Page 35 of Mr. Notorious and the Nefarious November

“I wasn’t looking for romance. I wasn’t looking to fall in love. In fact, I was actively avoiding it. But I was infatuated with you from the first look. And then I danced with you, and despite the glare your sister gave me throughout the entire reel, I fell in love with you.”

“I was in love with you years before that. You know the only reason you were allowed to dance with me is because I begged Judith.”

“Years before?”

“I remember seeing you at Judith and Arthur’s wedding. You probably didn’t notice me. I was just a child, and you were almost a man at fifteen. You were already so handsome. You knew it too. You were terribly arrogant and had a cocky smile that made my childish heart pitter pat. My heart still trips every time I see you. That’s why I need to see you all the time. When I wake up. When I go to sleep. Across the breakfast table.”

He unclasped his hands from behind his head. “Are you—”

“Asking you to marry me? Yes. You asked me the first time. I thought I should ask this time.”

He jerked and sat straight up. “And you really don’t need any more tests? You trust me?”

“It was never you I didn’t trust. It was myself. I was so afraid if I married you and you left me I’d never recover from the heartbreak. I made what I thought was the safe choice with Solomon and regretted it from the start. And then when I saw you at Lavinia’s ball and you drunkenly declared your feelings for me—”

“Ah, yes. Another example of my romantic side.”

“—I was afraid I would make another mistake. I’d never stopped loving you, but I didn’t trust myself.”

“So of course, you devised a number of tests for me to prove my love, when that wouldn’t have changed anything at all.”

She shook her head. “I had to trust myself.”

“And do you?”

She straightened. “I do. I’m an intelligent woman.”

“Clearly.”

“And one bad decision doesn’t define me.”

“I hope not. I’ve made more than one bad decision.”

“Then shall we both make a good one. Will you marry me, Munro Notley?”

He sat and took her hands. “I will.”

Fear and pleasure burst within her, and then he pulled her forward, and she forgot all about the fear. Munro was kissing her, and this time it wasn’t a gentle, teasing kiss but a deep possessive kiss that took her breath away.

His hands skated under the hem of his shirt, and he ruched it up and over her head. And then his mouth was on her neck, her breasts, her belly. But he was hers now, and she wanted to stake her claim as well. She pushed him back and threw a leg over him, straddling him. His tawny eyes gazed up at her in appreciation. She bent and kissed him, loving the way his hands stroked over her then slid into her hair and twisted it around one fist. She slid her own hand down and found him hard and hot. She edged back, taking him inside her inch by inch.

Munro released her hair and grasped her hips, groaning as she lowered herself onto him. And then when she’d filled herself to the hilt, she began to rock.

“Oh, God. Yes,” he moaned. She was moaning too now as she’d found the pace and the position that gave her the most pleasure. She moved slowly, loving him, pleasing him and herself. Then her body demanded she move faster, and they were running together, he holding onto her, following her lead, weathering the storm as she climaxed in a whirlwind of sensation. She felt his release too, heard his guttural cry, and looked up to see his face as he climaxed. He was beautiful—hishair a ring of fire, his eyes almost golden. And when those eyes finally cleared and met hers, all she saw was love.

And that was all she needed.

Chapter Ten

Munro woke alone, his body pleasantly sore and muscles he’d forgotten he possessed aching with overuse.

He opened one eye and surveyed his chamber. A chair had been overturned, his clothes scattered about, the bedclothes on the rug near the fire. He lay naked in a pile of feathers from a pillow that had not been able to withstand what he and Beatrice had required of it.

Munro sat, confirming what he already knew: Beatrice was not here. At some point before dawn, she’d left him. Perhaps she hoped to avoid the notice of the charwoman who crept in while the house was still asleep to light the fire. What must that servant have thought of the state of the room?

Munro didn’t care, but Beatrice probably didn’t want to be caught in his bed and embroiled in rumors circulating below stairs.

Either that or she’d changed her mind.

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