by Amanda Scott
“Oh, my lord, you do apologize so beautifully. Of course, I hoped to see you actually upon your knees, but….”
She was not allowed to continue. He jumped to his feet, looming over her, and reached to take her hands. “Come out of that chair, baggage. I cannot propose in form to a lady who remains curled up like a damned kitten.”
Daintily, she untucked her feet, pushing her skirt down as she straightened her legs, but she remained seated and paid no heed to his outstretched hand. “Propose, my lord?” She looked up shyly. “I was afraid you were furious, that you would never speak to me again. What I did—”
“Hush,” he said gently. She did not resist when he pulled her to her feet and lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him. “You need not apologize to me, little one. The boot is on the other foot entirely, for I deserved it.” He stroked the side of her cheek. “Catheryn, my love. No, don’t close your eyes. Look at me. That’s better. Now, listen carefully. I love you. I know I failed to mention that bit before I blundered into my stupid speech last night, but I mention it now. I have loved you for quite a long time and have feared to put it to the test. Your attitude toward me has been so casual, almost sisterly. That night in the garden, I was nearly afraid I had ruined everything. And the next day in the library, I still wasn’t sure. Then I scarcely saw you at all for three days and Monday came home to find you gone. I didn’t realize how much I loved you until you brought up the fact that you might be leaving soon, and then to have it happen so suddenly! I nearly went crazy in London without you. I was so worried that you would blame me for Teddy’s accident. You cannot imagine my relief when we heard he was safe!”
“Tiffany wrote that you were like a bear with a sore head,” Catheryn observed sweetly.
“Did she? I probably was. I’m sure I made Mama’s life miserable. I was so frustrated at having to stay in town when I wanted only to be here. And then to have to put up with your aunt’s remarks … well, perhaps you can understand how I managed to work myself into such a snit. By the time I did arrive I was furious. Even so, I didn’t realize how furious until you walked into the study looking so lovely and calm. You may have called the shot accurately when you accused me of having too high a regard for my own authority. On the other hand, I wanted to take you in my arms and tell you how much I had missed you, but I was afraid to do that, so perhaps I lost my temper instead. Then you lost yours as well, and I was terrified you would make good your threat to return to town and set up your own house. I’ve expected daily to hear that you were ready to leave.”
“And I’ve been afraid you would send me away,” she muttered. “And after last night—”
“Damn last night,” he said. “I want very much for you to become my wife, Catheryn.” He seemed hesitant again. “Is it possible, do you think?”
“What would your family say, sir?”
“I don’t give a damn what they say,” he replied with a searching look. “But if it matters to you, my mother will be delighted and the brat overjoyed. I didn’t beat him, you know.”
“I suppose that’s a point in your favor.” She gave herself a mental hug and began to enjoy the situation. “Why did you not, my lord?”
“Because, little witch, I thought it would please you if I restrained myself.”
“Well, it does,” she admitted, “though I suppose you tore a strip off him and threatened murder the next time he whispers out of turn.” Dambroke only shrugged. “Well, he did ask for it, I expect. Will Tiffany approve, do you think?”
“Probably, but it doesn’t matter. She’s Tony’s worry now. Poor Tony. I don’t envy him.”
“No, why should you? He manages her far better than you do, sir.” She tempered her words with a smile, however, and he grinned at her.
“He does, does he?”
“Yes, sir. Besides, you have said you wish to be saddled with me, and I am not precisely conformable, you know.”
“I shall manage,” he said with mock severity.
She appeared to give the matter serious thought. “I suppose you mean you will beat me,” she mused, “however, I am encouraged by the fact that you have never beaten your sister, no matter how—” Suddenly, she was being firmly shaken.
“Enough, Catheryn!” He stopped shaking her and looked down in near exasperation. “Have you done with all your foolishness? Say, ‘yes, my lord.’”
“Yes, my lord.” Her cheeks were rosy.
“Good! That method answered very nicely. We shall put it to a second test. Do you love me? Say ‘yes, my lord.’” Her blushes betrayed her. She tried to pull away, but he held her, gently but firmly. “Answer me, little one.”
“You have not spoken of my fortune, sir,” she said demurely. “Will it annoy you if Sir Horace refuses to relinquish before I—” Again she was not allowed to continue. Instead, she found herself crushed against his broad chest in an enveloping hug.
“Naughty wench,” he murmured against her curls. “What do you deserve for this behavior?” When her only answer was the irrepressible chuckle, he held her away with another shake. “I believe you are incorrigible. Will you or will you not marry me?”
“I will, my lord.” He went perfectly still, and she felt her own knees begin to tremble. It took a moment for the facts to sink in. He was truly in love with her, and she had just agreed to become his wife. Soon she would be able to tell him about Dr. Keate, and maybe Teddy would be back at Eton by Michaelmas. She raised glowing eyes to his. “Oh, Richard, of course I will! I do love you so much, my lord!” And with a contented sigh she allowed herself to be gathered once again into his arms.
A moment later, he gently lifted her chin. This time, however, his kiss was no mere brush of lips as it had been the night of the countess’s ball, but a soul-claiming intimation of things to come. Catheryn responded with enthusiasm, thinking briefly that if the feelings he stirred within her were wicked or even wanton, they were also incredibly delightful. Indeed, joy spread through her with a warmth that seemed to make her very skin tingle. It was perfectly wonderful!
Suddenly, the East Hall door flew open with a bang that startled them both, and Miss Lucy strode in. “Here you are, Catheryn. But what are you doing! Very improper, my dears. Very improper indeed!”
“Cousin Lucy,” Dambroke said smoothly, retaining his hold on Catheryn, “you shall be the first to congratulate me. Catheryn has agreed to become my wife.”
“Well, thank Heaven!” replied the old lady roundly. “Now, perhaps I shall be allowed a decent night’s sleep!” And, turning on her heel, she shut the door firmly behind her, leaving them to their very agreeable business.
About the Author
A fourth-generation Californian of Scottish descent, Amanda Scott is the author of more than fifty romantic novels, many of which appeared on the USA Today bestseller list. Her Scottish heritage and love of history (she received undergraduate and graduate degrees in history at Mills College and California State University, San Jose, respectively) inspired her to write historical fiction. Credited by Library Journal with starting the Scottish romance subgenre, Scott has also won acclaim for her sparkling Regency romances. She is the recipient of the Romance Writers of America’s RITA Award (for Lord Abberley’s Nemesis, 1986) and the RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award. She lives in central California with her husband.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any rese
mblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1981 by Lynne Scott-Drennan
cover design by Mimi Bark
978-1-4804-1533-1
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