Pretty Persuasion (37 page)

"I don't have to travel to be more than an appendage," she stated firmly. "I don't have to choose between that and what I want just as badly. Which is you, Robert. Only you. Before I dreamt of traveling, I dreamt of you. I've been in love with you for as long as I can remember. Years ago, it was childish adoration. But when you returned, I fell in love with you all over again, as a woman falls in love with the kindest, most honorable, and most decent man she has ever known."

He ached to open his eyes, but he didn't dare. He was half-afraid that she would look like she didn't mean it—and half-afraid she'd look like she did.

With a small whimper, she grabbed his hand. She'd removed her gloves, and her soft, warm palm sent a lightning bolt of pleasure and pain through him. "I had such grand plans, Robert. I would be independent and free and blissfully happy. But without you, I'd be miserable. I'd be wretched knowing you were here, with a family of your own; another woman in your bed every night, her children in your nursery. That's not what I want."

He exhaled harshly. Then he opened his eyes and looked at her, and there she was. The corners of her lovely mouth turned down, her magnificent eyes glistening with tears. And she did look like she meant it. God help him, but she looked like she truly meant it.

"I'm so sorry. I made a terrible mistake. I've treated you abominably, and I'm so sorry," she whispered, then added, "I do love you."

And he believed her.

But he didn't understand. "How can you love me?" he ground out. "How can you forgive me? She died because of me. I killed her. If I hadn't—"

"Chadwick killed her," Georgie interrupted, managing to glare at him even though she was sniffling and still had tears on her cheeks. "The rest is just… unfortunate circumstances. And why should I not forgive you? Tell me, please, what on earth would I do with a husband who never made a mistake? How could I ever be worthy of such a paragon?"

Robert gave an exasperated laugh. "I suspect you'd try to match his virtues, and then you'd both be unhappy because he'd be devastated if you changed in any way that went against your nature. Because if you did, he would not adore you half so much, and if he did not adore you, you'd drive him mad."

"Why yes, of course!" She hiccoughed and laughed all at once. Then her smile died, and her lips quivered again. "Oh, Robert…"

He swallowed hard. He knew he ought to make a concession, knew he'd live with even more regret for the rest of his life if he felt like he had crushed her dreams simply because of his own apprehensions. But, although he knew it well, forcing out the words was still like trying to squeeze an entire hand through a buttonhole.

Pressing her hand gently, he said, "Georgie, I want you to know that… Well, you see, the past few years, all that happened on Barbados, it had all tied itself into a damnable tangle inside me. Confessing it to you and having you forgive me…"

He took a deep breath to ward off the sudden lump in his throat. "I believe it has undone the first knot. And it makes me hopeful that I will put it completely behind me eventually and that someday, I might be willing to consider your traveling to wherever your fancy takes you. I might even decide to accompany you."

Her face lit up so brightly that he felt the need to add, "But I make no promises, mind you."

"Oh, no," she said in a breathy, happy voice. "I don't need promises. I know what it cost you to even mention it, Robert, and I'm perfectly content with that, for now. Thank you."

"Yes, well…" He cleared his throat, hesitating. "I, um… I take it this means you've changed your mind about marrying me?"

Her mouth fell, and she let out a huff of indignation that was belied by her visibly fighting another smile. "Well, you won't know until you ask, will you? And you have to ask me, Robert. You never did ask me, and I know you're afraid I'll refuse again, and I won't have it."

She squeezed his hand while he wavered. He glanced down and saw her bonnet and gloves, dropped haphazardly onto the ground. Was he really afraid she'd refuse?

No. He wasn't. So he'd ask her this time, instead of commanding or insisting, and he'd do it gladly.

But he wouldn't get down on his knees.

Meeting her eyes again, he solemnly asked, "Lady Georgiana, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

She hesitated a split second before whispering, "Yes."

Resisting the urge to grab her and kiss her breathless, he said, "I'm sorry; I couldn't hear you."

Her eyes widened, and her palms met his chest in a playful shove. "Yes!" she said, laughing. "I said 'yes!'"

And then he finally scooped her into his arms, chuckling along with her screams and giggles as he swung her into the air. His body protested with sharp stabs of pain, reminding him of the blows he had taken at least partially for this woman, and no matter how foolish that damnable boxing match had been, he still squeezed her all the tighter as a result.

When he finally put her down, he backed her up against the nearest pillar. He began to dip his head toward her, but instead of waiting, she stood on her tiptoes and grabbed and pulled him down. It began as a sweet, almost chaste meeting of lips, but then she moaned deep in her throat and pressed her soft curves against him, and his self-control snapped. With frenzied enthusiasm, their kiss deepened, as if the long weeks since their first and only taste of each other had left them starved and satisfaction could not come soon enough.

Their tongues met and swirled, an intimate dance that sucked him into a euphoric whirlpool where he was struck by how he had thought he'd never touch her again, never hold her at all, let alone so close. How he'd never fill his senses with her scent, with the small gasps of pleasure that were like music to his ears, and the delicate curve of her muslin-covered back beneath his palm. And even though they had a lifetime together ahead of them, he knew he could never get enough of this feeling. Never get enough of her.

"Georgie!" The duchess's voice, and Georgie's jerked response to it, crashed through his carnal haze. Elizabeth Southwell's voice echoed again somewhere in the distance. "Georgie! Where are you?"

Robert and Georgie broke apart, but only an inch. "Ha!" she said under her breath. "She knows where I am. She told me when I set out that she and your mother would follow after a while, and I'd die from shock if they didn't see us before they took the trouble to walk up the hill."

Grabbing his affianced wife's hand and smiling at the knowledge that she finally
was
, Robert said, "We might as well get it over with and tell them what they want to hear."

"Wait," she said, stopping him with a hand on his arm as he started leading the way toward the steps and out of the temple. "They'll want a wedding date, and we must tell them it will be soon."

God, yes. If ever there was a woman after his own heart. He smiled and shot her a look he hoped showed that he could not wait to have her back into his bed, either. "I couldn't agree more."

Though the corner of her lip curved, she turned up her nose and sniffed. "You misunderstand, Robert. I meant that we must hurry… before I change my mind again."

He suffered a moment of blank confusion, and then he closed his eyes and groaned. "Georgie… You're going to drive me mad after all, aren't you?"

"Yes," she said, throwing her arms about his neck. "But you want me, anyway."

Robert gave her a quick, soft kiss, then murmured, "Always."

Olivia Kingsley is a self-employed web designer, which actually means she's a SAHM who manages to get a little bit of work done here and there. She's been an avid reader for as long as she's known how, and in her early twenties she wrote her first historical romance manuscript. A native of Norway, she lives in Las Vegas with her husband and their daughter.

You can visit her website at www.oliviakingsley.com.