Page 55 of Christmas Comes to Little Valentine

Nat let out a sound of triumph and reached for her hands, clasping them tightly within his.

“I like you very much indeed,” she told him, the words breathless. “More than is quite comfortable, if you want the truth.”

“Oh, I know, love, believe me. I’ve been miserable and so out of sorts this past week, wanting to see you and not daring to but… I don’t want it to be a scheme. I don’t want to avoid getting leg shackled, not if the person I’d be tying myself to is you, Meg. Can’t we make it real, and see where it leads us?”

Her breath hitched, happiness alight in her eyes, but then the light dimmed, her expression fading.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Whatever it is you’ve just thought, we’ll not let it stand in our way.”

“Hawkney,” she said anxiously. “I’ve no dowry, no connections. You know he doesn’t like it, Nat. I’m sure he thinks me a fortune hunter.”

“Hawkney can take a running jump off the nearest cliff,” Nat said firmly. “I don’t care. I’m not Della, love. I don’t need his approval to be happy. Besides, Gee-Gee thinks you’ll be the making of me, so what does he know?”

“Truly, Nat?” she said, still looking as if she feared he’d run mad.

“Truly,” he agreed. “And if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to kiss you again.”

She laughed, and he assured himself it was not hysteria, even if it sounded a bit like it. She was just a little overwrought. He knew just how she felt.

“I think I would like that,” she replied hesitantly.

“If you’re in any doubt, then I didn’t do it properly,” he said, frowning. “So, I’d better clear up any confusion.”

He stood up, pulling her with him, and then drew her against him. To his delight, she slid her arms around his waist, and he held her tighter still, until their bodies were flush. Her breathing picked up, her breasts rising and falling sharply beneath the pretty blue gown.

“Perfection,” he murmured, gazing down at her. “I knew it. I think I knew it the very first moment you opened your eyes after I carried you back to my apartment. I was horribly tactless, blundering about like a fool, but you saw through that, and knew I was trying to help. You said I was kind,” he added with a smile.

“You are,” she said simply, “the kindest, best, most wonderful man in the entire world.”

“You’ve not seen much of the world, love,” he pointed out regretfully. “You might want to reserve judgement.”

She shook her head, reaching up to touch his cheek. “I know the world can be cruel, cold and hard and unfeeling. I don’t need to see every corner, to meet every person in it, to know that you are something special, Nathaniel Ashcroft. To me, you are the entire world, and even if you take me with you to see it all, I know that will never change.”

Nat swallowed, emotion snagging in his throat, pride and wonder stealing anything he might have said, about how she had changed his world forever, had changed him forever. Instead, he showed her, lowering his mouth to hers and kissing her as though there was no tomorrow, as though this moment was the only one he had to prove to her he understood, because as ever, she had understood him.

Meg clung to him, not only allowing him to take what he wanted but meeting him at every turn, becoming bolder as he dared to deepen the kiss. Passion simmered, threatening to make him reckless, to take more than she ought to give, and he was as much relieved as infuriated as he heard voices, and the door to the orangery opening.

He pulled back, meeting Meg’s dazed expression with his own, which he doubted looked any more peaceful, for he was all at sixes and sevens, the world upended around him. Somehow it had rearranged itself, the colours brighter and lovelier than he could have imagined upon waking that morning.

“And this is the orangery.”

Nat recognised Della’s voice at once, and the answering voice sounded familiar, but he could not place it. He glanced at Meg, reaching out to rearrange a lock of hair he had disordered during their kiss.

“Drat them,” she whispered, making him smile and wonder if he could be any happier.

“Oh, Nat! Miss Bancroft, I’m… terribly sorry,” Della said as she appeared through the trees, looking utterly mortified upon seeing them and correctly guessing she was interrupting.

“Not to worry, Della. Miss Honeywell,” he added, upon seeing Isabelle Honeywell with her, along with another girl he did not know. She was a drab little thing who looked like she feared he might eat her as she clutched a small dog to her chest.

“Oh, Nat, forgive me, let me introduce you. Nathaniel, Meg, please meet Miss Clara Halfpenny and this little rogue is Mr Bennett, Benny to his friends. Clara, this is my cousin, Mr Nathaniel Ashford, and his fiancée, Miss Margaret Bancroft.”

Clara dipped a haphazard curtsey, blushed scarlet, and stared at her toes.

“I am very pleased to meet you, Miss Halfpenny, and to see you again, Miss Honeywell,” Meg replied, with more aplomb than Nat might have credited her with a few minutes ago.

There was an awkward silence for a moment, which Nat felt obliged to fill.

“We’re getting married!” he exclaimed, which had them all looking at him like he’d run mad, for of course they all knew that, having been introduced to his fiancée some time ago. Yet it was new to him, and to Meg too, and when he glanced at her, he saw her grinning and looking as silly about it as he did.