Page 48 of What's an Earl Gotta Do?
“Yes.”
He flexed his hips, pressing his arousal against her leg. “And do you feel that?”
This time her voice was a squeak. “Yes!”
“Good. And do you still not believe that I truly want you?”
“No,” she replied, breathing hard. “I believe you.”
He gave her one of his characteristic Michael Looks then, one she recognized as his Obstinate Face. Whenever she saw that expression, she knew that her choices were to give in or to prepare for a very long argument, because he would never give up until he got his way. “Then you’ll marry me?” he asked.
She swallowed. “Yes.”
“Now see here, Anne—wait, you will?”
“Of course I will. So long as it’s what you truly want and, although I don’t pretend to understand why, it seems that it is. You’re exactly the type of man I’ve always hoped to marry.” She shook her head. “More than that, even. You, Michael Cranfield, are the very finest man I know.”
Anne knew she would never forget the smile that broke over his face when she said that. As many years as she’d known Michael, she had never seen him look happier than he did in that moment.
She didn’t have long to behold the expression, because the next thing she knew, he was kissing her again. This kiss was rather less successful than their first attempt, largely on account of the fact that neither of them could stop smiling. And then Michael threw his head back and laughed. He surged to his feet as he grabbed her around the waist and began spinning her around in a circle. She threw her arms around his neck, and their laughter echoed off the stone walls of the garden that surrounded them.
He eventually settled them both on the bench, her again on his lap. She rested her head against his.
“I’m so happy,” he murmured.
“I am, too.”
“I wish we could stay here forever, just like this.”
Anne wasn’t so sure. Her skin was tingling. Everywhere. And that spot between her legs was still throbbing. With Lord Wynters, the act of making love had never taken more than five minutes, even on her wedding night. Anne had never felt this way before, but she suspected she knew what was going on. After she became a married woman, it was almost as if she’d been initiated into a club, and the ladies around her didn’t filter their conversation in quite the same way they once had. They were just little comments and jokes made in passing, but they were enough for Anne to conclude that she was missing out on… something. And she was starting to suspect that things might be different with Michael.
So, as nice as this was, when she thought about sitting together on a bench for the rest of their lives?
She could suddenly think of someplace she would much rather be.
“I don’t,” she muttered, almost without thinking.
He sighed. “I suppose you’re right. No doubt our absence has already been noticed. We should probably head back inside.”
Anne bit her lip. She might as well be honest. They were to be married, after all. And judging by the still-present bulge in Michael’s trousers, he was feeling more or less the same way. “That’s actually not what I meant.”
Michael cocked his head. “Oh?”
“It’s just…” Anne swallowed. “I am a widow after all, and we’re to be married, and… um...”
Michael’s eyes were growing intense. “Yes?”
“And I see a gate behind us, and my house is actually just around the corner, and... and...” She ducked her head.
His eyes had turned glassy, his jaw slack. When he spoke, his voice was disbelieving. “Let me make sure I understand. Are you suggesting that we leave this ball right now, go back to your house, and… and make love?”
Oh, dear God, why had she suggested it? She wondered if she would fit beneath the bench. It seemed like a good enough spot to curl up in a ball and die of mortification. “I… er… yes?”
He stood so quickly Anne didn’t even have time to find her balance before he grabbed her hand and towed her toward the garden gate. “That,” he said over his shoulder, “is the best suggestion I have ever heard.”
Chapter 18
It appeared that the garden gate had not been opened in some time, for its seams were overgrown with moss, and it did not yield to the firm push Michael gave it. Anne was about to suggest they circle back through the house when Michael lowered his shoulder, took three running steps, and rammed it.
