“Are you teasing me?” she asked.
“I thought you might enjoy it.”
“If you tell me it’s something from your book, Iwillstab your mates.”
He laughed a little and pulled her into his arms. “I invented it all on my own, clever lad that I am.”
She permitted herself a small laugh, partly unwillingly given, because he was a braw, lovely man and she could freely admit that she loved him. She met his gaze.
“Thank you.”
“For being so clever?”
She nodded. “And for rescuing me.”
“It was most assuredly my pleasure.”
“And,” she ventured, “for loving me.”
He pressed his lips against her forehead. “That is most assuredly a privilege.”
She leaned up and kissed him just to, as Ewan would have advised her to do, point him in the right direction.
He smiled and returned the favor, then lifted his head and looked at her gravely. “I love you,” he said quietly.
“I love you back,” she said, then she smiled. “Emily told me that’s a chic way to say it. What say you?”
“Very chic,” he agreed. “And I’ll gladly accept those words however you want to say them and in whatever language suits you.” He paused. “Except Latin. Mine is nonexistent except for clan mottos.”
She considered him. “Are you nervous?”
He glared at her, but it was very weak and not at all convincing. She smiled, then decided more demonstration couldn’t go awrong. She put her hands on his cheeks and set to her goodlywork of kissing him until he might possibly be swayed to her purpose.
He laughed a little as she allowed him to breathe. “I refuse to admit what I am,” he managed. He considered her. “A little light reading from Constance Buchanan’s latest?”
She looked at him evenly.
He only shrugged, but he seemed to be fighting a smile.
“You know what sort of gel I am,” she reminded him.
“Stride forth and conquer?”
She nodded firmly.
“Yes,” he said, looking at her with affection, “I do. I do know what sort of gel you are.”
“You should know,” she said, “whilst we’re discussing the rest of our evening that Emily said I looked very fine in these black pieces of clothing.”
“Very fine?”
She looked at him solemnly. “I believe the word she used washot.”
He began to smile. “Did she?”
“Do you think I look hot?”
He bent his head and kissed her softly. “Scorching.”
