The Perfect Kiss

by Anne Gracie

  Carradice raised his brows. “Just like that? And if she refuses you? Or her family opposes you?”

  Dominic examined his nails again.

  “I expect you’ve heard rumors that she’s an heiress,” Reyne commented.

  Dominic said, “Her fortune is of no interest to me. I doubt it matches mine.”

  “I suppose you know she’s stubborn and argumentative. All the Merridew girls wear their husbands to shreds,” said Carradice.

  Dominic looked them over, each one relaxed, healthy, and almost smug with happiness. “Yes, you all have the look of henpecked men. Ah well, we must all bear our crosses in life.”

  “Do you love her?”

  Dominic gave him a flat, unblinking stare. He had no intention of responding. That was for him and Grace alone.

  Carradice gave him a shrewd look. “When you first met Grace,” he said slowly, “what was it about her that struck you?”

  Dominic thought for a moment. “Her foot.”

  “Her foot?” they chorused.

  “Yes.” He gave an insolent smile. “She kicked me. Twice!” If that didn’t make the fists start flying, nothing would.

  “Kicked you?” Gideon glanced at the others in triumph and said, “The Limb kicked him! I knew it! We have a love match on our hands!”

  Dominic couldn’t believe his ears. “I think you misunderstood,” he said. “I told you she kicked me!”

  Carradice smiled at his confusion. “Yes, she did the same to me the first day we met. It’s why I call her the Limb. It’s an excellent sign. You see, dear boy, we thought she’d been broken of the habit long since. She must have been keeping it in reserve for a special occasion.”

  Carradice and the duke both shook his hand and left.

  Dominic stared after them. “But I deserved the kick. I kissed her. Twice.”

  Blacklock and Reyne laughed. “Let me give you a tip,” said Blacklock as he passed. “Once you’ve kissed a Merridew girl . . . there’s no point fighting.”

  Sir Oswald Merridew glared at him from under beetling white brows. “Well, come on, D’Acre, don’t stand there like a stump! If you’re goin’ to marry m’great-niece, we have settlements to discuss! And I’ll tell you straight, they’d better be good!”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” said Dominic stiffly. “I have no wish to touch a penny of her money. It shall be in the settlements that she retains everything.”

  Sir Oswald raised his bushy white brows. “Happen t’know your estate’s in a bad way.”

  “It’s not your concern. It shan’t affect her. I have my own private fortune that is unaffected by my father’s will.”

  The old man nodded, then creaked to his feet. “That’s what my informant said, too.”

  He chuckled at Dominic’s look of surprise. “Y’don’t think I was fooled by Grace’s little strategems do you? Gel I’ve known since she was ten years old? I knew what she and Gussie were up to all along. Had you investigated on the off chance. Some sort o’ guardian I’d be if I didn’t keep an eye on who my gel’s mixin’ with.”

  An hour later he ushered Dominic to the front door. “Come back tomorrow mornin’ and you can pop the question to the gel herself.”

  “I’M SO SORRY, DOMINIC.”

  She came to him, glowing and beautiful and dressed in a shade of blue that exactly matched her eyes. Currently very distressed eyes.

  “What has upset you, love?”

  “I don’t know what they said or did to you last night, but whatever it was, you don’t have to do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “Marry me.”

  He frowned. “Dammit, woman, that’s my line.”

  “What?”

  He sank down onto one knee and said, “Grace Merridew, will you marry me?”

  She was silent for a moment. “Don’t, Dominic. I can’t bear it.”

  His grip on her hands tightened. “Marry me, Greystoke.”

  “Stop it! I know you never wanted this. But much as—”

  “This is a very cold floor,” he interrupted in a plaintive voice. “Will one of you—Grace or Greystoke—please say you’ll marry me so I can get up.”

  She bit her lip. “Are you sure, Dominic?”

  He smiled. “Of course I’m sure.” He stood up and pulled her into his arms. “Why else do you think I brought you here? I told you I wasn’t going to lose you.”

  “But you don’t believe in marriage.”

  He smiled wryly. “I didn’t, but you do, and if anyone can make me believe, it will be you, my love. Now, for the third time, will you marry me?”

  “But what about Wolfestone? You’ll lose Wolfestone if you marry me.” Tears flooded her eyes. “Oh, Dominic, we made all those plans . . .”

  He squeezed her hands. “We’ll make new plans.”

  “I don’t want you to lose Wolfestone.”

  He made a dismissive gesture. “I never had it in the first place, love. You can’t miss what you’ve never had.”

  “But you need Wolfestone, Dominic. And Wolfestone needs you.”

  He swore. “What I need, Greyst—Grace, is you, dammit! I don’t need a moldering old castle and a run-down estate—the Wolfestone people will survive as they have for six hundred years. Someone else will own the land. With any luck it will be someone good. But it won’t be me.” His voice softened. “I will be with my love, watching the moon rise over the pyramids, or sailing into Venice at dawn.

  “Come now.” He leaned forward and took her hands in his and said in a coaxing voice, “You’ve always wanted to go traveling, haven’t you? And I’m the man to take you. I’ve traveled the world all my life.”

  Grace was distraught. He’d offered her what she most wanted in life . . . But it was at the expense of his own dreams, his fragile, newborn dreams. Could she let him do that?

  “Of course I’ll marry you. I ought to refuse you. You need—”

  “I need my silken-skinned girl in whose eyes a man could happily drown. I need the woman who makes my heart pound and my blood sing. I need my beloved girl to tell my heart to, and to hold in my arms through the deep stillness of the night. The girl to gallop with in the crisp dawn air, the girl to hold in the night while outside the storms rage.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. This was more beautiful than any poem.

  He pulled her against him and held her tight. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you weep. You’re tired.” He kissed her gently.

  Outside a small bell rang. “Oh,” she said, “that’s the bell for luncheon.”

  “Go, my love. Go and dine with your family.” He smiled ruefully. He wiped her cheeks gently. “I have no business asking you anything while things are still in a mess. I will go hom—back to Wolfestone—”

  The correction was smooth, but she heard it and it cut deep. Wolfestone was no longer his home.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll straighten things out with Melly and Sir John. I’ll settle a sum on Melly; she won’t have to worry about finances. And I need to make sure the repairs I’ve started get finished, so the tenants will be dry and warm through the winter. And I’ll see the trustee, Podmore, and tell him to put the estate up for sale and to draw up the marriage settlements.”

  Grace bit her lip. He looked after everyone, this man of hers. Everyone except himself. He spoke in such a matter-of-fact way, but she knew how deeply it wrenched him. If she hadn’t pushed him into contact with the Wolfestone people, hadn’t shown him how much he belonged there . . .

  “Don’t look at me like that,” he growled, kissing her on the mouth with brief, exquisite tenderness. “I won’t be gone long.”

  “No, it wasn’t—”

  “I’ll be back before you know it. And then, Miss Grace Merridew—” He gave her a smile that was a pale shadow of the wicked smile he’d first given her, when she thought him a raggle-taggle gypsy and fell for him anyway.

  He cupped her cheek and his golden wolf eyes glowed. “And then, Miss Grace Merride
w, I’m coming after you. Wolves mate for life, you know, and I’ve found my dream, my one true love.” The kiss he gave her now was hard and possessive and she clung to him, kissing him back. She wouldn’t, couldn’t refuse him; she didn’t have the strength to resist him. She wanted him more than anything in life.

  But the knowledge of what he was giving up for her tore her up inside.

  GRACE ENTERED THE DINING ROOM SHORTLY AFTER SHE’D WATCHED Dominic leave for Wolfestone. The table was set for a celebration, she saw. “Sorry I’m late,” she said, slipping into her usual place.

  Everyone was there: Prue and Gideon, Charity and Edward, Hope and Sebastian, Faith and Nicholas, and Cassie and Dorie. Everyone was smiling at her so joyfully, Grace couldn’t bear it. “Where are the children?” she asked.

  “Upstairs in the nursery,” Charity said. “We’ll go up and see them all after luncheon.”

  “Now, enough fussin’ over the children,” Great Uncle Oswald declared, beaming at her. “I’m about to fire off the last of the Merridew Diamonds! I’ve got my best elderberry wine here and Gussie insists on offerin’ everyone champagne as well, so take your pick, young Grace—which one shall we toast your happiness in?”

  Grace looked at the elderberry wine and the champagne, and then at all the beloved faces smiling at her. She burst into tears and ran out of the room.

  “Go after her, Prue,” Aunt Gussie said, but Prudence was already gone.

  The rest of them sat looking stunned. Charity voiced what was in all their minds. “Has she refused him?”

  “I thought—I was sure she was in love with Lord D’Acre,” Faith said. Her twin nodded.

  “And I would have wagered my best team that D’Acre was head over heels in love with her, too,” Gideon added.

  By the time Prudence came back, more than an hour later, the luncheon dishes had been cleared away, virtually untouched, and only the men of the family remained in the dining room. They were drinking brandy.

  “Gussie and the gels have just popped upstairs to see how the children are behavin’ themselves,” Great Uncle Oswald informed her. “Now, don’t go runnin’ off after them yet, Prudence! What’s up with young Grace?”

  “They love each other, all right,” she reported. “And she has accepted him. But there’s a problem.” She explained the situation, which took a long time, as Great Uncle Oswald, her husband, and brothers-in-law kept interrupting her with questions. She told them everything Grace had told her: the will, the way Dominic had been brought up, how his hate for Wolfestone had slowly turned to love, and the plans for it he and Grace had made.

  At the end of her explanation, Great Uncle Oswald snorted. “Most edifyin’! Now pop up to the nursery and tell your sisters and Gussie that luncheon will be served in another half hour and fetch Grace down to join us. I’m not havin’ the gel sobbin’ her little heart out while we starve! Her whole family is here and we’ll dine together or not at all—and tell her I said that!”

  Thirty minutes later the family reconvened around the luncheon table. Grace joined them, pale and heavy-eyed.

  Great Uncle Oswald sent the butler around to fill everyone’s glasses with either elderberry wine or champagne. Great Uncle Oswald raised his glass of elderberry and said, “Well, we have a weddin’ in the family to be celebratin’, so charge your glasses—even in dratted champagne—and drink a toast: to Grace and D’Acre! And Grace—”

  Grace looked up.

  “We’ve decided on your weddin’ present!”

  Grace glanced around the table. Everyone was beaming at her. She couldn’t bear it.

  Great Uncle Oswald waved his glass at her. “Stop lookin’ so tragic! Young Sebastian saw the solution even quicker’n I did. You’ll marry the boy and we’ll buy the estate and give it to you for your weddin’ present! We’ve all agreed.”

  “You’ll buy Wolfestone?” Grace was dumbfounded. “But . . . It will cost an enormous sum.”

  “Pshaw! D’ye think we’re the kind of nip-farthin’ family who’d set a price against your happiness, you foolish gel?”

  “But Dominic could have it for nothing . . . if he married Melly Pettifer.”

  Great Uncle Oswald set down his glass with something of a snap. “Saints deliver me from young women in love! What the devil would he want Melly Pettifer for when he could have you!”

  “Besides, Mama promised us all love and laughter and sunshine and happiness, remember?” Prudence reminded her. Grace had told her upstairs what Grandpapa had said and Prudence had refuted it utterly.

  “All of us,” Charity agreed firmly. “Especially her darling baby girl.” Prue must have told her sisters, too.

  Grace could say nothing. She sat there, clutching her glass, tears rolling down her cheeks.

  Great Uncle Oswald said, “I would’ve been happy enough to buy the blasted place m’self, only the others wouldn’t have it. I’ve seen each one of you gels happy and I’ll be damned if I let the last little darlin’ sacrifice herself for a paltry bit of land!” He pulled out a large handkerchief and blew into it noisily. “So it’s settled. You’ll marry the boy and we’ll give you the estate as a weddin’ present! So charge your glasses—to Grace and D’Acre!”

  “To Grace and D’Acre!” They all drank.

  “And if you can get that wretched boy to go a bit slower on the refurbishin’ of the place, we might even get it at a bargain price.”

  “Oh my God!” Grace exclaimed in horror. Everyone looked at her. “He’s just gone down to put it on the market!”

  “Then we’ll just have to go after him and stop him, won’t we?” Gideon said calmly.

  “Who’s ‘we’?” Great Uncle Oswald demanded.

  “Whoever wants to go with Grace,” he said.

  “THAT’S THE VILLAGE!” FOR THE LAST HALF HOUR GRACE HAD traveled with her head half out of the window, craning for her first sight of Wolfestone.

  The cavalcade of Merridew traveling coaches swept through the village at a decorous pace. Grace had remembered the chickens. No Wolfestone chickens would die under her coach wheels. She saw Billy Finn outside the inn and waved happily at him.

  He ran up to the carriage, shouting. “You’re late, Lady! The wedding’s already started.”

  “What wedding?” She shouted to the driver, “Stop the coach!”

  “Miss Melly’s, o’ course! She looks a treat, she does.”

  Great Uncle Oswald thrust his head out of the window. “Where’s D’Acre?”

  “At the church, o’ course,” Billy said with withering sarcasm at such a stupid question. “Everyone’s there. All except me.” He pulled a face. “Don’t like weddings. Me mam cries.”

  “Where’s the church?” Great Uncle Oswald demanded.

  Billy pointed. Great Uncle Oswald leaned out of the window and shouted to the five coach drivers. “To the church! That way!”

  Five traveling coaches hurtled up the narrow lane and came to a halt in front of St. Stephen’s Church. Five carriage doors flew open and five men leapt down without waiting for the steps to be lowered. And without even waiting for the ladies to descend, five men stormed toward the church.

  Great Uncle Oswald, having arrived in front, led the rush. He flung open the church door with a crash. There was a bishop in his gorgeous vestments and tall mitre; there was the bride in creamy white lace. There was an enormous Turk glarin’ at him from under an enormous turban. Great Uncle Oswald blinked and checked to make sure his eyes were not deceivin’ him. No, it was a Turk all right.

  The Turk moved and Great Uncle Oswald snarled. For there, shameless as a harlot, holding the bride’s hand and looking magnificent in his finest formal wedding attire, stood Lord D’Acre.

  “Stop the weddin’,” roared Great Uncle Oswald. “Unhand that woman, D’Acre, you despicable hound!”

  If a pin had dropped at the moment it could have been heard by every single person crowded into the church.

  “I beg your pardon,” the bishop boomed in the sort of voi
ce bishops develop with practice.

  Great Uncle Oswald bellowed back at him. “So you dratted well should. Marryin’ this—this louse to this woman when he’s already betrothed to my great-niece!”

  The bride turned around and regarded him with shock.

  Great Uncle Oswald gave her a friendly nod. “Afternoon, Melly. You look lovely, m’dear.”

  The bishop turned puce. “How dare you storm into my church and fling baseless accusations around! This is my ceremony and—”

  “Baseless accusations? I’ll have you know—”

  A lanky, elegant young man stepped forward and peered at Great Uncle Oswald. “I think there’s some mistake—”

  “Don’t you start tellin’ me what’s what, young feller! What’s it got to do with you?”

  “I’m not betrothed to your great-niece. I don’t think I even know your great-niece.”

  Great Uncle Oswald stared at him. “I never said you were.”

  “I think you implied it.”

  “I did not! It’s that despicable hound who’s betrothed to my great-niece!” He pointed dramatically at Lord D’Acre.

  Every eye swiveled to Lord D’Acre. He bowed.

  “Yes, and I’ll be happy to marry her—today if you like—just as soon as I give Miss Pettifer here away in marriage to my good friend Humphrey Nettterton.” His lips twitched as he indicated the lanky young gentleman.

  “Ah,” said Great Uncle Oswald. “So you’re givin’ the bride away, eh, D’Acre?” He nodded. “Good, good, then I have no objection to the weddin’. Parson, you may continue.” He waved his gracious permission.

  “I, sir,” thundered the bishop, “am a bishop!”

  “Well, stop wastin’ time tryin’ to impress us and get on with marryin’ this couple,” Great Uncle Oswald retorted, unabashed. “And after that you can write us up a special license. My great-niece is marryin’ D’Acre there and we’ll need a special license.” He turned to Gideon, who was convulsed with silent laughter and explained, “Only use for bishops I’ve ever been able to see.”

  MELLY GLOWED. “HE LOVES ME, GRACE,” SHE DECLARED WITH SHY pride. “Loves me! And I love him.” Outside in the great hall of Wolfestone, the wedding reception was in full swing. Melly and Grace had stolen a few moments in the library to catch up.