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“It would make me the happiest of men if you would agree to be my wife, Gina. Miss Geraldine Bains, I love you. Will you marry me?”
“This is your third proposal.”
“It takes me a little practice to get things right.” He smiled wryly.
She fisted her hand in his lapel, dragged him back to standing, then pulled his mouth to hers. Their lips met and it was warmth and home and every good thing. Groaning, he wrapped his arms around her. He deepened the kiss like he couldn’t get enough of her and it was long minutes before Gina heard a cough from the hallway that made her remember herself, her eyes snapping open and looking at the door.
“The ambiguous silence must be killing them,” Emmett said in an undertone.
A giggle escaped her as she looked right into Emmett’s summer-blue eyes and said, a little too loudly, “Yes.”
He pressed another kiss to her mouth and she could feel his smile. “You know, this might be the third proposal I’ve made,” he whispered. “But this is the first time you have unambiguously said, yes.”
“It takes me a little practice, too. I’m not very…”
“Observant?” he replied with a satirical tug of his lips. “You didn’t notice my heart at your feet all these months.”
“Apparently not. It took me a long time to see what I had.” She paused, reluctant to open the wound again, but not wanting it to fester. “I’m sorry about the embroidery, but I made you something else,” she said in a rush. She returned to where she’d been sitting and fetched the embroidery hoop from where it had fallen. It was much smaller than the piece stretched out with red roses, but she brought it to him.
He stared, brow furrowed, his impossible blue eyes flitting as he took it all in. “It’s a mourning piece. You started an embroidery to mourn me?”
“Yes,” she muttered. It was embarrassingly bad. His name was wonky. The roses were more misshapen than elegant. The laundry press looked like a strange multiple-layered sandwich with a wooden sword sticking out the top.
A delighted grin spread across Emmett’s face as he took in every detail. “Youreallyare withoutanytalent for embroidery. No accomplishment whatsoever.”
Her face heated. “I know!”
“What does this say?”
“Ratbag,” she admitted. “And addlepate. Blunderbuss. Jolterhead.” She pointed at the final word. “Here I got halfway through Lobcock.”
And he couldn’t have looked more pleased. “You made it for me?”
She nodded. “It’s so bad.”
“It is,” he agreed gleefully. “What are these blobs?” He pointed at a rose.
“Emmett!” She tried to shove him but he caught her in his arms and laughed.
“Gina soon-to-be-Stanton and eventually to be my countess. I love you. This means the world to me; I will treasure it. Thank you.” He cupped her cheek in his palm. “You mean the world to me.”
“I’m sorry about the insults. I was very cross with you.”
“I deserved them.” He leaned down and captured her mouth with his in a kiss so deep and sweet it made her dizzy. His hands cradled her head and stroked her hair. She gave into it, as she had always wanted to.
“I thought you weren’t supposed to kiss me!” she protested, mock outraged, when they finally broke off the kiss.
“Forgive me. That was a promise for when I’m your husband. Because we’ll need a new bargain when we’re married. And I want us to be married as soon as possible, Gina. No more waiting.”
“Six months was more than enough. I don’t know how either of us held out for so long.”
“Six months was a purgatory,” he groaned. “I tried everything I could think of to lure you into kissing me.”
“It was a constant battle not to. And to keep disliking you.” She marked this with kisses along his jaw, the rough scratch of his stubble making her lips buzz with the memory of where else she’d felt it.
“I will continue to make it impossible for you not to kiss me and impossible to dislike me.”
“That will be very easy, given how much I love you and want to kiss you. Andother things.”
