She smiled up at him. “I would like that very much.”
“And ye get to marry a viscount.” He winked. “Albeit one who wears a kilt.”
Chuckling, she tugged on his arm, as her sister set up the tea tray.. “I find your terms acceptable, my Lunzie. Now kiss me.”
“Nay, lass,” he murmured as their lips brushed. “If I’m yer beggar, I’m beggingyeto kissme.”
So she did.
EPILOGUE
The wedding took longer to plan than Lysander would’ve liked, but as thethirdOliphant son to be married this summer, Lady Dumpkins was crowing that her house party was a clear success. He was happy enough to turn the wedding planning over to her, since he’d made it clear that the Baroness Oliphant—who wouldn’t shut up about her daughter becoming a viscountess—wasn’t to be involved at all.
Tiffany, apparently, was thrilled by that.
The weeks spent preparing to make her his wife were surprisingly nice, once she and Bonnie officially accepted Lady Dumpkins’s invitation to spend the time on her estate. Lysander could visit his betrothed any time he wished, without having to worry about his future-mother-in-law’s vain pride.
It had been bad enough seeing the baroness preening at the wedding—she’d worn white, and far too much lip rouge—as she bragged to everyone that she was now a guest at the house party, since her daughter was a viscountess. Lysander had evenoverheard her saying to asupremelyuninterested Duke of Cashard that Tiffany would have made a perfect duchess.
It was then that Lysander decided it was time to steal his wife away.
After he finished lifting Tiffany into the carriage, he turned, and was surprised to see his siblings standing there. Lyon, for once, was wearing a suit, although he looked damned uncomfortable in it. Of course, he always looked damned uncomfortable these days.
Phineas pulled Lysander in for a hug, pounded his shoulder, and chuckled. “Welcome to marriage, big brother. I’m glad Olive and I were able to stick around long enough to see it happen. Luckily, we’re leaving for Jerusalem tomorrow and willnae have to see ye muck through yer first few months together.”
Since Phin had married first, Lysander supposed his brother had the right to tease him, so he accepted it good-naturedly. Max was the next one to step up, and he was also grinning broadly as he offered his hand.
“I’m happy for you, Lysander,” he drawled in that brash American way of his. “It’s damned good to see you looking so at ease, and I’m glad I won’t have to listen to any more of your stories about your exploits.”
Since he winked when he said that, Lysander laughed, knowing this new brother of his was referring to his old life. “Indeed, I’m a man in love with his wife.”
“Welcome to the club, brother,” Max said, and pulled him in for a hug.
Lysander had no idea whatthe clubmeant, but he returned the embrace.
Then it was Athena’s turn. Her smile was proud, but he read sadness in her eyes when she stepped up and took Max’s place. “Good work, Lysander,” she said softly. “I am pleased ye didnae fook this up too badly. I always kenned yer harebrained scheme to punish Tiffany was a bad idea.”
“Shut up,” he hissed, dragging his little sister in for a hug. “She’s sitting in the coach right behind me.”
“I ken.” Athena raised her voice even more. “Ye were wrong about her, big brother, and Tiffany deserves to win the first five arguments of yer married life.”
From inside the couch, they all heard Tiffany’s snort of agreement, and Athena’s smile looked a little more natural as she straightened.
Impulsively, Lysander’s hold on her tightened. “Athena. Ye deserve to win arguments. Ye deserve happiness too. Ye havenae lost the chance—with the Dumpkins house party still going on, ye could?—”
Her laughter cut him off, and she patted his hand in consolation. “I dinnae need to be married to be happy, Lysander. I have Callan and my collection, and I have the sense to ken how to find my fun without marriage. What? Ye think I would meet a useless fop at a house party and find happiness?” Her laugh was too loud, too harsh to be genuine. “Cease yer fussing, all of ye.”
She sent her brothers grins, but none of them returned them. Max and Phin exchanged a worried look, but Lyon sighed and dropped his arm around their little sister’s shoulders. Sheseemed to melt against him, and he tugged her up against his side as he offered Lysander his hand.
When Lysander took it, the handshake was crushing, and his brother’s expression serious. “Good work, Lysander.”
It was all Lyon said, but his approval meant the world.
Since Lysander couldn’t seem to make his tongue work, he just pulled them both in for another quick hug—Lyon was stiff of course—before cheerfully saluting them, and the gathering crowd, and climbing into the carriage.
As soon as the door shut behind him, a pair of small hands grabbed his lapels and yanked him forward. He ended up sprawled across the seat, with Tiffany—his wife—atop him. Her lips were everywhere, and although he’d started off chuckling, soon he was groaning in surrender.
“Love, if we continue this, we’ll no’ make it to Blabloblal.” He was going to have to have her, right there in the carriage.
