Page 121 of The Rake's Daughter
Her grip on the door handle tightened. Her knuckles whitened.
He continued. “Now, the morning after, and in the cold—and drizzly—light of day, I’m wondering, are you having any doubts? Do you wish to change your mind? Because if you do...” He couldn’t finish. He had no idea what he’d do if she had changed her mind.
He waited, his heart thudding so loud it was a wonder she couldn’t hear it over the sound of the rain.
“Doubts?” Her face was like marble. “No. Why? Haveyouchanged your mind?”
“Me?” His jaw dropped. “Good God no, marrying you is still my dearest wish.”
Color washed into her pale cheeks. It was like watching dawn breaking. With a little smile, she carefully closed the door, turned and flung herself bodily across the room and into his arms. He caught her against his chest, staggered back and landed on the daybed, with Belle on top of him. His arms tightened around her.
She laughed softly. “Here we are again. Good morning, Leo.” She peppered his face with tiny warm kisses. He buried his face in her hair and breathed in her fragrance. Rain and sweet warm woman.
After a moment she drew back and hit him lightly on the shoulder. “You gave me such a fright just then. Why would you imagine I’d changed my mind? Didn’t you believe me last night?”
“I thought I might have pushed you into it.”
She gave a gurgle of laughter. “Oh, Leo, when have I ever given in to your pushing?”
He gave a rueful smile. “True enough.” He kissed her again. “I suppose once I marry you I’m in for an exhausting life under the cat’s paw.”
Mischief danced in her eyes. “Exhausting, certainly.” She gave a little wriggle that sent hot darts through his body.
They were distracted then by a rapping on the door. Matteo stood outside, peering out from under a giant black umbrella. Rain poured off it in cascades. He shook the umbrella and stepped inside. “All good, milor’? We go ahead with everything?”
Leo nodded. “Yes. Everything. And deliver my note to Miss Studley. Eleven o’clock.” He suddenly recalled that Race had planned to call on him this morning, to discuss the fallout from the Pomphret incident. “And when Lord Randall arrives send him out here, too.”
Matteo bowed. “Very good, milor’.” Wreathed in smiles he bowed again, even lower, this time to Isobel. “Felicitations, Miss Isabella. You make us all very, very ’appy.” He closed the door and disappeared.
***
Matteo is such a dear.” Izzy tugged lightly on Leo’s neckcloth, ruining its careful arrangement. She loved seeing him in slight disarray. He was normally so neat and stiff and buttoned up, but when the man let himself loose—she shivered deliciously—he was magnificent. She was determined it would happen often in their future.Their future.A thrill ran through her. “What is happening at eleven o’clock?”
“Breakfast.”
“Oh, is that all?”
“Is that all?” He snorted. “You haven’t had one of Matteo’s breakfasts yet. He has found a superb Neapolitan chef. I don’t know where he finds these people, but I’m very grateful.”
She rubbed her cheek against his chest. “You know what I’d do if I had piles of money?”
He quirked an eyebrow. “No, what?” There was onlycuriosity in his face, no hint of suspicion. He wasn’t thinking of her as a gold digger. The thought warmed her.
“I would buy a hotel, put Matteo in charge of it and make him an equal partner.”
He didn’t look too impressed. “I could, I suppose, but then I’d lose his exclusive services.”
“He’s wasted just looking after you.”
“Wasted?” Cupping her face in his hands, he attempted a stern glare, but his flinty gray eyes were dancing, and his dimple—the one he claimed didn’t exist—was showing. Oh, but she did love seeing that dimple. “Wait until you’ve had one of his breakfasts before you make such an appallingly ignorant judgment. And recall that in a short time he’s going to be looking after you, as well.”
She laughed and kissed him. “How short a time?” She still could hardly believe that she was going to marry this wonderful man.
“As soon as we can arrange it.” Leo’s fingers slipped slowly along her jawline and buried themselves in her hair.
She flinched self-consciously. “Oh, don’t, it’s awful—all frizzy from the rain.” She should have tied it back in a bun as usual, but she’d been in such a hurry to see him again she hadn’t bothered.
“It’s not frizzy, it’s beautiful, like spun silk. Magical. You have no idea how much I have longed to do this.” He lifted handfuls of her hair, buried his face in it and breathed rapturously in. “Glorious.” He smiled down at her. “Now, where were we?” He bent to kiss her again.
