Amanda McCabe
Page 21
“I love you! I adore you. And I will marry you, before you come to your senses and see what a poor choice you have made.”
“I have made the best choice, for I am marrying the most beautiful woman in England, and the most clever and the bravest.” Michael sat down on the nearest chair and pulled her onto his lap.
Once she would have been truly appalled. This was a most blatant violation of the rules! A lady should never behave like a tavern maid, especially not in a ducal drawing room. Now she giggled like a schoolgirl, and twined her arms about his neck. “The bravest?”
“Most ladies after meeting my father would run the other way,” he answered, nuzzling a kiss against her throat. “Not you, my redheaded Valkyrie. My beautiful defender.”
“Then it would seem we are well and truly betrothed,” Rosalind said, with a happy sigh. All her doubts, her old weaknesses, were fallen away. This was the right thing to do—this was her future.
Michael took her hand and pressed his lips to her palm. He turned it over—and paused. “If we are truly betrothed, my Rosie, then where is your ring? Never say my father’s spy stole it from you!”
“Of course not.” Rosalind reached up into the tight long sleeve of her gown and pulled out the ring. She placed it in his hand. “It is silly, but I just wanted you to put it on my finger again, now that there is no doubt about either of our feelings.”
He grinned at her. “Very well. Mrs. Rosalind Chase, will you marry me?”
“Viscount Morley, I will.”
Michael slid the ring back onto her finger, where it dazzled in the sunlight from the tall windows. He lifted her hand and kissed it lingeringly, moving his lips over her fingers. “You are truly mine now.”
Rosalind leaned her cheek against the silk of his hair. “As you are mine?”
He stared up at her intently. “I am always and forever yours, Rosie. When will you marry me? Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow!”
“I am sure I could procure a special license. Perhaps the Waylands would let us have the wedding here?”
Rosalind was quite sure Georgina would be delighted to have the wedding here, and would immediately launch into arrangements. It was a good thing Georgina’s taste was so excellent, for Rosalind’s own head was spinning far too much to think of licenses and flowers and cake. “It is all so sudden…”
“Or we could make a dash for Gretna Green! Anything you want, Rosie. Anything—if you will only marry me. But I know you have arrangements you’ll need to make.”
“So I do. I have already written to Miss James, one of my teachers. She is a very competent young lady, and I am sure she will be able to look after the Seminary for the next term. I only have to let Allen know, so he can be here for the wedding.”
“Next week, then,” Michael said eagerly. “And not a day later! We will wed here, and then I am taking you to Italy.”
Rosalind gasped. “Italy!”
“I trust there are no objections? If there is someplace else you would rather go…”
“Oh, no. I have always dreamed of seeing Italy. Georgina says that Venice is the most romantic place in the world. It is so full of history, so warm and sunny.”
“So far from my father.”
“Indeed. Another great advantage of Italy. I have no objections at all. Perhaps Violet would care to join us? Travel can be so educational.”
“You are an extraordinary lady, my Rosie. Not many women would want their sister-in-law along on their wedding trip.”
“Violet is a dear. I cannot see that she would give us any trouble, unless she falls in love with some dark-eyed Italian. And Italy is very far from your father. I am sure it would vex him greatly to have us all so far out of his reach.”
Michael gave a whoop of laughter, and kissed her again and again. And yet again, longer and sweeter. “You are a sly one. In fact, I am sure such deviousness must be against the rules,” he murmured, when he at last raised his lips from hers.
Rosalind leaned back against his shoulder and sighed happily. “Ah, but my darling Michael, I have discovered that there is really only one rule that should never be broken.”
He nuzzled her cheek, blowing lightly on the loose curls at her temple. “And what rule is that?”
“The rule of true love, of course.”
Amanda McCabe’s books have been nominated for many awards, including the RITA Award, the Romantic Times Reviewer’s Choice Award, the Daphne DuMaurier Award, the National Readers Choice Award, and the Holt Medallion.
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