"Allow you? I insist upon it. I'm as anxious as everyone else to find out what will happen in the next installment of A Sea Captain's Adventures." His eyes turned serious. "Now, will you answer my question? Will you marry me?"
Hayley gazed at him, her heart so filled with love, she could barely speak. She managed to squeak out only one word, but apparently that was fine with Stephen as it was clearly the word he wanted to hear.
"Yes," she croaked.
"Thank God," he uttered fervently. He lowered his head and captured her lips in an endless kiss, a kiss filled with aching tenderness and unmistakable love. After several minutes he raised his head. "There is one request I need to make," he said in a not too steady voice.
"What's that?"
"At the risk of sounding overbearing and demanding, if that bastard Popplefart isn't out of this house in exactly three minutes, I'm going to fling him out by the seat of his pants."
Hayley's eyes widened. "Oh, dear. I forgot all about poor dear Jeremy—"
"Poor dear Jeremy?"
"Yes. I must tell him I can't accept his proposal—"
"His what?"
"Jeremy asked me to marry him."
"He's a dead man," Stephen ground out. "I'm going to break every bloody bone in his damn body—" He broke off his diatribe and glared at her. "When did he propose?"
"Yesterday," she said, trying very hard not to show her pleasure at Stephen's display of jealousy.
"And you didn't refuse him immediately?"
"Well, no. I—"
"Were you considering his proposal?" he asked in a suddenly quiet voice.
She reached up and framed his scowling face between her palms. "I'd be less than truthful if I said I didn't think about it, but I had every intention of telling him today after the party that I couldn't accept him. I'll tell him as soon as we go downstairs."
"I still feel like smashing his face," Stephen muttered. "I saw the way he kissed your temple when he escorted you from the forest. If Popplepuss ever so much as touches you again, he's going to find himself in a great deal of pain."
The corners of Hayley's lips twitched. "Popplemore."
"Indeed."
Hayley brushed her lips against Stephen's grim mouth. "Why don't we go downstairs right now? We'll tell the family our news and I'll escort Jeremy to the door." She wrapped her arms around his neck and ran the tip of her tongue over his lower lip.
"An excellent suggestion," he agreed, drawing her tightly against him. He threaded his fingers through her curls and kissed her, a kiss that began softly but soon grew into a passionate exchange.
"Stephen," Hayley breathed, clinging to his shoulders while his warm lips marauded down the side of her neck.
He flicked his tongue over the rapidly beating pulse at the base of her throat. "Hmmm?"
"Everyone will wonder what we're doing up here. We really should go downstairs," she said without much conviction.
Stephen gave her one last, lingering kiss. "You're right. We can't stay in here any longer. If we do, we'll end up in your bed." He tucked her hand in his arm and started toward the door.
"Wait," Hayley said, freeing herself. She bent down and picked up the bouquet of flowers Stephen had given her. It had slipped from her fingers during their kiss, and now looked a bit crushed. "I mustn't leave my flowers here." She stood and brought the bouquet to her face, inhaling deeply. "They're the most wonderful gift I've ever received."
Stephen gently touched her cheek. "Do you know what the most wonderful gift I've ever received is?" he asked softly.
Hayley looked up into his face—the most compelling, handsome face she'd ever seen. She loved him so much, she ached with it. She shook her head.
He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a fervent kiss to her palm. "You. You, my love, are most wonderful gift I've ever received."
Chapter 32
« ^ »
Three months later, the night before the wedding finally arrived.
Thank God, Stephen thought, sipping a brandy in the library at his father's town house.
Waiting those three interminably long months to make Hayley his wife had nearly killed him. He'd wanted to marry her immediately by special license, but he realized it would be incredibly selfish to deny Hayley the sort of wedding she deserved just because he couldn't wait to begin their life together, to say nothing of the fact that he could barely keep his hands off her. And Hayley insisted that as anxious as she was to marry him, she wanted to wait until after Pamela's wedding.
So Stephen waited three bloody long months, during which time it was necessary for him to call upon every ounce of his self-control to keep from making love to Hayley. He'd thrown himself into his work with a vengeance, keeping his mind and hands occupied. Immediately after Pamela and Marshall's wedding last month, he'd moved Hayley and the rest of the Albrights to London. While Albright Cottage was empty, Stephen arranged for the house to be remodeled and repaired, and Hayley had given the house to Pamela and Marshall as a wedding gift.
Once Hayley arrived in London, it seemed she was busy every moment with his mother and Victoria making wedding plans. Stephen grumbled about not being able to spend any time with his fiancée, but just having Hayley close to him, knowing that in a few short weeks they would be together, filled him with a contentment he'd never known. He arranged for tutors for Nathan and Andrew and spent a great deal of time showing the boys and Callie around London while the women planned the nuptials.
Pierre was ensconced in Stephen's kitchen, and Grimsley, resplendent in maroon and gold livery, answered the door. Winston was put in charge of household maintenance, a job he took very seriously along with a budding flirtation with Stephen's housekeeper.
And now, after all the waiting, all the sleepless nights lying alone in his huge bed, his body tense and aching, his wait was finally over. Tomorrow Hayley would be his wife. Tonight was the last damn night he'd ever have to spend without her. Propping his boots on an ottoman, he closed his eyes, leaned his head against the chair back, and heaved a contented sigh.
"You seem quite pleased with yourself," Gregory said, entering the room. He settled himself in a wing chair opposite Stephen.
"Indeed I am," Stephen agreed without hesitation. He eyed his brother up and down. The last three months had wrought a huge change in Gregory. Ever since the horrible episode with Melissa, Gregory had taken stock of his life and had made some drastic improvements. He was much more serious and responsible now, and for the first time was showing an interest in something other than himself. He'd quit gambling and drinking to excess. At Hayley's suggestion, Stephen had handed over to him the running of two small estates. If you show your brother that you have faith and confidence in him, I'm positive he will live up to your trust. Stephen had been highly skeptical of her advice, but to his surprise, she was right. Gregory was doing an admirable job.
Gregory raised his snifter in salute. "Here's to your last night as a bachelor," he said with a half-grin.
"Amen," Stephen said fervently. After three months of celibacy, he felt like he was going to explode.
They sat in silence for several minutes, sipping brandy and watching the dancing flames. Finally Gregory broke the quiet.
"I, ah, want you to know—" he began, then broke off awkwardly.
Stephen turned to look at him and was surprised to see a red flush staining his brother's face. "Yes?"
"I want you to know, over the past several months…" Gregory cleared his throat. "I appreciate your confidence in me, Stephen. I realize we were never close growing up, and after what happened with Melissa—"
"What happened with Melissa was in no way your fault, Gregory," Stephen said quietly.
"I suppose not, but I still cannot help but feel somewhat responsible."
"Don't. It's over. And it's not necessary for you to thank me. You've proven yourself to me by your hard work and good business sense."
Silence settled again, the only sound in the room the crackling of
the fire.
"I like Hayley very much," Gregory said several minutes later. "She's like a breath of fresh air."
"She is indeed." Rose-scented fresh air.
"Mother has grown very fond of her, and Victoria absolutely loves her," Gregory continued. "But most amazing of all is Father's reaction to her."
Stephen chuckled. "Yes, that is miraculous, is it not?"
"I believe Father has quite fallen under some sort of spell."
"Indeed," Stephen agreed. "His warmth toward Hayley is nothing short of staggering. But in a way I'm not surprised. The first time I saw Callie I remember her telling me that I was going to love Hayley—that everyone loves Hayley."
"Smart little girl," Gregory said with a smile.
"Very smart."
"Too bad Hayley doesn't have another sister," Gregory said in a wistful voice. "Pamela is already married, and Callie is much too young."
"There's always Aunt Olivia," Stephen reminded his brother with an arch look. "I believe you have replaced me in her affections."
Gregory laughed. "She's quite a character. This morning I dropped my handkerchief on the drawing room rug. Aunt Olivia breezed in and asked what I was doing. I said, 'I dropped something on the rug.' She blushed, said, 'Well, if you insist,' and treated me to a bone-rattling hug. Then she shook her finger at me and called me a shameless rake."
A grin pulled at Stephen's lips. "Yes, I've inherited quite a colorful bunch."
"You're forgetting about the dogs," Gregory reminded him. "You know—the Three Hellhounds of Mayfair?"
Stephen groaned. "Don't remind me."
"At least you need not worry about anyone breaking into your home with those beasts about."
"I feel perfectly safe," Stephen agreed. "I fear the porcelain stands to suffer the most."
"They'll chew up every piece of furniture you own," Gregory warned with a laugh.
A sudden image of Hayley—laughing and playing with her huge dogs—flashed in Stephen's mind. "No doubt. But it's worth it, Gregory. Believe me, it's worth it."
* * *
The wedding took place the next day at ten in the morning at St. Paul's Cathedral. Stephen stood at the altar next to Gregory and waited with barely concealed impatience for Hayley to walk down the long aisle.
Callie came down the aisle first, smiling shyly, scattering rose petals. When she saw Stephen, she cast a surreptitious glance in both directions then puckered her lips and blew him a kiss. In return, he cast a quick look around him then sent her a broad wink that made her giggle.
Pamela came second, lovely in a pale peach gown. She smiled at Stephen as she took her place at the front of the church. Stephen smiled in return, then froze as he caught sight of Hayley. She glided slowly down the aisle, her gloved hand resting lightly on Andrew's sleeve.
Stephen's breath caught and his heart stalled. Clad in a simple, elegant ivory satin gown with a short train, she was the most exquisite creature he'd ever seen. Long strands of aquamarines and diamonds wound through her chestnut curls, twinkling as they caught the sunlight pouring through the stain-glassed windows.
But it was her eyes that captured Stephen and held him prisoner. Her beautiful aqua eyes steadily gazed at him, luminous, shining, and filled with such obvious love, Stephen was humbled. He wasn't sure what he'd done to deserve the love of this beautiful angel, but he was going to accept it gratefully and thank God for it every day.
The ceremony took a mere quarter hour, and at the end of it Stephen tucked his wife's, his wife's, hand in his arm and triumphantly led her from the church.
Back at his town house, a sumptuous wedding feast was served, but Stephen barely swallowed a bite. The only thing he could concentrate on was Hayley. On her glowing smile, her shining eyes, and the beguiling blush that colored her cheeks every time he met her gaze across the table.
He couldn't wait to get her all to himself, and mentally congratulated himself on his brilliant plan of departing on the first leg of their wedding trip immediately after the meal. He had no intention of spending his wedding night in a town house filled with people, no matter how fond of them he was. They would travel this afternoon to his country estate, where they'd spend a week before continuing on to France. He cast a surreptitious glance at the mantel clock and tried to hide his impatience to leave. Soon. Very soon.
After two hours that felt more like two years, Stephen finally helped Hayley into his elegant black coach. She leaned out the window and threw her bouquet of roses and pansies. Stephen's very startled housekeeper caught the flowers.
He settled himself across from Hayley and signaled the driver to depart. The onlookers waved at the departing couple, and Hayley waved back until she could no longer see anyone behind her.
Stephen watched her, his heart hammering in his chest, his pulses galloping out of control. She was his. Finally.
She smiled at him, her eyes glowing, and his breath stalled. There were so many things he wanted, needed, to say to her, yet he couldn't seem to find his voice.
"The ceremony was lovely, was it not?" she asked.
He swallowed and nodded.
"And the luncheon was delicious. Everyone seemed to enjoy themselves…" Her voice trailed off and she frowned. "Stephen? Is something wrong?"
He cleared his dry throat. "Everything is perfect."
"Are you certain? You seem—"
"I love you, Hayley." The words erupted from his lips like steam escaping a boiling kettle. He drew in a deep breath, frustrated at his inability to express the feelings bubbling inside him. "When I saw you in the church, walking toward me, you were so exquisite. Everything I ever could have dreamed of." He took her hands and squeezed them between his palms. "I wish I knew the words to say to tell you how much you mean to me. How much you've changed my life. How happy you make me."
Tears misted her eyes. "I know, Stephen. You tell me every day with the loving things you do. Your actions speak your love, and your beautiful smile tells me you're happy. Words aren't always necessary."
Relief washed over him. She understood. She knew.
Never breaking their gaze, he moved to sit beside her and cradled her face between his hands. He brushed his mouth gently over hers, his heart slapping against his ribs, filled with aching love for her. When she sighed his name, he gathered her into his arms, deepening their kiss until he trembled with the effort of holding back.
Lifting his head, he gazed into aqua depths swimming with love. Love for him. Dear God, what a feeling. His entire body throbbed in response, filling him with an overpowering need to love her. Here. Now.
A vivid image of her, naked, reaching out for him, flashed in his mind and he stifled a groan. He disentangled her arms from around his neck and resolutely settled her hands in her lap. Then he moved as far away from her on the velvet squabs as he could. His bride deserved a proper bed with champagne and candlelight. He was a man of self-control. He could wait until tonight. As long as he stopped touching her.
In an effort to distract his attention from thoughts of that, he pulled a deck of cards from his pocket. "Would you care to play a game of whist?"
Her jaw dropped. "Are you angry with me?"
"No."
"Then what on earth is wrong? You said you couldn't wait to be alone with me, and now that you are, you want to play cards?"
He scrubbed his hands over his face. "Of course I don't want to play cards, but I can't continue kissing you."
"May I ask why not?"
"Because I want you so badly, damn it." The ragged admission was all but wrenched from his chest. "If I touch you again, I won't be able to stop. You deserve better than a quick tumble in a moving carriage."
Understanding dawned in her eyes, and the look she leveled on him was so full of sensual invitation, hot tingles shot through his every nerve. Sweat broke out on his forehead as he fought to retain his tenuous hold on his control. "If you keep looking at me like that, sweetheart, you'll be naked in a trice, I swear."
"
Oh dear." She ran a single fingertip over his lower lip. "A trice? How long is that?"
With that single, gentle touch he lost the battle. "You're about to find out." With a heartfelt groan he plunged his fingers into her hair, scattering pins hither and yon. He crushed her lips beneath his in a desperate, aching kiss that robbed both of them of breath. If his fingers hadn't been shaking so badly, he no doubt could have divested her of her clothing in less than a minute. The two and a half minutes it took nearly killed him. In spite of his trembling hands, his own clothing was gone in thirty seconds flat.
"Hayley," he groaned, covering her body with his own. "God, how I love you." She felt so damn good. It seemed like an eternity since he'd last felt her soft skin touching his. He ravished her mouth, his tongue plundering then retreating in a dance of love that made his blood thrum in his veins.
He tried to go slowly, but he couldn't. He was too hard, too aroused, had been denied for too long, wanted her too badly. He entered her in one long, heart-stopping stroke that tore a ragged growl from his chest.
She clutched him to her, murmuring his name over and over. He felt her climax ripple through her and his passion exploded. He throbbed for an endless moment, so deep inside her he couldn't tell where she ended and he began. He collapsed on top of her, breathless, sated, and damn near dead. It was a good three minutes before he was able to lift his head and look at her.
Hayley looked up at him, her eyes glowing. "My goodness. I believe I quite like being ravished in a moving carriage."
Stephen rolled them onto their sides and brushed a tangled curl from her brow, a half-grin touching his lips. "I did warn you what would happen."
"Indeed you did."
Stephen ran his finger down the bridge of her nose. "I tried to act in a gentlemanly manner and wait until we had a comfortable bed."
"I waited three months, Stephen. I didn't want to wait a moment longer. Besides, the barn door had already been opened, if you see my point. I saw no reason in prolonging our agony."
A chuckle rumbled in Stephen's chest. "Only you would think of cows at a time like this."
A wicked gleam lit her eyes. "Actually, cows aren't what I was thinking about at all."
RED ROSES MEAN LOVE Page 33
