by Hilary Wilde
"Elinor . . ." he drawled.
"Kit!" she gasped, meeting him half-way, gazing up at him with wide, wondering eyes, as if unable to believe the truth of what she saw.
"Thank you for the cable," he said awkwardly.
"Thank you for the roses," she said at the same time.
For a moment they stared at one another silently.
"Maybe . . ." Kit began, and it was the first time she had known him to be unsure of himself. "Maybe we got off on the wrong foot, as Val would say, but . . . but perhaps we could start all over again?" he asked, almost timidly.
Elinor wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Dear, darling Kit--that he could be uncertain--that he could fail to know how much she loved him.
"Is it really necessary?" she asked in a whisper, the words rushing out. "We've wasted so much time already . . ." she added, and felt her cheeks burning.
He laughed suddenly. "You're right . . ." he drawled in his fascinating way. "Too much." And then he was putting his arms round her, drawing her towards him, as he added softly: "Let's not waste any more time, now .. ."
She stood in the warm circle of his arms, lifting her mouth for his first kiss. Her eyes were like stars, her face radiant with happiness. They forgot other people; it was as if they were completely alone in the world. Just the two of them. And that was the wonderful part of it—it would always be like that. Just the two of them . . .
"I love you, Lady Kia . . ." Kit said softly and kissed her again.
"Oh, Kit darling . . ." was all Elinor could say, but her shining eyes finished the sentence for her.
THE END