Page 100 of A Literary Liaison
In the dim moonlight, Elisha glared at him with indignation, which only seemed to make his quiet laughter deepen.
“You did not expect me to be entirely without experience in such matters, did you?” he asked, still chuckling at her expression.
“No, but I did not expect you to possess intimate knowledge of every prospect from the hundred windows on this side of the house alone.”
“Perhaps it stems from childhood games of hide and seek,” he suggested with feigned innocence, “though I confess I prefer your more scandalous interpretation.”
“Oh…” Heat crept up her neck as understanding dawned.
“Always assuming the worst about me, Miss von Linde,” he teased gently.
She bristled and quickly changed the subject. “What matter is so pressing that it could not wait until morning?”
Edgar drew a deep breath, his gaze fixed on Elisha with an intensity that seemed to pierce the very depths of her soul. The moonlight caught the sharp planes of his face, highlighting the sincerity in his expression.
“Elisha,” he began, his voice impossibly tender. “Mother has given her consent. I would be honored beyond all measure if you would grant me leave to court you properly.”
Her hand flew to her breast, as if to steady the tumultuous beatingof her heart. “What… what does that mean?” she asked softly, her voice catching in her throat.
His eyes met hers, brimming with such joy and love that it left her quite breathless. “It means that as soon as the Royal Mail negotiation concludes, I shall declare to all who will listen that I am courting you, Miss Elisha von Linde—granddaughter of a most conveniently distant Prussian baron,” he said with a knowing smile.
Edgar stepped closer, bringing them deeper into the rose-scented alcove. His hand found the small of her back, the heat of his palm burning through the thin fabric of her wrapper. “It means I shall call upon you openly, be seen with you at every social gathering, and declare to the world that you belong to me.”
His other hand settled possessively on her waist, and Elisha felt her knees weaken at the claiming touch.
Elisha’s heart thundered against her ribs. “Edgar,” she breathed, her voice trembling with emotion, “I can’t believe it…”
“Neither can I,” he said softly. “I wish we didn’t have to wait, but alas, we must for a cause greater than ourselves.”
Her body swayed toward his as if drawn by an irresistible force.
“I have something for you,” Edgar murmured, his voice rough with emotion. From his waistcoat pocket, he withdrew a ring that caught the moonlight and scattered it in brilliant facets. “This belonged to my mother, and her mother before her. It has graced the hand of every Duchess of Lancaster for three generations.”
Elisha’s breath caught as she stared at the exquisite emerald surrounded by diamonds. “Edgar, it’s beautiful, but I cannot—”
“You can,” he interrupted gently, taking her left hand in his. “Because I am asking you to be my wife, Elisha. To be my duchess, my partner, my beloved companion for all the days of my life.”
Tears sprang to her eyes as the magnitude of his words settled over her. “Are you… are you certain?”
“I am,” he said simply, his thumb tracing gentle circles on herpalm. “I am asking you to marry me, to face whatever challenges Society may present together, to build a life founded on love and shared purpose.”
“Yes,” she whispered, the word emerging before conscious thought could intervene. “Yes, Edgar, with all my heart.”
The smile that transformed his features was radiant as starlight. With infinite care, he slipped the ring onto her finger, where it settled as if it had always belonged there. “My love,” he murmured, raising her hand to press fervent kisses to her knuckles. “My future duchess.”
Unable to contain her joy any longer, Elisha stood on her toes and pulled his mouth down for a kiss that spoke of promises and passion, of a future that belonged to them both. Edgar pulled her closer, his arms tightening around her waist. Elisha melted into his embrace, her arms winding around his neck as longing and uncertainty dissolved in the heat of their connection.
When they finally broke apart, both were breathing unsteadily. Edgar’s gaze peered into hers, his pupils dark with desire.
“We should return,” Elisha murmured, though her body betrayed her words by pressing closer to his warmth.
“Should we?” Edgar’s voice was rough. His hands roamed her back, then squeezed her bottom, eliciting a gasp from her lips. “God, Elisha… I’ve thought of nothing but you since the moment we parted in Tunbridge Wells. I’ve dreamed of you…”
The low rumble of his words sent liquid heat pooling in her belly. “Edgar…”
“Say my name again,” he commanded softly, his lips finding the sensitive spot beneath her ear. “I love the way it sounds on your lips.”
“Edgar,” she gasped as his teeth grazed her throat. Her fingers threaded through his thick hair, holding him closer even as rational thought urged her to pull away.
