French Jade: A dazzling Regency love story
Page 18
His mouth covered hers, with passion and gentleness. She put her arms about his neck, and clung. His body was so strong and fine, she could lean against him with confidence. His hands were so gentle, she would put her heart into them and never regret. She nestled against him, and felt his lips brush her forehead.
“And what were you going to tell me, darling?” he murmured.
Minna stiffened. Oh, what she had almost said!
But there must be no more deceit between them.
She lifted her head and looked up into his clear grey eyes. “I was going to say — I could not marry you, Oliver, without love,” she said softly. “I love you so much, and it would not be right to make you — I mean — you proposed because you had — compromised me — and it was not right — your sacrifice —”
His eyes softened, he smiled down at her, and bent to brush his lips against her cheek.
“Brave girl,” he said. “Now you are honest with me! Do you love me, then?”
“Oh, yes, I love you dearly!”
She was kissed for her confession, and time slid away for a bit. They finally came back to reality, and sat together on the sofa, hands clasped, smiles mingling, eyes ready to gaze with confidence. Oliver reached into his pocket and drew out a little ring box of green jade, and opened it. He showed her the ring inside, of a huge diamond surrounded by five fine emeralds of green fire.
“Like your eyes, my darling,” he said tenderly. He slipped it on to her finger. “I have also some jade jewellery for you,” he teased. “But that is only a bracelet and pendant, some earrings and such. I know you prefer jade!”
“I shall love it,” she said, with a mischievous smile, her spirits rebounding rapidly. “It shall remind me of how I played the jade for you — and you did not despise me, Oliver!”
“Nay, rather I adored you the more!” He laughed. “What a tease you were! When I came to realize you were not a French jade, a wicked widow, the Madame Dubois — that you were Minna, my Minerva — what a shock it was! You had changed before my eyes!”
“And are you disappointed?” she asked, half wistfully, leaning against his breast. “Are you disappointed that I am only Minna? Plain, demure Minna?”
“But you are not,” he assured her. “I am happy to marry my spirited and beautiful bride. You were always lovely. However, in your masquerade, you did change and come out of your shell, darling. I had always admired you. You were smart, good, kind. But —” And he smiled teasingly.
“What?” she demanded eagerly, hungry for his praises.
He kissed her forehead. “When you masqueraded as your cousin, and acted a part, you did not so much become like that Frenchwoman! You became what you had the potential of becoming, a bright and wonderful woman. I observed you with pleasure. Many beautiful women are cold and selfish, they are so charmed with themselves!”
“Some — can be,” she agreed demurely.
“But, darling, you were not. I watched and listened as you moved among our friends. And you were kindness and thoughtfulness themselves to the other shy ones. You showed your generous helpful nature to others. I was — most pleased with you, I must admit. And amazed!”
“Surprised?” she asked, not quite so pleased. “Did you think me selfish? I suppose I have been — to Mother and Percy — thinking of myself first.”
“No, no! Rather, you forwarded Percy’s courtship very cleverly, and I must say he found himself a fine wife. I shall enjoy having Percy and Denise as my in-laws! And never did you distress nor disgrace your lady mother. Rather you showed her good training of you, and her example. Even in playing a jade, you did not forget you were a lady!”
“Oh, Oliver, you say kind things,” she whispered. “I fear I was brazen, a flirt, with you.”
He smiled a bit, and whispered in her ear, “Not more than I enjoyed!” he said. And he bit the lobe.
She sighed. “And when we — marry,” she said shyly. “Will you — continue to — I mean — treat me — I mean —”
“I shall always treat my wife as the lady she is,” he avowed solemnly. “In public, she shall be honoured!”
“Oh — thank you, Oliver,” she murmured, a bit disappointed.
“Of course — in our bedroom,” he added, into her ear, with a rumble of passion in his deep voice. “In our bedroom — I shall treat you as my very own French jade!”
And he kissed her fiercely.
***
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Copyright © The Estate of Janet Louise Roberts, 1982
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eBook ISBN: 978-1-80055-198-5