Page 93 of The Viscount and the Vixen
“You’re my wife.”
“Not because you wanted me to be.”
“I want you to be tonight.” With his free hand, he cradled her cheek. “Tonight you’ll be the most beautiful woman there, the most generous, the most mysterious, the cleverest, the boldest. And the only one without a piece of jewelry.”
Her stomach loosened. “So this is for you, so your wife doesn’t appear to be a pauper.”
“We’ll say that’s the case if it’ll allow you to take it.”
Which meant it wasn’t the case. “Was it your mother’s?”
“No. I purchased it this week. It occurred to me that I’ve never seen you wear jewelry.”
“I wear a ring.”
“Then wear this as well.” He took her hand and closed it around the velvet. “One is always supposed to be grateful for a gift.”
“I’ve never known one not to come without strings.”
“No strings, Portia. You’re the wife of a lord and as such, you should wear jewelry.”
So it was his pride. Easier to accept knowing that. But when she opened the case, when she saw the beautiful pearl necklace and matching bracelet, she couldn’t refrain from releasing a sigh of pleasure.
“You like it?”
It was strange to hear the doubt in his voice, to know her opinion mattered.
“It’s perfect. Simple yet elegant. I didn’t realize you had such good taste.”
“I married—” He stopped, cleared his throat and took the velvet box from her.
She could only surmise that he’d been about to say that he’d married her as a sign of his good taste, and then thought better of it. It showed his bad taste whether he knew it or not. Taking the necklace, he moved in behind her and secured it at her throat.
Gazing at her reflection in the mirror, she couldn’t believe how the small pearls transformed her, at least providing the illusion she was a lady. He placed her bracelet at her wrist.
She touched his jaw. “I don’t deserve you, and you certainly deserve better than me.”
“I’m not so certain then that we’re not well matched if we both think the other deserves better.”
She was devastated with the realization that he thought she deserved better than him. All she could do was ensure that she was worthy of him. She touched her fingers to the cool pearls at her throat. “I’m the luckiest woman in all of London to have you as my husband.”
Placing his hands on her shoulders, pressing his lips to the curve of her neck, he held her gaze in the reflection. “After we return home, I’m removing everything from you except the pearls. When I’m done with you, I promise you will consider yourself the luckiest woman in all of Great Britain.”
While a husband had the right to sit beside his wife in the coach, Locke preferred sitting across from his because it afforded him the opportunity to gaze on her more fully, to watch her more closely. Every now and then the light from the streetlamps they passed would reflect off the pearls. He’d bought them because he wanted to lavish her with gifts, wanted her to have everything she’d ever desired.
It was crushing him to realize how much he cared for her.
She was gorgeous in the blue. Whenever she looked at him, there was always a sultriness to her gaze that caused his body to react as though she’d stripped herself bare. But it was more than the sex that appealed to him. It was her generosity of spirit, the way she was uncomfortable accepting something as simple as pearls.
Those who met her tonight would be captivated. She could hold her own. Of that he had no doubt.
“It didn’t occur to me to ask if you danced,” he said.
Her lips curled up into a soft smile. “I attended a country dance or two. And I’m quite adept at following.”
“I hadn’t noticed you being quite so docile as all that.”
“You wouldn’t care for me much if I were docile.”
