Oh. It would be very improper. But the thought gave her a smile. She was thirty-nine years old.
“What a lovely idea,” she said.
He led her down the steps and around to the front of the house. As they passed in front of the fountain he released her arm and took her hand instead, lacing their fingers.
She laughed. “I feel like a girl again.”
“Please do not.” In the moonlight she could see that his eyes were smiling. “I am not interested in girls, Eleanor.”
“Only in women?” she asked.
“Not even in women,” he said. “In one woman. In you.”
If this was a dream, she hoped she would not wake up soon. Or ever.
They stood for a while on the bank of the lake, looking out over the water. A band of moonlight beamed across it, showing the surface to be like glass. There was not a breath of wind. He let go of her hand and circled her waist with his arm. She set her own about his and rested the side of her head on his shoulder. Ah, she had not believed this could or would happen to her ever again. He turned his head and kissed her warmly on the lips.
“Eleanor,” he asked, his mouth still almost brushing hers, “are you a virgin?”
Oh.
“No,” she said, lifting her head. “He was going away to war, you must understand. We were both aware that he might never return. We were young and very much in love. And rash.”
“You need not justify yourself,” he said. “Will you come with me to that clearing among the trees where we kissed a few days ago?”
She drew a slow and audible breath.
“But only if you wish,” he added.
“Oh,” she said with a sigh, “I do indeed wish, Michael.”
They walked there, their arms still about each other, and he shrugged out of his evening coat and spread it on the grass. She could not even remember those other times with Gregory—it had happened twice. But she did not want to remember. That was then and with the love of her youth. This was now with the love of her heart.
He loved her slowly and thoroughly after they had lain down together, his mouth and his hands caressing her through her clothing and beneath it while she touched him and felt all the warm, firm splendor of his man’s body and all the wonder of knowing that they would spend the rest of their lives together. He did not unclothe her, only lifted her gown and removed essential items before unbuttoning the flap of his evening breeches and freeing himself. He came over onto her, cushioning her with his hands against the hardness of the ground, and when he entered her, he did so firmly but slowly, giving her time to adjust to the shock of the intimacy.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmured against her mouth. And while she smiled at the extravagance of the word, she believed it too. She was neither pretty nor young, but at the moment she knew herself to be beautiful, for she was both lovable and loved and there was no better feeling in the world. Especially when she returned that love unconditionally and for all time. It did not matter that they had known each other for only a couple of weeks. It just did not matter.
He was a wonderful, skilled, patient lover. He took his time and gave her time while pleasure built to something that was almost painful and then burst into something beyond pain or pleasure while she felt him still and deep and hot in her and she shuddered into a relaxation more complete than any she had ever known.
“Ah, my love.” His voice was deep against her ear.
“Mmm.” She smiled.
They lay side by side, gazing up at moon and stars, dozing a little. An owl was hooting some distance away. There was the faint sound of music from the direction of the house. There was the soft lapping of water against the bank. Her fingers were laced with his again. The fingers of her other hand briefly touched the betrothal ring beneath the bodice of her gown, and she smiled a sad and final farewell to an old and precious love. Tonight she would remove the chain from about her neck. Tonight there was a new love, a new dream.
“It is going to have to be soon,” he said, turning his face toward hers.
“Is it?” She had not even disentangled herself from her school yet. Reality was beginning to intrude.
“Georgette and Robert are going to be very impatient when they know we are betrothed,” he said. “Not to mention ecstatic. And I might just have impregnated you, Eleanor. No, do not protest, as I suspect you are about to do, that you are too old. I would wager you are not. Most important of all, I do not want to wait and neither, I hope, do you. We may have the banns read here, if you insist, and wait a month. Or I will fetch a special license and we will marry within a week and you will come home with us. We will deal with your school together, or you may deal with it alone. But as a married lady, Eleanor. Tell me you choose the special license.”
“Within a week?” She gazed into his face though it was in shadow.
“I know it seems an eternity,” he said.
She laughed. “Are you always so impulsive?” she asked.
“No.” She saw the flash of his teeth before he closed the distance between them and kissed her again. “Say yes.”
