"I do." He brushed her lips with his. "I love you." He kissed her cheekbone. "I love you." The hollow of her throat. "I love you."
She closed her eyes. She wanted to believe him. She did. "How can we feel this way? We've been ... It's been ten years, Michael."
r /> His lips feathered over her right brow. "Sof. You need time. We need time. Tomorrow, I will call upon you, and then I'll pay my address to your brother. I'll ask his permission to court you. No decision needs to be made. We'll take it as it comes."
"I don't know if--"
Pulling away, he took her by the shoulders. Jaw tense, he said, "Tomorrow, Sofie."
Words deserted her at his intensity, at her own foolish hope. She wanted that, so badly.
"Believe me, Sof. Believe us."
There was so much against them, so much. "Stephen will thrash you. He'll keep you from me."
Michael set his jaw. "He'll try."
A sudden, blinding happiness took her, surely too bright to last, but she would grab it while it burned. She brought his hand to her cheek, kissed the long, sensitive fingers. "Tomorrow."
Three months later
THE BREEZE WRAPPED AROUND Sofie, warm in the darkness of the garden. Faint strains of music sounded from Diana's ball, and she could hear the laughter of others who had sought respite from the crush of the ballroom.
Exhaling, Sofie looked out over the garden. Though it was more than two months since her return to London, she had not returned to the Continent. How could she? Michael wasn't there.
Strong arms snaked around her waist, pulling her into a hard chest while soft lips brushed the spot beneath her ear. A deliciously deep voice said, "You always did like a garden."
Wickedness rushed through her as she turned in Michael's embrace. "They provide so much opportunity for mischief."
He raised a brow. "The Countess of Edgington has too much dignity to get into mischief."
Laughter bubbled in her, though she did her best to keep her expression solemn. "Well, it's a good thing I'm not yet the countess."
"Only for twelve more hours."
She lifted a shoulder. "It still counts."
As if he could no longer contain himself, a smile broke across his face, his eyes alight. "I won't win, will I?"
"No," she said, loving that he shared his humor with her. Loving him.
"Well," he said. "I shall have to cheat." And then he set his lips to hers.
His tongue danced along the seam of her lips, seeking entrance, and she opened to him, welcoming him into her as she dug her fingers into his back. He made a sound of pleasure, filling her, making her heated and empty. Soon. Soon.
"Miss Hargrove!"
Slowly, the shrill voice penetrated the haze he always created. Michael tensed against her, lifting his head to stare straight ahead as a tick started in his jaw.
Cautiously, Sofie peeped past his shoulder. Lady Darbyon stood before them, a horrified expression twisting her features.
Leaning her forehead against him, Sofie groaned. Dear God, not again.
"Miss Hargrove! I cannot believe this! And with the Earl of Edgington! Did you not learn your lesson the first time?"
Extracting herself from Michael's embrace, she squared her shoulders and entered the fray. "The earl is my fiance. Surely we are allowed some leeway?"
"You still have a reputation to uphold. Come." With that imperious command, Lady Darbyon held out her hand.