‘I am most certainly,’ Lucy replied.
‘And are you glad you came?’
‘Yes. I’ve never been on the river before.’
‘It will be quieter at Greenwich—the perfect place for a picnic.’
The boat drew up at some stairs. Christopher climbed out and secured it, before helping his companions out. Carrying the picnic baskets and rug, they climbed the embankment and eventually found a secluded place beneath some tall trees and not far from the water’s edge. Here the quietness could not be denied. The breeze was fresh, but seasonably warm, rustling the leaves in the trees and dappling the shade.
Christopher spread out the rug and settled on it, his back propped against a tree, content to watch as Lucy and Amelia busied themselves emptying the baskets of food and wine. Totally relaxed, they talked and laughed easily together, and watched the world sail by, and all the while Lucy was aware of Christopher’s appreciative gaze on her animated face.
In all it proved to be an enchanting afternoon and Lucy experienced a twinge of regret that it would have to end.
When some ducks left the bankside and waded into the water, half a dozen ducklings following in their wake, Amelia couldn’t resist taking some leftover bread to feed them, walking away from Lucy and Christopher.
‘She looks quite radiant,’ Lucy commented softly, resting on her knees. ‘I can’t believe she is the same young woman I saw at Rockwood Park.’
Stretching out on his side, Christopher leaned on a forearm and studied her profile from beneath hooded lids. ‘You are a strange young woman, Lucy Walsh,’ he murmured, focusing his eyes on a wisp of hair against her cheek.
Without thinking, he reached out and tucked it behind her ear, feeling the velvety softness of her skin against his fingers. She did not move away as he ran the tip of his finger down the column of her throat, along the line of her chin to her collar and the cameo brooch at her throat.
‘You are a fascinating young woman, Lucy. I find myself wanting to know everything there is to know about you.’
‘You already know a great deal about me—more than anyone else.’
‘I have learned some things, I grant you. I have also realised since we kissed at the ball that you have matured into a lovely young woman. There is little sign of the schoolgirl I met at the fair—or the young lady I kissed and who returned my kiss with such fervour before you left for France.’
‘Christopher, please!’ Resting back on her heels, Lucy gave him a reproachful look. ‘Stop it now,’ she retorted, her face heating. ‘That was a year ago. We neither of us are the same people.’
‘No? Are you saying that you didn’t enjoy kissing me?’ He reached into the basket for an iced cake and slowly began to eat.’
‘No—yes... Oh, behave yourself. I was hoping you would.’
Christopher was by no means done with her yet. He grinned. ‘Have you kissed anyone else while you have been away? They say the Italians are a passionate race—that few ladies can resist their charms.’
Lucy’s cheeks flamed with indignation. ‘No—and if I had it is none of your business. Now will you please stop tormenting me about my—slip of propriety when I let you kiss me.’
His grin widened at her embarrassment, then he gave a shout of laughter. ‘I like reminding you. I enjoy seeing you get all flushed and flustered and hot under the collar.’
She glowered at him. ‘Will you please stop making fun of me? Amelia will notice and wonder what we are talking about.’
‘I know—but I doubt she will be shocked. I have a feeling that she knows how I feel about you and is tactfully keeping out of the way—hence her sudden desire to feed the ducks.’
Unable to stay cross with him—knowing he was teasing anyway—Lucy laughed, waving to Amelia who had heard her brother’s loud laughter and was looking their way as she continued to throw bread for the gathering, greedy ducks.
Christopher lay back, linking his hands behind his head and looking up at the trees. ‘I like to hear you laugh, Lucy. I’m happy that you still can. You have a beautiful laugh.’
Hearing the sensuous huskiness that deepened his voice, Lucy could feel her pulse increase its beat. ‘You are only saying that to placate me.’
‘Do you need placating?’
She sighed, shifting her position and wrapping her arms round her drawn-up knees. ‘No. I’m having too nice a time to be cross.’
‘That’s a relief.’
When he closed his eyes, Lucy let her gaze wander over the smooth, thick lock of hair that dipped over his brow and the authority and strength in every line of his handsome face. She let her gaze travel the full length of the superbly fit, muscled body stretched out beside her. How well she remembered being held in his arms, how he had exuded raw power and a potent virility that had held her in thrall.
As if he could feel her eyes studying him, without opening his eyes, he quirked the mobile line of his mouth in a half-smile. ‘I hope you like what you see.’ He sighed. ‘You can kiss me if you want to, Lucy.’
Lucy’s eyes opened wide in astonishment, then she laughed. ‘I really cannot believe your arrogance, Christopher. I most certainly will not,’ she objected, slapping him playfully on the chest with her napkin.
With no warning he reared up. His hands shot out and, gripping her upper arms, he pulled her down on to her back. ‘If you won’t kiss me, do you mind if I kiss you?’ His voice was low pitched and sensual, his face only inches from her own.
‘Yes, I do, now—please stop it. Amelia will see. What will she think?’
‘She’s too busy feeding the ducks to notice.’ He smiled, then, and it was a wonderful smile, the kind of smile that would melt any woman’s heart. It curled beautifully on those chiselled lips and his silver eyes were full of amusement as he gazed down at her. ‘Are you not curious to find out if it will be as good as when I kissed you at the ball?’ His heavy-lidded gaze dropped to the inviting fullness of her lips, lingering there. ‘Have I told you how much I’ve missed you, Lucy?’
‘No, I don’t believe you have. Should I believe you?’
He did not even blink at her sceptical look. ‘I speak truly, for the year has dragged by. It was cruel to keep me on tenterhooks for twelve whole months and I was beginning to lose hope of you ever coming back.’
‘It was never my intent to cause you such suspense,’ she countered. ‘It was you who told me to go away and enjoy myself and partake of all the pleasures Europe had to offer—which I did, by the way, to the full.’
‘Yes, I did and I soon came to regret it. Sometimes things happen at the wrong time, Lucy. That was the wrong time for us. But words cannot express how happy I was to see you returned.’
‘Happy?’ she countered. ‘I was hoping your feelings would take on a different direction—toward futility rather than happiness since you couldn’t wait for me to be gone.’
‘Not at all. I really have missed you and I aim to convince you that I shall live for any favour and attention you care to cast my way.’
Lucy wriggled to sit up, forcing him to roll away from her. ‘Will you please stop this, Christopher? Your compliments and lavish expressions of sentiment fall on deaf ears.’
‘They do?’ he said, sitting close beside her and absently trailing his finger over her wrist. ‘And why is that, pray?’
‘Because it smacks of insincerity—and it’s unlike you and flowery speeches don’t suit you.’
‘I am being honest—and I have often complimented you on your lovely eyes and beautiful face in the past. I suppose hundreds have told you how beautiful you are on your travels.’
‘I never believed them. I keep remembering that naive young girl fresh out of the academy.’
‘You were beautiful then. You were the most captivating young woman I had ever seen, gentle and graceful and totally unaware of your beauty.’
/> ‘And now?’
‘You’re even lovelier.’
‘You just want to marry me,’ she accused lightly.
‘That’s true. I remember how pleasurable it was to dance with you, how warm your skin was to the touch and how adorable you looked when you blushed—how sweet your lips.’
Lucy rolled her eyes and began picking up the remains of their picnic and placing them in the baskets. ‘Oh, please, Christopher, do not disappoint me by resorting to flattery, for I know very well what I look like.’
He chuckled. ‘Dear Lord, Lucy! Will nothing I say please you? A man tries to be polite and complementary and gets told off for it. But I cannot forget you are female.’
‘Will you please stop this? You are talking nonsense. You will make me cross when I don’t want to be.’
‘This,’ he said with mock indignation, ‘from the woman who threw a napkin at me is cross? I do not believe it. I am the injured party.’
‘I did not throw it, I hit you with it,’ she reminded him. ‘You deserved it. Now see—Amelia is coming back so behave yourself and make yourself useful.’ She paused and looked at him, holding his gaze and allowing a smile to curve her lips. ‘Did I really blush?’
‘Delightfully so.’
‘How embarrassing.’ Her smile broadened. ‘Thank you, Christopher, for inviting me today. I’ve had a lovely day. Truly. I don’t know how to thank you.’
His heavy-lidded gaze fixed meaningfully on her lips. A dangerous light entered his eyes and a smile tempted his lips. His voice was low with a husky rasp. ‘How about agreeing to be my wife?’
‘Not yet. I would like to give your proposal serious consideration,’ she said, folding a tablecloth and placing it in the basket.
‘Keep me dangling, more like—and enjoying every minute of it.’
‘It serves you right for sending me away.’
‘It was necessary at the time, you know that. Have you any objections to me as a husband?’
‘No, of course not.’
Placing his hand under her chin, he tilted her to face to his, wanting more than anything else to eradicate the hesitation he saw in her eyes. ‘I have never asked any woman to marry me before. I’ve had mistresses, yes—but it is you that I offer marriage to. No other woman has been able to get that close. What I know is that when you were away from me you were never far from my deepest thoughts. You suit me better than any woman I have ever known. You amuse, delight and frustrate me to the point where I don’t know whether to throttle you or make love to you. You test my patience and my sanity beyond the limits of my endurance. And yet, despite all this, I still want you for my wife. Will you do me the honour of accepting my proposal—and become my wife?’
‘I—I would like a little more time.’
‘Of course, but don’t take too long thinking about,’ he murmured softly. ‘I’m not noted for my patience.’
Lucy looked directly into his face, feeling herself respond to the dark intimacy in his voice. His expression was gentle, understanding and soft. And there, plain for her to see, was the sincerity of his words. ‘Have you told Amelia?’
He shook his head. ‘Not yet. I’ll do that when I have good news to impart.’
‘And you’re sure there will be?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘Has it not entered that arrogant head of yours that I might refuse to marry you?’
Christopher looked at her for a long moment with those magnificent silver-grey eyes, then he smiled. ‘We’ll see about that,’ he told her.
* * *
That was the moment when Lucy knew that she would be his wife. She was in love with him—shamelessly, recklessly in love—and the knowledge left her strangely weak. She could hardly believe how deep her feelings were running and the joy coursing through her body melted the very core of her heart. The feeling was so strong there was no room for anything else. She could not resist these new emotions that were compelling and held her in thrall and moved her towards her destiny, for she was destined to love this man and she knew it would be futile to resist.
They left Greenwich and started back up river, slowly. Tired and happy, Lucy and Amelia were quiet, content to let the river ripple by. Lucy didn’t care how long it took. She was with Christopher and the knowledge that she had decided to marry him after all was light and lovely inside her, a wonderful effervescent feeling as though she had imbibed the finest champagne.
* * *
On reaching the house, after saying farewell to Amelia with the promise to call on her very soon, accompanied by Christopher she walked to the door where she paused.
‘I will call on you shortly, Lucy, for your answer, ahead of the throng of suitors who will soon be queuing up at your door—although you will probably accuse me of arrogance to assume you might prefer me to any of your other suitors.’
‘You don’t have to do that,’ she said, her expression serious as she looked up at him. Her feelings for him could no longer be denied.
One dark eyebrow rose as he gave her a sceptical look. ‘I don’t? Are you going to tell me you reject my suit after all the...?’
She laid her fingers gently over his lips, silencing him. ‘No, I am not. Quite the opposite, in fact. I love you, Christopher,’ she said softly. ‘I want you to know. And if your offer still stands...’ she hesitated, hopeful as she peered into his eyes ‘...I would be most honoured to become your wife.’
He stared at her with astonishment. ‘You love me?’
She nodded, a gentle flush mantling her cheeks.
‘And you will marry me, Lucy? You’re sure?’
‘I won’t change my mind. I know exactly what I want. I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. There has never been anyone else for me, Christopher, and there never will be. When I give my heart away I do it only once. Please take care of it.’
With a deep sigh of relief and absolute joy, he gathered her into his arms and held her close. ‘I promise and thank you,’ he murmured, his lips against her hair. ‘Thank the Lord you have decided to wed me at last. I cannot believe this is happening. I hoped and prayed...’ Holding her away from him, he tilted her face to his, looking deep into her eyes, searching for proof of her words and seeing the truth. ‘You are sure about this, aren’t you, Lucy? You will promise to love...’
‘And honour.’
‘And obey?’
She laughed, wrapping her arms about his waist and kissing his lips. ‘We’ll discuss that at a later date.’
‘As we will our wedding. Now before I leave we will seal our bond with a kiss.’
‘What? On the doorstep?’
‘On the doorstep where everyone can see and be either scandalised or share in our joy.’ Taking her face between his hands, he looked into her eyes. ‘I love you, Lucy Walsh, and there is nothing that I want more than to make you my wife.’
‘You do?’ Her heart soared.
His smile was filled with tenderness. ‘If you don’t believe anything else I’ve ever said to you, at least believe that.’
So saying he swept her in his arms and placed his lips on the soft curve of her cheek, before moving gently, exquisitely to her lips and assaulting her senses before raising his head and releasing her. ‘Now go inside and give Lady Sutton the good news. It is my hope that we will be married soon.’
Lucy let herself into the house in a happy state of euphoria. She could not believe what was happening to her. When he kissed her he made his feelings known, leaving her in no doubt that he was sincere when he said he loved her.
* * *
Everyone was delighted at the way things had turned out. When the betrothal was officially announced in the Post, it was received with considerable surprise, although, since Viscount Rockley’s attentiveness towards Miss Lucy Walsh had been duly noted, word was already getting out that she had won the heart of Lon
don’s most eligible bachelor.
It was arranged that they would be married at St George’s Church in Hanover Square four weeks hence. In a flap, Lady Sutton declared that it was too soon, that there was so much to be done to arrange a wedding on a scale that befit the heir of the Duke of Rockwood in a month. A guest list had to be drawn up before wedding invitations could be sent out, there were florists to be consulted and the bride’s dress to be made. But all her protestations fell on deaf ears. Both Christopher and Lucy were adamant that they did not want a lavish affair with a grand banquet and reception and that a long delay seemed pointless. There were to be few guests and one bridesmaid—Amelia, who was so happy by the whole affair that anyone who didn’t know would think she was the bride.
* * *
The Duke of Rockwood could not have been more delighted about the wedding and knew Lucy would make his grandson an excellent wife. He also made no secret of his immense pride in his grandson. He had made a rare visit to town for the wedding and when Lucy walked down the aisle wearing an ivory silk gown of incredible beauty and extravagant expense on his arm in the church bearing a spray of orchids picked from the hothouses at Rockwood Park, all the radiance in the world was shining from her large eyes, which were drawn irresistibly to the man who was waiting for her at the front of the church.
As the wedding ceremony progressed and Lucy had just repeated the vicar’s words—for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health—from the corner of her eye she exchanged a fond look with her godmother and smiled as she watched her wipe a tear from her eye. And then the ceremony was over, they were pronounced man and wife and Christopher could kiss the bride.
With a wicked glow in his eyes, but behaving with admirable restraint, taking her hand he drew her close and placed a somewhat brief but heartfelt kiss to her lips. After signing the documents that made their union legal in the eyes of the law as well as God, with broad smiles and the sound of congratulations ringing in their ears, Christopher led his bride down the aisle and out of the church.
A Viscount to Save Her Reputation Page 20