Well, perhaps she had a little of his pride. She’d certainly found plenty when he was making her sound like some lofty lady who couldn’t live without “fanciful creatures of sugar paste” to decorate her birthday cake.
Sabrina JeffriesShe knew what she had to do.”
“Did she? How odd for a pampered lady. Though I’m sure she complained constantly about the lack of heat and food and furnishings.”
Hell and blazes, he could see where this was going. “She did not. But it was only one night, and we were hiding from killers.”
“Trust me, Jackson, killers or no, if you’d hauled me about the woods and put me through such deprivation, I would have been complaining. Loudly. Repeatedly. “
He pushed back from the table to eye her with abject skepticism. “No, you wouldn’t. You’d make the best of things.”
“And she didn’t?”
With a hard glare, he crossed his arms over his chest. “One night in a cottage is hardly a good test of how well she’d endure a lifetime in Cheapside?”
“So last night was a test, was it? And even so, she passed it. In response, you talked about duty and honor and such. Made her feel as if marrying her would be your concession to propriety. Have I judged the situation aright?”
It was getting harder to pretend that he’d behaved like anything but an arse this morning. “She has a bloody duke chomping at the bit to marry her, and you think she could be happy with me? Here?”
Aunt Ada planted her hands on her hips. “You know, I’m beginning to be insulted. I thought I’d made this quite a comfortable home, and now I find that you think it comparable to some hovel in the woods.”
“That’s not what I-“
“If you showed the same lack of feeling with her as you are with me right now, it’s a wonder she didn’t slap the tar out of you.” She shook her head. “You decided her future without even considering her feelings. Don’t you find that presumptuous?
Before you leave,” his aunt said, “answer one question for me. If Lady Celia weren’t the daughter of marquess-if she were some young woman you’d met at an assembly, the daughter of a baker or a tailor-would you hesitate to marry her?”
“No,” he said, not even having to consider his answer. “If I could have her, I’d want for nothing else.”
She seized his hand and squeezed it. “Then do whatever you must to secure her. Because if you don’t make the attempt, you’ll regret it the rest of your life.
Aren’t you still worried Gran will cut me off, and you’ll be saddled with a spoiled wife and not enough money to please her?”
“To hell with your grandmother, too. For that matter, to hell with the money.” He tossed the chair aside as if it were so much kindling; it clattered across the floor. “It’s you I want.”
“Jackson!” she cried as he approached her. “Someone might hear you!”
“Good.” Catching her about the waist, he backed her toward the bed. “Then you’ll be well and truly compromised, and there will be no more question of our marrying.”
While she was still thrilling to the masterful way he’d decided to take charge, he tumbled her onto the bed, following her down to cover her body with his.
As she gaped at him, shocked to see her cautious love behave so delightfully incautious, he murmured, “Or better yet, they can find us here together in the morning and march us right to the church.”
Then he took her mouth with his.
He’d lost the battle to protect his heart.
“I love you,” he murmured as he lost himself inside her. “I love you, my dearest Celia.” When hope shone in her face, he said, “I’ll always love you.”
Then he collapsed on top of her.
They lay there, joined together, for several moments. When he rolled off, she curled herself against him and stared into his face uncertainly. “Did you mean it?”
“Of course.” He brushed a kiss over her lips. “I love you, sweeting.”
Joy leapt in her face, but as he continued to stare at her, it shifted to something that looked remarkably like calculation. “I suppose you expect me to say something similar.”
Though his breath caught in his throat, he arched an eyebrow. “Still torturing me for this morning?”
Pure mischief lit her pretty eyes. “Perhaps.”
“Then I’ll have to make you more sure of me,” he drawled and reached for the bell cord.
“Don’t you dare!” she cried, half frowning, half laughing, as he closed his hand around it.
“Do you love me?” he asked and dangled the cord over her head.
“I might,” she teased. “A little. Do you still think me a spoiled lady?”
She grabbed for the cord, and he lifted it higher. “Probably no more spoiled than any other beautiful female used to getting her own way with men who adore her.”
“At least you’re mixing compliments with the insults now.” She regarded him from beneath lowered lashed. “So you adore me, do you?”
“Madly. Passionately.” He released the cord. “And no, I don’t think you’re spoiled. If I’d ever had any doubt, my aunt banished it completely.”
“Your aunt?”
“I told her everything…well, not everything, but the important parts. And after she pointed out that I’m probably the worst suitor ever when it comes to proposing, she defended your behavior this morning with great enthusiasm.”
A devilish smile crossed her lips. “I think I’m going to like your aunt.”
“I’m sure you will. The two of you are peas in a pod.
I can already see that you and she will be thick as thieves.”
“I do hope so.”
The dreamy look on her face made his heart catch in his throat. Oh God, what he wouldn’t give to keep the look there forever. But what if he couldn’t? What if-
“Oh no, you don’t,” Celia said. “I can already see Proud Pinter creeping in.”
He laughed. She knew him so well.
“Hand me your cravat,” she said, snapping her fingers.
“What?”
“I shall hold on to it, and if you try to deny me again, I’ll leave it in my bedclothes and make sure Minerva finds it.”
He chuckled. “No need for that.” Coming over to the bed, he bent to kiss her pouting mouth. “I swear I’ll be here as early as I can tomorrow, ready to do battle for you, my love.”
“You’d better,” she muttered. As he headed for the door, he heard her add,” I could still ring the bell, you know.”
He grinned at her. “Go ahead, my lady. I’ll stand right here while you throw the house into an uproar.”
That seemed to reassure her, for she made a face, then said, “Oh, go on with you.
Speak of my future wife in anything but the most reverent of tones again, and it will be pistols at dawn.
Sabrina JeffriesAs you wish. But I felt several personal items here while I was a guest at the house party, so if you don’t mind, I’ll fetch those before I leave.” That would give him an excuse to find her room and make her listen.
“Very well.” As Jackson headed for the door, Stoneville called out, “Your room is in the west wing, isn’t it?”
Jackson halted to eye him warily. “Yes. Why?”
“You may not know that there’s a shortcut through the south wing.” The marguess stared steadily at him. The family resided in the south wing. “Indeed, I would love your opinion on a piece of art. I’m thinking of selling it, and you might know of a buyer. It’s a fine military painting by Goya hanging right next to Celia’s door, if you’d care to take a look on your way past.”
He couldn’t believe it-Stoneville was telling him how to find Celia’s room.
“Just remember,” Stoneville added, “if you should happen to run into anyone, explain that I wanted your opinion about some art.”
“I appreciate your faith in my judgment, my lord,” he said. “I will certainly take a look at that painting.”
Stoneville’s gaze hardened as he stood. “I trust that you’ll behave like a gentleman while you’re passing that way.”
He bit back a hot retort-his lordship was one to talk. But the fact that the man was helping him with Celia was a small miracle, and he wasn’t about to ignore that. “Yes. A perfect gentleman.”
“Good. I’ll hold you to that.
Because you deserve a duke, damn it!” A troubled expression furrowed his brow. “You deserve a man who can give you the moon. I can’t. I can give you a decent home in a decent part of town with decent people, but you…” His voice grew choked. “You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever known. It destroys me to think of what you’ll have to give up to be with me.”
“I told you before-I don’t care!” she said hotly. “Why can’t you believe me?”
He hesitated a long moment. “The truth?”
“Always.”
“Because I can’t imagine why you’d want me when you have men of rank and riches at your fingertips.”
She gave a rueful laugh. “You grossly exaggerate my charms, but I can’t complain. It’s one of many things I adore about you-that you see a better version of me than I ever could.” Remembering the wonderful words he’d said last night when she’d been so self-conscious, she left the bed to walk up to him. “Do you know what I see when I look at you?”
His wary gaze locked with hers. “Proper Pinter. Proud Pinter.”
“Yes, but that’s just who you show to the world to protect yourself.” She reached up to stroke his cheek, reveling in the ragged breath that escaped him. “When you let down your guard, however, I see Jackson-who ferrets out the truth, no matter how hard. Who risks his own life to protect the weak. Who’d sacrifice anything to prevent me from having to sacrifice everything.”
Catching her hand, he halted its path. “You see a saint,” he said hoarsely. “I’m not a saint; I’m a man with needs and desires and a great many rough edges.”
“I like your rough edges,” she said with a soft smile. “If I’d really wanted a man of rank and riches, I probably would have married long ago. I always told myself I couldn’t marry because no one wanted me, but the truth was, I didn’t want any of them.” She fingered a lock of hair. “Apparently I was waiting for you, rough edges and all.”
His eyes turned hot with wanting. Drawing her hand to his lips, he kissed the palm so tenderly that her heart leapt into her throat. When he lifted his head, he said, “Then marry me, rough edges and all.”
She swallowed. “That’s what you say now, when we’re alone and you’re caught up in-“
He covered her mouth with his, kissing her so fervently that she turned into a puddle of mush. Blast him-he always did that, too, when they were alone; it was when they were with others that he reconsidered their being together forever. And he still had said nothing of live.
“That’s enough of that,” she warned, drawing back from him. “Until you make a proper proposal, before my family, you’re not sharing my bed.”
“Sweeting-“
“Don’t you ‘sweeting’ me, Jackson Pinter.” She edged away from him. “I want Proper Pinter back now.”
A mocking smile crossed his lips. “Sorry, love. I threw him out when I saw how he was mucking up my private life.”
Love?
No, she wouldn’t let that soften her. Not until she was sure he wouldn’t turn cold later. “You told Oliver you’d behave like a gentleman.”
“To hell with your brother.” He stalked her with clear intent.
Even as she darted behind a chair to avoid him, excitement tore through her. “Aren’t you still worried Gran will cut me off, and you’ll be saddled with a spoiled wife and not enough money to please her?”
“To hell with your grandmother, too. For that matter, to hell with the money.” He tossed the chair aside as if it were so much kindling; it clattered across the floor. “It’s you I want.
That’s a much better kiss than the one you gave her when you won the shooting match!”
“And a much better proposal of marriage than the one you gave her yesterday morning!” Minerva chimed in.
“Leave him be!” Celia chided as Jackson went red about the ears. “He saved my life twice, figured out who killed Mama and Papa, and taught Gran some humility. We can’t all be good at everything, you know.”
Amid the laughter, he kissed her again, but her family didn’t let that go on for long. It was cold outside, after all. Gran herded them inside to the great hall, where the servants had brought out refreshments. There, everyone had to take turns congratulating them and clamoring for all the usual details of how it had started and when it had become true love.
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