AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I thought so.”
She leaned closer, her cheek brushing his shoulder. “Part of me wishes to quit trying and just beg Ben to speak with her. The entire thing would be done in less than five minutes.”
He looked back over his shoulder and realizing that no one had noticed their exit, he brushed his own cheek against her forehead. “This is about more than just our marriage. It’s about you being the person you want to be.”
But she jolted a bit against him. “You want to marry me?”
How did she not know that? He supposed he hadn’t actually asked her yet. “More than anything.”
“Me too,” she breathed, looking up at him with those large hazel eyes twinkling like the stars above.
“In that case, Millie Crosby, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
“Yes,” she cried, her voice going high with emotion. The sort that pulled at him deep in his gut.
He found himself leaning closer. He wanted to kiss her, the urge overwhelming him as he stared down at her beautiful upturned her face.
“Really? Our life will be difficult the first few years. I work hard and—”
“Parker,” she said, his name as glorious as he’d imagined tumbling from her lips. “I don’t wish to be a debutante, go to fancy balls, or gain the attention of a gaggle of men. I want to be with you. That’s it.”
And then he couldn’t hold himself back any longer.
Closing the distance between them, he captured her lips with his own.
Soft, sweet, and so supple, her mouth molded to his, their breath mingling as he reached up to cup her cheek in his palm.
The velvet of her skin slid under his much rougher fingertips as she lifted up to move even closer to him.
This was where he belonged.
They broke apart, remaining close together as they stared into one another’s eyes.
It was the most perfect moment.
And then it shattered.
“Millie?” Marchioness Farthington cried. “What are you doing out here?”
Millie turned toward her mother, shifting to remain pressed to his side as she looked back at her mother…
* * *
Millie had feltthat shift again.
The one where everything came into focus. Or perhaps just what was important.
Parker had asked for her hand in marriage, and she’d accepted.
“Millie,” her mother cried again. “Step away from Lord Parker before someone else sees.”
“No.”
The single word hung in the air as Parker’s grip around her waist tightened.
“What do you mean, no? Lord Rangeley is marrying your sister and you are going to be the toast of London.”
“No.”
