Page 18 of When the Marquess Was Mine
“Wasn’t I coming to visit you?”
“Obviously,” she said tartly. “But I was not expecting you and was very much astonished by your appearance!”
Ah. A surprise. He grinned. Yes, he liked that thought. “Do I do that often? Surprise you?”
“Constantly,” she muttered, almost to herself.
That also pleased him. “The doctor said you saved me.”
She rolled her eyes. “If anyone did, it was Adam, the groom.”
“The doctor said you’ve been tending me ever since.”
Her brows went up. “Do you want another nurse? I can wake the doctor, he’s asleep on the sofa—”
“No!” He abandoned his attempts to tease some declaration of devotion out of her, and snagged her hand as she started to rise. “Please don’t wake him.” He struggled to shove himself upright. “I’d prefer you over anyone, but especially him. He talks far too much.”
She had gone still the moment he took her hand. Now she gave a tiny snort of laughter. “You have no idea. You’ve been asleep, and haven’t had to listen to him for three endless days.”
He winced at the thought. “He can go home.”
“Good luck persuading him of that, my lord.”
Her hand felt very nice in his. He turned it over, touching the smooth skin of her wrist. “Are we always so formal?”
“Er... what?”
“With each other.” Her skin was mesmerizing, like warm silk. “Georgiana.”
She jumped, yanking her hand from his. “We—that is—yes, we are somewhat formal with each other. As is proper.”
Proper. He frowned a little, not liking that word. “Very proper?” Surely he’d stolen a kiss by now. He must have made love to her hand, which was simply perfect.
“Properlyproper,” she said tightly.
“Could we stop?” He gave her a coaxing smile. “I am very injured, you know. It’s extremely taxing to my brain.”
Instead of smiling or agreeing at once, she went pale. “Stop?”
“Being so perfectly proper.” His eyes were starting to grow heavy again. Damn it. There was still so much he needed to ask. “Do I call you Georgiana?”
Her lips parted. “You may,” she squeaked.
Meaning he didn’t already. It sounded like he’d needed that hard knock on the head. Well, now that he’d got one, he planned to take shameless advantage of it. “And you shall call me Robert.” That name felt familiar, but still slightly off. “Rob,” he tried, and felt better. “Yes, Rob.”
She looked aghast. “That would be wrong!”
“To call your future husband by his name?” He forced his eyes open at that. “How so?”
“We—our engagement—well, itisonly an engagement...”
“How long?”
She clamped her lips shut and glared at him.
“How long have we been engaged?” he pressed.
“Two years,” she muttered. “Almost two and a half.”
