“I love touching you,” she confided.
Love. Strange how love could transcend mere words. Never, ever had she dreamed of finding a man with whom she felt so elementally entangled in mind, in body, in spirit.
“And I you.” John’s demonstration snapped her out of her reveries. “Which reminds me—you haven’t said yes yet.”
“Haven’t I?”
“Definitely not. I would remember it.”
She traced a fingertip along his jaw. “How do you spell ‘yes’?”
“You don’t spell it,” he growled. “You feel it. Here, and here.”
She let out a little purr.
“And here.”
The sound was now more of a moan. “That’s very wicked.” And very wonderful. “I—I think you had better stop, before our tentative tip-toeing down the Road to Perdition turns into a runaway gallop.”
“Then say it,” demanded John.
Deciding that her teasing had gone on long enough, Olivia hitched closer and leaned her head on his shoulder. “Yes.”
“Louder.”
“Ye gods, if you are going to revert to being the Perfect Military Officer and bellow orders at me, I may have to reconsider.”
“It wasn’t precisely an order.” He smiled. “It was more of a request.”
“Well, in that case…” A resounding “yes” filled the alcove, its echo mellowed by the carved wood and leather bindings.
“Excellent. That means we—”
A much louder sound suddenly intruded on their intimate interlude.
Rap, rap. It came again. “John? John? That’s enough chess for one evening. It’s time to return to the drawing room. Henry has brought up a special bottle of port from the cellar.”
John let out a martyred sigh. “You know, much as I adore my sister, she has an unfortunate habit of interrupting us just when things are getting interesting.”
“And Scottie and Lucy are eager to join in the celebration,” added Cecilia. “Cook has made them a pitcher of festive fruit punch.”
He eased Olivia down off his knee and helped her fluff her skirts back into place. “But I suppose in this case we had better bow to convention and put off our wild urges until later.”
The loss of his big, warm body drew an exhale from Olivia as well. “True. I imagine that by this time Cecilia and Henry are wondering what sort of game we are playing in here.”
He chuckled. “No they’re not.”
She straightened his collar and retied his cravat. “I hope they won’t mind having the Hellion of High Street as part of their family.”
“I think they are nearly as happy as I am.” He blew out another breath. “Speaking of which, three weeks of reading the banns of marriage is a deucedly long time to wait before we can become man and wife. However, much as I would prefer to obtain a special license and have the ceremony tomorrow, it’s probably best to be patient, so as not to stir any whispers of scandal in Society.”
&n
bsp; “My sisters would find it highly romantic if we were to do something shockingly scandalous,” said Olivia dryly. “However, my mother would not. And seeing as she’s suffered enough worry on my account, I ought to allow her to enjoy the moment she thought would never come.”
Flashing a roguish grin, John drew a slim book out from one of the bookshelves. “I shall present her with this gift when I pay her a formal engagement visit.” He angled the gilt-stamped title into the candlelight.
All’s Well That Ends Well.