Elegant slippers and a royal blue hemline came into her lowered view. Blythe raised her head and found the dowager duchess studying her.
A small smile played on her lips. “You will do nicely.” Without another word, she sashayed past.
The guests milled about around them, sharing the gossip in excited twitters. Blythe could not look at Michael, uncertain and scared of what she would see in his eyes.
Instead, she focused on Keenan.
He gave her a broad grin. “I believe I shall direct people out.” He moved into the fray.
“Traitor,” she muttered. She smiled at Bethie, who beamed back with happiness shining in her eyes.
“You are very proud of yourself, aren’t you?” Blythe teased. How she loved this little mischief maker.
Bethie nodded. “I got my Mama. Papa always said to go after what I wanted.” She looked at Michael. “When are we getting married, Papa?”
Blythe’s breath caught in her throat. She assumed, she’d hoped, but she hadn’t dared believe…
Michael’s deep voice intruded. “Poppet, would you mind giving your Mama and me just a little bit of time alone? Wait outside?”
Bethie nodded. As she turned to leave, she launched herself at Blythe. “I love you, Mama.”
Tears of joy filled Blythe’s eyes. “I love you, too, Elisabeth.”
With a happy hum, Bethie skipped over to Keenan.
Blythe looked down at her hands.
“Alone at last,” Michael said softly.
Blythe looked around them. “We’re in a room full of people.”
“I don’t see anyone.” He paused. “Blythe, look at me.”
She raised her gaze upward until his eyes met hers with a heat that shot right to her insides.
“Thank you.”
She puffed out a breath of air. “For causing you more scandal to live down?”
“No one has ever done what you did for me.” The tenderness in his voice struck at her heart. “You loved me enough to fight.” A twinkle came into his eyes. “Nice right hand, by the way.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Just like a man to focus on that.”
“My focus is elsewhere, thank you kindly.”
Blythe took an involuntary step backward from the gleam in his eye. “What are you doing?”
He took two steps toward her.
Shivers ran down her arms. “Michael?”
“I am going to kiss you. Soundly. Completely. And right now.”
“Now?” She laughed nervously. “Haven’t we given them enough to gossip about?”
“I don’t give a fig.” He stopped just in front of her. “You asked earlier if the wedding was still on.”
Blythe nodded, unable to speak for the lump in her throat.
He lifted a hand to her chin and tilted it. “I can’t answer that.”
Her brows drew together. “Why not?”
He reached up and ever so lightly, placed his hands on her cheeks. “Because, my love, you are the only one who can say yes.”
Love, joy and a million other sensations filled her heart so full, she thought her chest would burst open. “I thought you’d never ask.”
They melted into each other, and Michael’s lips descended on hers. Warmth suffused her, as his arms snaked about her waist to pull her in tight.
She reveled in the feel of his strength and love surrounding her, of his lips on her own. With a tiny nip of her lower lip, he finally released her.
A silly grin on her face, she looked at the shocked expressions of the remaining guests milling about and sighed. “You aren’t the tiniest bit concerned about the gossip?”
Michael winked. “I am starting my own scandal.”
She arched an eyebrow. “You will not be kissing anyone but me, Your Grace.”
“Ah, but that’s the beauty of the new Ravensdale scandal.” He pressed a kiss to her nose. “Mine won’t be about—” he stopped and kissed her left cheek, “—who I kiss.”
He squished his lips against her other cheek with a loud smack, and Blythe laughed.
“But rather how often and where—” He bent and placed a sweet, slow kiss on the pulse spot in her neck. “—I kiss my wife.”
Heat burst inside of her. “I think I could go along with that.”
And she did.
Willoughby 01 - Something About Her Page 27
