“Wasn’t what? Natural?” He laughed. “It most certainly was.”
“No, mutual,” she muttered.
He frowned, not understanding. He must be the most thick-witted clodpoll in creation. “You didn’t want me?”
She avoided his stare, and to his horror, a tear trickled down her cheek. “Of course I did. You know I did.”
“I thought so.”
“But you didn’t want me.”
“What utter damned drivel.” He fought the urge to prove once and for all how asinine that pronouncement was. “I was desperate for you.”
“Then why did you stop?”
“Oh, Bess,” he said helplessly, and this time he didn’t hesitate. He wrapped his arms about her and kissed her thoroughly. She hesitated before she kissed him back, leading to a satisfactorily passionate attempt to convince her of his interest and affection.
Reluctantly he raised his head. She looked rosy and well kissed and, to his relief, a wee bit happier.
“I thought I must have disgusted you when I was so…so eager,” she confessed. “Or I did something wrong that made you stop.”
When he stepped away after Bess offered him everything, he’d known he hurt her. She’d left herself dangerously vulnerable, and his abrupt withdrawal had to smart. But he’d had no idea his denial had made her doubt herself so profoundly.
What a bloody idiot he was. He’d underestimated the powerful innocence that made her see his barely held restraint as lack of interest. “You were glorious in my arms, a dream. You’re everything I desire in a woman. Surely you know that.”
“You seemed to want me. And then…you didn’t.”
“I’ll always want you. Even when I’m old and gray, and I need an ear trumpet to hear you call me a blockhead.”
When the wee joke roused the ghost of a smile, fresh hope flooded in. With every moment, she looked more confident, thank God. “So you wanted to keep kissing me?”
“Hell, Bess, I wanted more than that—but it wasn’t the time or place.” His voice deepened into a husky rumble. “I intend to claim you as my wife and my countess in front of the entire world. You’re worthy of every honor, not some hole-in-the-corner seduction, no matter how mad I was for you.”
“Oh, Rory, what a fool I am.” Her eyes glowed with such light that his heart turned over. “You were being noble. I should have realized.”
“And hellish painful it was, too.” He kissed her quickly to thank her for calling him Rory. “Silly widgeon.”
For the first time today, those lush lips curve
d in a genuine smile. “So you’re not proposing just to save my reputation?”
He wasn’t given to flowery speeches or dramatic gestures, but this moment called for something memorable. The emotion shining unspoken in her eyes defeated inhibitions.
He shifted back a pace and caught her hand. Then he dropped to one knee and stared up into the bonnie face that fired his dreams. “I’m proposing, Bess, because without you my life is incomplete. I’m proposing because from the moment I met you, you’ve filled my every thought.”
“That’s better,” she said unsteadily. Serious dark blue eyes studied him. “I’ve only known you a week.”
His grip on her hand tightened. “It’s been a devil of an eventful week, though, worth more than six months of society courtship where we’d sit over teacups with a chaperone counting every word.”
“Would you…would you court me like that if I asked you?”
His blood surged in raging denial. He wanted her now—in his bed and in his life. “Yes.”
She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You don’t sound too sure.”
He gave her a rueful smile. “I’m impatient to make you mine. But I can wait.” His voice rasped as he continued. “Just for the love of heaven, don’t make me wait too long.”
“A year?”