the honour...’
‘Wait!’ She was giggling too, then she hoisted up her skirts and flung one shapely leg over the railing. ‘There absolutely cannot be a balcony between us. Not for something this momentous.’
Luke scrabbled to his feet to help her and she practically fell on him on the other side as she leapt across the three-foot gap more frantically than intrepidly, clinging to him in obvious relief as he caught her and assisted her over the second railings. Instantly his eyes dropped to her lips but as he dipped his head to taste them, she shoved him out of the way. ‘Back down on your knees if you please, Lord Trouble. If it is the last thing I ever manage to do, I shall make you do at least one thing properly in this courtship.’
With as much solemnity as he could muster, and with both of them still laughing at the utter, wonderful absurdity of it all, he did as she commanded and took her hand. ‘Hope...’ He frowned, racking his brains for any recollection, then shook his head. ‘Do you have a second name?’
‘It’s Prudence.’
‘Of course it is.’ He couldn’t help but roar at that. With her overly cautious nature it somehow seemed more fitting. ‘Very well... Hope Prudence Brookes, would you do me the great honour of consenting to be my wife?’
For a split second she strapped on her haughty bravado, examining her nails while doing her best to stifle the sparkling sunshine in her eyes. ‘I might.’
‘Might?’ He was all done kneeling and tugged her into his arms to nuzzle the sensitive spot at the base of her ear which always made her sigh. ‘What you mean is yes, Luke. Of course I’ll marry you. You are the man of my dreams. My heart beats for you and my body yearns for you. Ravish me again this instant.’
She arched to give him access and looped her arms around his neck. ‘You’re incorrigible.’
But she was most definitely sighing as his lips found the right place. ‘That I am, but I suspect you’ll still marry me anyway.’
CHAPTER TWENTY
There was something about the way Luke kissed her which always completely scrabbled her wits, and this one was no exception. He started with her neck, his big hands exploring the curve of her waist and hips, only moving to her mouth when she had shamelessly splayed herself against him to prevent him prolonging the agony further.
Except this time, as his lips whispered over hers, something felt very different.
She felt very different.
It might ha
ve been his proposal. It might have been the heady knowledge that he adored her enough to plant not one, but two separate beds of yellow roses for her. It might also have been the romance of the waltz and the sublime intimacy of the beautiful starlit night around them now, or her imminent trip to Bath which made everything feel so poignant. But whatever it was, she was prepared to take Maria’s advice and stride boldly towards it for a change, rather than shy away from it, paralysed by fear. She had done too much of that with him and he deserved better. He had always been her friend first and foremost. Her ally and her confident. Soon, he would be her husband too and they would have exactly the sort of marriage she had always dreamed of. One of two equals and mutual respect.
Except with Luke there would also be passion. An aspect of a partnership which she had underestimated, not understanding that a man’s desire could be a beautiful and liberating thing instead of a violation. She was excited by the rigid press of his hardness against her belly. Curious about it and the next stage of their relationship. The intimacy of living with a man. Being with a man. Waking up next to him each morning. Going to bed with him at night. Seeing his naked body again—but being able to touch it and explore it. Succumb to it. Both friends and lovers—husband and wife.
When the tone of the kiss inevitably turned carnal as the mutual lust between them quickly burned too hot and once again became unbearable, it was Luke, as usual, who pulled away, trying to rescue them both before the sublime pull of it banished all good sense.
He held her at arm’s length, his breathing gloriously erratic and his intense gaze darkened by desire, and she realised that, as usual too, he was giving her all the power. For Luke, his own needs and wants always came secondary to hers, and likely always would. She knew that now without a shadow of a doubt. There was no ulterior motive. No hidden agenda. To him she was more than a conquest. He adored her.
All of her. Body and soul.
Wanted to marry her and would probably spend the rest of his life doing everything in his power simply to try and please her, and doubtless making the odd hash of it because he adored her most of all.
With him by her side, it was hard to feel pessimistic. Luke was all optimism and solutions rather than disappointments and defeat. The light to her shade and the love of her life.
She stared deep into his eyes, saw the emotion as well as the desire swirling in them, and knew the depth of his feelings mirrored hers. As she cupped his cheek, she smiled. His mother was right—what was she waiting for?
In less than thirty-six hours she was going away and wouldn’t see him for an eternity. Only a fool would waste a moment of that.
Instead of allowing him to be the noble gentleman and the eternal rescuer, the natural sensual and feminine part of her which she always tried to suppress came to the fore. She traced her fingers lovingly down his cheek, then boldly traced the pad of one around his lips, biting her own because they ached for him so much. His eyes dropped to them and heated, and simply because she suddenly felt all powerful and wantonly, sinfully wicked, she gave in to the urge to undo his cravat slowly unwinding it from his neck.
‘Are you trying to kill me, woman?’ His breath hitched as her lips nuzzled his jaw and the muscles in his chest bunched beneath his clothing as she ran her palms over them. ‘There is only so much restraint I can muster.’
She answered his question with a kiss so decadent and thorough, they were both panting by the end of it.
By then she had undone each and every button on his waistcoat, and her greedy hands had not only untucked the tails of his shirt from his trousers but had burrowed beneath it to feel the heat of his skin. Skin she hadn’t been able to forget since the day she had seen it all exposed and soaking wet on this very balcony. However, this time his nipples were puckered with desire and not the cold, and his heartbeat beneath her palms was like a rapid hammer against his ribs. His expression wasn’t the least bit cocky and smug. It was wary. Questioning. Hopeful.
She unsettled him.
Overwhelmed him—and that knowledge was intoxicating.
The infamous red gown now felt too tight. Too much of a barrier between her needy body and his. Hope craved his touch, ached for it. Yet so far, his hands had remained too respectful and would remain so unless she invited him to be otherwise.
‘I wore this dress for you, Luke.’ She didn’t recognise her voice. It was sultry. Seductive. She kissed him again. Used her teeth to nibble on his bottom lip, wanted to explore how far she could push him before he cracked. ‘Do you like it?’
‘Yes.’
His voice was gruff. Slightly strangled because he was holding himself back. So she did the only thing she could think of to set him free while enslaving him further. She tugged him by the hand into the dimly lit privacy of his bedchamber and then turned her back to him.
‘Good...then help me out of it.’
She heard him swallow as he hesitated. Heard his indecision. Could imagine how his nobleness and need to always do the right thing warred with the base urges all men suffered from.
She smiled as she removed a pin from her hair and the fat curl bounced against her shoulder, enjoying leading him into temptation. ‘I am inviting you to bed, my Luke...exactly as you requested.’
His fingers were clumsy on the laces, his soft breath uneven against her neck. Twice he gave in to the urge to press his lips to where her pulse beat but the effort it took to stop at that was palpable. As soon as the bodice was loose he stepped several feet back. Rescuing her again in case she had a change of heart and she loved him all the more for that selfless gesture.
As he watched her, she slid the garment from her shoulders until gravity took it to puddle on the floor around her feet. Only then did she turn around, suddenly feeling every inch the sultry vixen or Aphrodite she had so often been called. Only this time, she wanted to be those things, expressly for him. She had never stood quite so confidently in only her undergarments before, usually loathing the sight of her cumbersome breasts trying to break free over the top of her stays. But Luke’s eyes were on fire as he took it all in and tried and failed to keep his gaze fixed on her face.
Yet his lust-filled stare didn’t feel the least bit like a violation, more like a benediction, because he wanted all of her.
For ever.
When she walked towards him this time, he didn’t hesitate at all. He hauled her into his arms and as he poured his heart into the kiss, he allowed his hands to wander, filling them with her still-bound breasts while the stark, impressive evidence of his desire pressed insistent and proud against her.
In a frenzy of lips, tongues and teeth, they stumbled backwards on to the bed. His fingers found every other pin in her hair until it tumbled wildly around her shoulders. Hers tugged his shirt up his body and over his head before they headed to his waistband and she undid that too, pausing only long enough so her stays could be tossed to the floor and she could tug the tight fabric from his hips. Then, as she sat back on her heels as his manhood sprang free, her nerves finally got the better of her.
They must have shown in her expression, because tenderness instantly replaced Luke’s fervour. ‘I won’t hurt you, Hope. I couldn’t...’ He cupped her cheek, looking every bit as overawed as she. ‘I love you.’
‘I know.’ It wasn’t that which had brought her up short. ‘I love you too, Luke...so very much.’ So much, it rocked her to her core. ‘And I am not scared.’ Not of that at least. But now that he was naked—at her instigation—he would expect her to be the same, and she wasn’t sure she was brave enough, and certainly wasn’t confident enough, to show him everything as brazenly as he.
To cover it, she leaned over him to kiss him again, intent on distracting him from the fear he had seen in her eyes, but as she reached for the lamp to snuff it out, he caught her wrist. ‘It hardly strikes me as fair that you get to see me, but I am denied the pleasure of seeing you.’ From beneath
her, two dark and much too clever eyes seemed to bore into her soul as his hands smoothed the last layer of her chemise from her shoulders, then he smiled when she clutched it tight to her chest.
‘And there I was thinking you were fearless.’
‘Frankly, there is just too much of me to be fearless.’ She didn’t have the compact and neat figures of her peers.
‘Thank goodness.’ He was smiling. Amused by her sudden prudishness. Above her hands, he traced the top of her breasts with his finger. ‘Don’t judge me, but it is one of the things I have always liked about you.’
‘And the thing about myself I most dislike.’
‘I know...but for all the wrong reasons. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, blessed with the most sinful and tempting body.’ He wound a finger in one of the curls that rested against her nipple, purposely grazing it as he did so. ‘And I am going to need to kiss it all if I’m going to make love to you properly.’ Looking her dead in the eye, he grinned and tugged the fabric some more. ‘Or is it your plan to keep your breasts hidden until death do us part, because I can tell you now that isn’t going to happen as I’ll hatch a cunning plan to get my wicked way soon enough. I am resourceful like that.’
He was and when he put it like that, her reluctance to bare all now did sound a bit daft. ‘I have fantasised about this moment for months, Hope, but I am happy to wait a few more to consummate our love if you think it might improve your self-confidence.’
Then to vex her, he folded his hands under his head, his cocky, lopsided grin letting her know in no uncertain terms that he knew she couldn’t go another hour, let alone another month without feeling him inside her.
* * *
She let the flimsy garment fall and he almost groaned aloud as a painful bolt of lust ricocheted through him. Instead, he sighed as his eyes drank her in. Her breasts were full and round and perfect, capped with dusky nipples which he was desperate to taste. The trim waist flared over the generous hips he loved, and as she primly knelt on the mattress awaiting his judgement, only the top of the red curls which nestled between her pale thighs were visible.
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