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‘I’m worried about you.’ He swallows. ‘I’m worried about how she will take us.’
My lashes flutter over the word ‘us’. Are we an ‘us’ now?
Well, you have been sleeping together for two weeks...
My stomach swoops...my pulse races.
But an ‘us’?
What did you expect? It’s not like you’ve been clear about where this is heading or where it isn’t. And haven’t you been content—deliriously happy, even?
I wet my lips, struggling to find the right words, but then he releases my hand and strides away, leaving a ghostly chill in his place.
‘We’re hosting this party together. At Glenrobin, Summer.’ He forks his fingers through his hair without looking at me. ‘Rubbing my mother’s face in the inheritance this early on feels like a risky move.’
And just like that the chill and the tension dissipates. He’s not talking about our relationship. He’s talking about our joint ownership of the estate.
‘“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,”’ he murmurs, and I stride up to him, confident that on this we’re OK.
‘I can handle your mother, Edward.’
He turns and reaches out to cup my cheek, his eyes tormented as they search mine. ‘If she hurts you, Summer... If she says anything, I swear to God...’
My ribs ache, my heart swells. Would he have said something back then if he’d witnessed what she’d done, what she’d said...?
I mimic his touch, palm to cheek. ‘And if she hurts you, Edward, or says anything, I swear to God...’
And then I kiss him. I kiss him with my gratitude, kiss him with my assurance that I can look after myself, kiss him until the world beyond this room no longer exists.
‘You know,’ he says against my lips, ‘a wise person once said to me that the best form of stress relief can be found between the sheets.’
I squeal as he scoops me up and makes for the bed, rousing a sleeping Rufus, who shifts just in time for our arrival. ‘And let me guess...that wise person was Juan?’
‘How did you know?’
I laugh as he covers me with his body, turn my head from his approaching kiss... ‘Isn’t it rude to keep our guests waiting?’
‘I shall explain we were otherwise engaged...’ he teases my earlobe between his teeth ‘...with last-minute planning and preparations, of course.’
‘I’m loving your thinking...’ I tug his sweater over his head, my eyes roving hungrily over him.
‘And I’m loving yours.’
Edward
I check my watch for the umpteenth time. She’s not late. I’m early. Early and eager and...
I adjust my cravat.
‘Will you stop that?’ Marie bats my hands away. ‘Every time you wiggle it, you ruin the symmetry.’
‘The symmetry?’ I raise my brows at her. ‘I’m wearing frills and you’re worrying about the symmetry?’
‘Nonsense!’ She pats her curly white wig that is sprinkled with glitter and waves her fairy godmother wand at me. ‘You look very prince-like, and that colour becomes you.’
I look down at the navy satin brocade jacket with its gold trim and grimace. Bad enough that the trousers feel more like tights—breeches, I’ve been assured—but the floral pattern woven through the jacket and waistcoat...not to mention the satin shirt...
‘You know, you’re so sexy when you get like this.’
