“I have always felt my eldest has a strong heroic streak about him,” Agnes said.
“I’d say he’s a rake on the way to redeeming himself,” Aunt Hermione said.
The Vicomte finally parted from his son to cross the room and extended his hand to Garrick.
“I admit I had my doubts about you,” the Vicomte said. “A worse roué than I was in my day. But if you intend to love and cherish my daughter, I give you my blessing on your union.”
Garrick bowed. “Thank you, sir. I will do my best to be worthy of her.”
“No one is worthy of my Madelina.” Her father leaned forward to brush a kiss across Madelina’s cheek. “But if she has chosen to bestow upon you the great treasure of her heart, I believe you have sense enough to honor that prize. Tofty!” He turned to address the knot of servants all tearfully welcoming Constantin home. “What does our King for the evening say about admitting a new character to the revelries?”
The merriment renewed with fresh abandon, and after a time, when she thought they were not likely to be missed,Madelina tugged at Garrick’s hand. “I have a gift for you, but it is in my bedchamber.”
His eyes darkened, and a wicked curve slanted his lips. “I imagine I will enjoy any gift presented in your bedchamber.”
“You are a scoundrel, aren’t you? I don’t imagine that will change.”
Her room was plain but her own, the carved panels of the walls an aged verdigris green and the bed hangings and upholstery the yellow of churned butter. Madelina bit her lip as he opened the velvet pouch with the slender silver watch chain. There were ribbons attached to hold the watch key, his citrine seal, and a third pendant to hold another small item.
“If we are entering a new time together, I thought you must have your watch about, to mark it,” she said shyly.
“I want a miniature of you to carry,” he said. “Because every moment you are not about, I want you with me.”
“Look how sentimental we are becoming,” she murmured against his lips. This kiss was different, incendiary, fierce. Their passion was a vine that had been fed and thus grew stronger, twining about them both.
“I stopped by the house for your gift, hoping I would have the chance to give it you.” He withdrew a pouch from a pocket inside his coat. “The color reminded me of your eyes.”
Madelina stared at the jewels that had been on display in the bow window. The single drop earrings showcased paired sapphires in a stunning briolette cut, the setting repoussé silver with tiny diamonds, aquamarine, and blue topaz arranged like a sunburst.
“Garrick. I’ve never beheld anything so beautiful.”
“You’ll have whatever you want as my wife, Mad. I promise you that.”
“Whatever I want?” She started unbuttoning his coat. He didn’t stop her, rather helped her shrug the sleeves from hisarms, then drape his waistcoat over an upholstered bench. A dark flame burned in his eyes.
“You lost our bet, I’ll have you know.” She tugged his shirt free from his breeches and pulled it over his head.
“I didn’t lose.”
Her breath halted in her throat as she stared at him. He was a magnificent creature. He was molded like the figures on the Greek vases in the British Museum with his broad chest, firm arms, the lines and curve of muscle defining his torso.
“You love me,” he reminded her, his smile smug at seeing how the sight of his bare form struck her breathless.
The line of his male member straining in arousal against his breeches made her mouth go dry. She pushed him into a seated position on the bed and knelt to tug off his boots.
“You did not make me fall in love with you by Twelfth Night,” she said crisply. “I loved you well before this. Long, long before—so long we won’t speak of it.” She rose. “My point is, you lost.”
“I did not.”
He rose and tugged her against his body, his mouth claiming hers, his hands at her breasts, warm and heavy, leaving trails of fire. His kiss left her staggering, breathless.
“I win, so you have to marry me, Mad.” He brought her hands to his brown linen breeches, encouraging her to unbutton the fall.
He wanted her. This marvelous man wanted her. Madelina drew a breath, trying to still her whirling head. Her body was a reed humming one high, wild note, the call of her desire to possess him completely. And to be possessed.
“I win,” she said, “so you must pay my forfeit.” The breeches fell open, and he tugged them off, then stood before her in only his stockings. Madelina stared at the full glory of him,all long strong lines and supple masculinity. His member was as firm and proud as the rest of him, upthrust into the air.
She swallowed hard. She wanted this. All of this. She just hoped his spear didn’t maim her.
