With as much solemnity as he could muster, and with both of them still laughing at the utter, wonderful absurdity of it all, he did as she commanded and took her hand. ‘Hope...’ He frowned, racking his brains for any recollection, then shook his head. ‘Do you have a second name?’
‘It’s Prudence.’
‘Of course it is.’ He couldn’t help but roar at that. With her overly cautious nature it somehow seemed more fitting. ‘Very well... HopePrudenceBrookes, would you do me the great honour of consenting to be my wife?’
For a split second she strapped on her haughty bravado, examining her nails while doing her best to stifle the sparkling sunshine in her eyes. ‘I might.’
‘Might?’He was all done kneeling and tugged her into his arms to nuzzle the sensitive spot at the base of her ear which always made her sigh. ‘What you mean is yes, Luke. Of course I’ll marry you. You are the man of my dreams. My heart beats for you and my body yearns for you. Ravish me again this instant.’
She arched to give him access and looped her arms around his neck. ‘You’re incorrigible.’
But she was most definitely sighing as his lips found the right place. ‘That I am, but I suspect you’ll still marry me anyway.’
Chapter Twenty
There was something about the way Luke kissed her which always completely scrabbled her wits, and this one was no exception. He started with her neck, his big hands exploring the curve of her waist and hips, only moving to her mouth when she had shamelessly splayed herself against him to prevent him prolonging the agony further.
Except this time, as his lips whispered over hers, something felt very different.
She felt very different.
It might have been his proposal. It might have been the heady knowledge that he adored her enough to plant not one, but two separate beds of yellow roses for her. It might also have been the romance of the waltz and the sublime intimacy of the beautiful starlit night around them now, or her imminent trip to Bath which made everything feel so poignant. But whatever it was, she was prepared to take Maria’s advice and stride boldly towards it for a change, rather than shy away from it, paralysed by fear. She had done too much of that with him and he deserved better. He had always been her friend first and foremost. Her ally and her confident. Soon, he would be her husband too and they would have exactly the sort of marriage she had always dreamed of. One of two equals and mutual respect.
Except with Luke there would also be passion. An aspect of a partnership which she had underestimated, not understanding that a man’s desire could be a beautiful and liberating thing instead of a violation. She was excited by the rigid press of his hardness against her belly. Curious about it and the next stage of their relationship. The intimacy of living with a man. Being with a man. Waking up next to him each morning. Going to bed with him at night. Seeing his naked body again—but being able to touch it and explore it. Succumb to it. Both friends and lovers—husband and wife.
When the tone of the kiss inevitably turned carnal as the mutual lust between them quickly burned too hot and once again became unbearable, it was Luke, as usual, who pulled away, trying to rescue them both before the sublime pull of it banished all good sense.
He held her at arm’s length, his breathing gloriously erratic and his intense gaze darkened by desire, and she realised that, as usual too, he was giving her all the power. For Luke, his own needs and wants always came secondary to hers, and likely always would. She knew that now without a shadow of a doubt. There was no ulterior motive. No hidden agenda. To him she was more than a conquest. He adored her.
All of her. Body and soul.
Wanted to marry her and would probably spend the rest of his life doing everything in his power simply to try and please her, and doubtless making the odd hash of it because he adored her most of all.
With him by her side, it was hard to feel pessimistic. Luke was all optimism and solutions rather than disappointments and defeat. The light to her shade and the love of her life.
She stared deep into his eyes, saw the emotion as well as the desire swirling in them, and knew the depth of his feelings mirrored hers. As she cupped his cheek, she smiled. His mother was right—what was she waiting for?
In less than thirty-six hours she was going away and wouldn’t see him for an eternity. Only a fool would waste a moment of that.
Instead of allowing him to be the noble gentleman and the eternal rescuer, the natural sensual and feminine part of her which she always tried to suppress came to the fore. She traced her fingers lovingly down his cheek, then boldly traced the pad of one around his lips, biting her own because they ached for him so much. His eyes dropped to them and heated, and simply because she suddenly felt all powerful and wantonly, sinfully wicked, she gave in to the urge to undo his cravat slowly unwinding it from his neck.
‘Are you trying to kill me, woman?’ His breath hitched as her lips nuzzled his jaw and the muscles in his chest bunched beneath his clothing as she ran her palms over them. ‘There is only so much restraint I can muster.’
She answered his question with a kiss so decadent and thorough, they were both panting by the end of it.
By then she had undone each and every button on his waistcoat, and her greedy hands had not only untucked the tails of his shirt from his trousers but had burrowed beneath it to feel the heat of his skin. Skin she hadn’t been able to forget since the day she had seen it all exposed and soaking wet on this very balcony. However, this time his nipples were puckered with desire and not the cold, and his heartbeat beneath her palms was like a rapid hammer against his ribs. His expression wasn’t the least bit cocky and smug. It was wary. Questioning. Hopeful.
She unsettled him.
Overwhelmed him—and that knowledge was intoxicating.
The infamous red gown now felt too tight. Too much of a barrier between her needy body and his. Hope craved his touch, ached for it. Yet so far, his hands had remained too respectful and would remain so unless she invited him to be otherwise.
‘I wore this dress for you, Luke.’ She didn’t recognise her voice. It was sultry. Seductive. She kissed him again. Used her teeth to nibble on his bottom lip, wanted to explore how far she could push him before he cracked. ‘Do you like it?’
‘Yes.’
His voice was gruff. Slightly strangled because he was holding himself back. So she did the only thing she could think of to set him free while enslaving him further. She tugged him by the hand into the dimly lit privacy of his bedchamber and then turned her back to him.
