Page 59 of The Danger of Desire
“But I’m sure we can find a way to make it work,” he went on. He hoped they could, anyway.
“You mean, as long as I toe the line and do as you say.”
He eyed her askance. “Is there really any chance of that?”
A hesitant smile graced her lips. “Probably not. The ‘obey’ part of the vows always sticks in my craw.”
“Personally, I prefer the part that says, ‘with my body I thee worship.’ ”
She colored deeply. “Of course you do. I’ll be doing the worshipping.”
“Actually, no. That vow is only made by the man.” He reached up to tuck a curl behind her ear, then let his hand trail down her cheek. “So I’ll be doing the worshipping, and I daresay I shall enjoy every moment.” That much was true.
A shaky breath stuttered out of her. Their gazes locked, and his mind leapt ahead to when he would have her in his bed. He could finally ease the lust that had seized him practically from the moment he’d met her.
He bent close. “As I said, dearling, I believe we can find a way to make it work.”
Her eyes turned a luminous blue that made his pulse thunder. He was on the verge of kissing her when the door banged open.
“It is time to leave, sir,” said a stalwart female voice.
Damn. Lady Pensworth had reached the end of her patience. But she could go to hell if she thought he would be ordered about like some schoolboy. “Another moment alone, madam, if you please,” he said coldly, keeping his gaze fixed on Delia’s flushed features.
The baroness bristled. “Solicitors do not stay open until all hours, my lord, so if we wish to have the settlements done in time—”
He tore his gaze from Delia to stare down her aunt. “I will not be hurried. This is too important. So I suggest you allow me a few more moments to woo my future wife.”
Lady Pensworth blinked, looking owl-eyed beneath her spectacles. Clearly, the harridan wasn’t used to being spoken to in that tone. But she had the good sense to nod and back out, though he noticed that she left the door cracked open.
It mattered not. There was only one question left to ask. “Yes or no, Delia? Will you marry me?”
She stiffened. “Don’t pretend I have a choice. You’ve made it quite clear that I do not.”
“You always have a choice. And if you choose to be ruined, I will walk out right now, and to hell with the consequences. I suppose I can weather a few years of being considered a scoundrel.” He narrowed his gaze. “But I daresay you’re not quite so much a rebel that you’d trample over the reputations of me and your family just to avoid marrying.”
She hesitated a long moment before uttering a defeated sigh. “Blast you for being right.”
Oddly, that answer reassured him. He liked her spirit, and he hoped to see more of it. But a rebel with no sense would not make him a good marchioness. “Does that mean your answer is yes?”
“It does.” She searched his face, and her expression grew calculating. “Assuming you grant me one request.”
Uh-oh. “Depends on what the request might be.”
Was that a twinkle he saw in her eyes? “I must be allowed to bring Flossie to my new home.”
A relieved laugh escaped him. “Done. If all your requests are as easy as that one, we shall rub along quite nicely, I expect.” He held out his arm. “Shall we?”
She took it with a smile that gratified him. “Lead on, my lord. It appears I have a wedding to plan.”
Her aunt came in just then, her expression softening as she saw them arm in arm. “I do hope you’re not aiming for a large wedding, niece. Because this must be done quickly, before the guests can return to London and start gossiping about what happened.”
Clarissa entered behind her. “You can marry here!” She clapped her hands in delight. “Oh, that would be such a fabulous addition to my house party. People will be talking about it for ages.”
“Wonderful,” Edwin muttered behind her, though Warren would swear he saw his friend smile fleetingly.
“Wonderful, indeed,” Lady Pensworth said. “Though it will require the acquisition of a special license.”
“I’m sure I can manage that,” Warren drawled. “The archbishop is a cousin of mine.”
