Melissa wondered if she’d heard correctly. “Lady Dorothy approves?” she said unbelievingly.
“No nonsense about her. With her support the ton is in the palm of our hands.”
“I never... That is, I can’t possibly... It’s not necessary, you know.”
“Are you so willing to embark upon a life of sin in my company?” He laughed as Melissa glared up at him. He caught her hands in his, not without a wince of pain. She didn’t dare pull away for fear of hurting him. “This startling lack of respectability on your part might daunt a lesser man. But I’ve no doubt of my ability to keep you in line.”
“I can’t, Giles. It’s quite impossible.”
“Would you condemn me to a lifetime with some simpering society miss? It’s not kind of you.”
“Giles—”
“Disabuse yourself of the notion I’m doing you any favor. You will marry me because I intend to bind you to me for all time with bands of iron. Nothing less will do for me. Have you any objections to make?” he demanded with mock ferocity.
Melissa shook her head mistily. There were a thousand reasons against it, obviously. At the moment she couldn’t call to mind a single one.
Giles drew her closer to him. “Splendid. I had planned,” he said regretfully, “a slightly different ending to this proposal.”
He readjusted his sling and put both arms around her, favoring his left side. Melissa cuddled close to him confidingly. Giles sighed. “But you’re safe enough with me today. Salome herself couldn’t tempt me to anything in bed but sleep.”
Holding her for a minute longer, he appeared to reconsider the matter. “On the other hand,” he continued reflectively, kissing her eyelids tenderly, “I’ve no wish to wake up some morning soon and find you’ve run off because of some silly scruple. Every legal tie and every dastardly appeal to your affections or your senses are hardly enough to reassure me. You’re far too precious to be permitted to run around loose. So how am I going to make sure of you until I can get you into church, eh?” He began to kiss her mouth gently, several very light, soft kisses.
Melissa protested, “I have no intention of going away, sir.”
“Giles.” He corrected her and kissed her not so gently upon the lips, molding her willing body against his. If his arm pained him, he was ignoring it. “A wise man,” he murmured in her ear, “makes certain of his intended.” He kissed her earlobe, teasing it with his teeth. Melissa giggled uncertainly, turning her mouth toward him to be kissed again.
There was a cough at the door, and Sir Adrian walked in. He surveyed the couple benignly as they sprang apart. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said with no noticeable contrition.
“And what in the name of hell and damnation do you want?” Giles roared.
“Nothing to excite yourself about, old boy. Lady Dorothy sends her compliments and asks you and Miss Rivenwood to attend her in the drawing room for tea.” He added, with a straight face, “She says not to tire yourself unduly.”
“The devil fly away with Aunt Dorothy and with you, too, you interfering old busybody. I’ll join my aunt in the parlor when I’m through kissing my bride-to-be and not one minute before then.”
Sir Adrian raised a mobile eyebrow. “I take it I’m to wish you happiness at last then, Giles?” he asked formally.
“Yes. And you may go and so inform Lady Dorothy and Edgar and Bedford and all the kitchen staff and the cattle in the stables, too, if you wish, just so long as you go away. You may even start spreading a discreet rumor that you’re hot on the trail of something fantastic about my future lady’s background. Then you may take yourself off to begin discovering it. Or anywhere else, so long as you take yourself off.”
“I’m nothing if not discerning. I know when I’m being hinted away,” Sir Adrian said. “So I guess I’ll be off discreetly—that was the word you used, wasn’t it?—discreetly to spread the good news. We’ll expect you anon. My felicitations, Giles. You’re a lucky man. All my best, Miss Rivenwood.” He closed the library door behind him.
Giles settled Melissa more comfortably in his arms. “I predict we have about four minutes before Aunt Dorothy sends Edgar in to interrupt us,” he said. “Let’s make the most of them, shall we?”
TO MY FOLKS
Copyright © 1983 by Joanna Watkins Bourne
Electronically published in 2011 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No portion of this book may be reprinted in whole or in part, by printing, faxing, E-mail, copying electronically or by any other means without permission of the publisher. For more information, contact Belgrave House, 190 Belgrave Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94117-4228
http://www.RegencyReads.com
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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.
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