Page 67 of To Wager with Love

They’d slipped away from their guests at Harriet’s insistence, not that Jasper had taken much persuading. She led him across the gardens, her slippers growing damp in the grass as the warmth of the day departed with the sinking sun. It glowed now, streaking the sky with gaudy blazes of pink and orange, setting the lake aflame as it reflected the startling colours back at them.

Harriet admired the scene. “How beautiful,” she said, smiling as Jasper slipped his arm about her waist.

“Is this your surprise?”

She laughed and shook her head. “Sadly, my talents don’t run to organising such a show for you, though I would if I could. You deserve such magnificence.”

Jasper snorted and pulled her closer. “Stop,” he said, cupping her face in his hands. “I shall become impossible if you keep saying such things. I shall long for one of your set downs if you keep on.”

Harriet’s smile fell, and she buried her face in his waistcoat, clutching her arms about him.

“Don’t,” she said, her voice muffled. “I can’t bear to remember all the stupid, hateful things I said.”

“Ah, love,” Jasper said, kissing the top of her head. “I goaded you to it more often than not, and we both know it. We’ve both been foolish. I ought to have trusted you enough to know you’d never judge me in the way I feared. You always knew I wasn’t as clever as you, and you always took time to explain things without making me feel a fool. I underestimated you because of my own pride and that’s my fault, not yours.”

“But you are clever, Jasper,” she said, clutching at his lapels and wanting to shake him for thinking otherwise. “That’s the point. I always knew you were, and that’s why I was so angry with you. I thought you were just wasting your talent through laziness and now… now when I know how hard you must have worked….”

Her voice quavered and Jasper bent and kissed her, stealing whatever words she may have found with a kiss that softened her bones and stole her ability to think, let alone speak.

He let her go at last and smiled down at her in satisfaction. “Your glasses are crooked,” he said, the smug devil.

“I’m surprised they haven’t melted,” Harriet replied, straightening them with a dignified little sniff. “There ought to be a law against you, Jasper Cadogan. You’re a dangerous man. I can’t think when you kiss me like that.”

“Well fair’s fair. A fellow has to have some advantages, love,” he said, taking her hand again. “Now, weren’t you taking me somewhere to have your wicked way with me?”

“Is that what I was doing?” Harriet replied, trying to sound tart, which was difficult when her mouth refused to do anything but grin stupidly at him.

“I believe so.”

Harriet gave up and laughed, tugging at his hand. “Come along, then.”

She pulled him on farther until he realised where they were going. “The summerhouse?”

“Of course, the summerhouse,” she said, blushing a little all the same. “Our first kiss was here and so I thought….” Harriet felt her blush increase but he looked so pleased she carried on regardless. “I thought it would be the perfect place for our first night.”

“It’s hardly that.” Jasper smirked, no doubt remembering just as she was that they’d hardly been parted during the endless wait for their wedding day.

Harriet huffed at him, knowing he was teasing. “Our first night as a married couple,” she clarified.

“Well, that sounds very romantic, love,” he admitted, though he sounded a little dubious. “But I think my bedroom might be more comfortable.”

“Ah, that’s what you think,” Harriet said, pleased with herself as she led him to the door.

Jasper gave her a curious look before setting his hand on the knob and pushing the door open. She heard his gasp of surprise and clutched her arms about herself, bursting with delight as he saw everything she’d done. It looked rather magnificent. Swathes of red silk hung from the centre of the ceiling and down the walls, and the floor was thick with rugs and huge cushions in dozens of jewel bright colours. There were gilt platters, heaped with grapes, strawberries, exotic fruits, and tiny pastries, every item a perfect little mouthful. A fire blazed in the hearth and lamps glowed, making the space intimate, warm, and desperately romantic.

“A Thousand and One Arabian Nights,” Jasper said, his voice little more than a whisper.

“It was always your favourite,” Harriet said, closing the door behind her and taking his hand.

Jasper turned to look at her, his eyes sparkling. “You must have read it to me a dozen times, and you never complained when I asked for it again.”

Harriet shrugged. “I loved reading it to you, it was the only time I had your undivided attention, even if it was the book that captured you, and not me.”

“It’s been you for a very long time, Harry,” he said softly. “And it will only ever be you.”

Harriet’s heart did a mad little dance in her chest, happiness bubbling up inside her and she flung her arms about his neck, pulling his head down for a kiss.

“I love you,” she said breathlessly when she finally let him go. “And I have a present for you.”