Page 54 of Snowy and the Seven Doves
She was shifting and wriggling on his lap as she squirmed with delight at his kisses and caresses. It was the most delicious torment of his entire life, but he was going to have to end it, or he’d be behaving no better than Hungerford-Fox.
The thought of being compared to that creeping slime ball gave him the strength to gentle the kisses and draw back.
“Sweetheart, if we keep this up, I shall be begging you to take me upstairs to your bed,” he told her. Her eyes widened. A flare of interest? Promising indeed! “I hate myself for saying this, but we cannot. Pauline is waiting for us.”
She returned his wry smile with one of her own. “I know you are right, Hal. We cannot.”
“Hal, is it?” he asked, and gave her a peck of a kiss on the nose.
She blushed. “If you do not mind.”
“I like it,” he said. “A special name to be used by my brother and my wife. It is what my mother used to call me, my darling.”
He helped her to stand and did up the buttons he had undone. Together, they searched for the hairpins he had dislodged while kissing her. They did no talking, but a lot of smiling and touching. She was a dear delight, and he didn’t dare kiss her again, or they’d never make it out of this room.
She stood before the window, using the reflection to replace her hairpins, and sneaking glances at him over her shoulder. “May I ask you something?” she said.
“Anything at all,” he assured her.
“Can you tell…? That is, Martin is such a liar, I was wondering…”
“Anything,” he repeated.
“I like how you kiss, and how you touch me.” She hesitated. “Did you like it?”
Snowy nodded. “Very much.”
That seemed to make her boulder, for she nodded, decisively. “It made me think. I found Martin’s kisses and—er—other things unpleasant. He said it was because I was frigid. He said most Society ladies don’t like other things but he didn’t mind as long as I let him have…” She trailed off. “Don’t be upset, Hal. It was a long time ago.”
Snowy had to take several deep breaths before he could speak without the foulest of curses on that boil’s excretion. He should have punched Hungerford-Fox when he had the chance. It was not sporting or fair to beat him to a pulp now while he was a prisoner.
“Believe me, Margaret, he lied about that, too. Your kisses are passionate, and when we get to the ‘other things’, you will enjoy them very much, I promise you.”
“And you will?” she asked, hesitantly.
His reply was fervent. “Oh, yes.”
A hint of her usual confidence tinted her smile. “Then I look forward to it,” she told him.
He almost groaned and he suspected he looked forward to it far more than she did, for he knew what to expect.
Chapter Twenty
Pauline was delightedto be the first to wish them happy. “When are you thinking of having the wedding?” she asked.
Margaret gave Snowy an uncertain glance. She hoped it would be soon. The gossip Martin had started would not subside until she was wed, and not entirely even then. But all but the most vicious of the gossipmongers would give her the benefit of the doubt once she was married.
However, Snowy had more than enough trouble in his own life, with his challenge to the other Snowden. Perhaps he would want to wait.
He answered, “I told Margaret I wanted to court her but thought to wait until I was confirmed as viscount.” He smiled at Margaret. “Circumstances have changed that, and I could not be more pleased.”
“You should marry as quickly as possible,” Pauline told them. “I know how scandal broth brews. If you delay, it will be hard for Margaret. Those who rejoice in the pain of others will say the betrothal is just for show, and you will jilt her at the end of the Season. If you marry straight away, they will find someone else to torment.”
It was what Margaret had been thinking, but she said, “I won’t rush you, Snowy. We will wed at a time to suit ourselves.”
He took her hand again. “If you do not mind, my dearest, my preference would be to purchase a common license that will allow us to marry without posting the banns. Pauline, I saw the Duchess of Winshire this morning, and she thinks the same as you. She told me that, with a common license, we can marry after seven days.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Margaret asked.
