Page 79 of To Marry and to Meddle
Emily could feel a tear tracing a path down her cheek, and made no move to brush it away; instead, she reached a hand up to cover the hand of his that now cupped her face.
“I don’t think you’ll regret this, Julian—I think the play will be brilliant, and you’ll be the talk of the town.”
“For better or for worse,” he agreed, his mouth quirking to one sidein that way that she adored. “But so long as you’re there on opening night, I don’t much care who else is.”
“I do love you,” she said, hooking an arm up around his neck and standing on her toes to press a kiss to his lips. Pulling back a moment later, she added, “I never would have imagined a desk could be so romantic.”
“Even more romantic than a waistcoat?” he asked, a bit of smugness evident in his voice. In fairness, she supposed he’d earned it.
“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” she replied, mock-thoughtful.
“I would,” he said, resting a hand at her waist, pulling her slightly closer. “In fact, I think I’d be perfectly happy to never discuss waistcoats with you ever again.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her jaw. “Out of an abundance of caution, you understand.”
“Julian?” she said, a bit breathless.
“Mmm?” His mouth was occupied with the spot where her jawline met her neck, his hand trailing from her cheek along her throat and then lower, lower.
“I love you,” she said. “But I’d really prefer we didn’t speak anymore at the moment, if you must know.”
“Something else in mind?” he murmured against her mouth.
“How sturdy do you think this desk is?” she asked, her heartbeat already accelerating as he began to walk her backward.
“Shall we find out?” he asked and Emily nodded, her mouth rather occupied at the moment.
And as they had cause to learn—on that morning, and on many other occasions to come—her desk was very sturdy indeed.
