Authors: Samantha Holt
“No,” she said when the fit
had subsided. “I wanted to stop the fire, but I wanted to find you. To say...I
love you.”
The hand on her cheek
stilled of its own accord and he stared at her. Had the fire sent her
delirious? Had it sent
him
delirious? Had he misheard?
“Pardon?”
“Love you,” she whispered.
It was wholly inappropriate
given the situation but a smile worked its way across his face.
“Do not laugh at me.”
His grin expanded at the
surprising strength to the words. “I would not dare.”
“I know I have ruined
everything and—”
“Ellie, do be quiet,” he
said none too gently. “I love you too, you foolish woman.”
Her lids fluttered several
times and a crease came between her brows.
“Devil take it, any other
woman would be happy to hear such a declaration. Perhaps my words were not
flowery enough.” He pressed a finger to his lips. “How about this? Eleanor, you
are the light of my life, my reason for living. I was but a grizzled,
cantankerous old viscount before you and likely a great big fool too, but you
have brought light into my world. With you, I am a better man. Not perfect, I
shall give you that, but certainly one hundred times better. If you love me and
I love you, I can think of no reason not to marry, and I shall not take ‘I will
think about it’ as an answer this time.”
Those perfect lips—even if
covered in grime—parted and she gazed up at him.
“Do I need to say more?
Spout words of your beauty perhaps, though I must tell you, Ellie, you are a
damned mess right now.”
Ellie laughed and it turned
into a cough. He patted her back, easing her closer to him. Her warmth seeped
through his muscles and the feel of her soft body against his eased some of the
apprehensive ache in his chest.
“You always did have a way
with words, Lucian.”
He scowled. “Do not try to
change the subject.”
“Considering you are meant
to be charming, you’re terrible at marriage proposals.”
“Well, I have not had much
practice,” he grumbled. “Ellie, I did not take you for a tease.”
“Forgive me, Lucian. I have suffered
much of your teasing and it is only fair to repay you.”
“Even after I rescued you
from a burning building?”
“Yes, I suppose you have
more than made up for you behaviour.”
He clenched his jaw and
found his fear had been replaced with a very strong urge to throttle the woman.
Was this what it would be like, their marriage? She forever leading him on a
merry dance? Probably. And there was little to be done about it. He had to have
her and if she decided to torment him for the rest of his life, he would let
her.
“Poor Lucian.” She reached
up and pressed her palm to his cheek. “What sort of fool would I be to say no?
I am only sorry I did not say yes sooner but I was so scared. I didn’t want to
make the wrong decision. Now I see you could never be a wrong decision.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Do you need flowery words
also?”
“I just need a blasted yes,”
he said through gritted teeth.
“Then yes. Yes, I’ll marry
you. Yes, I’ll love you forever.”
Lucian battled the desire to
let out a string of curses at her for keeping him waiting for so long, but pure
happiness quashed the words and instead he found himself burying his head in
her curls.
“You will not regret it, I
swear. I shall do all I can to make you happy, Ellie.”
“I know,” she said as she
lifted her head to his. “You can be my happily ever after.”
A laugh escaped him at the
romantic notion, but he had to admit, he was feeling one or two distinctly
fluffy notions and he nodded. “And you can be mine,” he murmured as he lowered
his lips to hers.
What’s Wrong with Gretna Green?
“Thank the Lord that’s over,” Lucian said as he slid into
the carriage next to Eleanor.
“I do not think you’re meant
to be glad your wedding is over.”
He grinned, looking as
handsome as ever in his perfectly fitted suit and elegant dark green waistcoat.
Lucian took her gloved hand, peeled off the fabric and slid his fingers between
hers before bringing her hand to his lips.
“Do not tell me you are not
grateful it is all over.”
She couldn’t help but laugh.
“Very well, yes I am. I didn’t trip and I did not say the wrong words, or
sneeze into my flowers, but I feared greatly I would.”
“You were perfect, wife.” He
emphasised the words.
“As were you, husband.”
“But I still would have
preferred to go to Gretna Green and avoided all this fuss.” He waved a hand to
the array of people waiting outside their carriage to see them off.
“Mama would have killed me
for certain.”
“Come wave to your adoring
crowd and then we can make for the hotel. It’s been a busy few months and I am desperate
to remove that rather fine gown from you and make you my wife properly.”
“We have already made love,”
she whispered, as though one of the cheering crowd might hear her. “I’m not
sure we need to do it again to make it formal.”
“Nonsense. I need to make
you my wife in every way possible and that means keeping you up all night.”
His voice rose with the last
few words and, though she doubted anyone heard, she knew he was teasing her and
heat spilled into her cheeks. She slapped his arm. It had been a long few
months trying to get the mill repaired and everything up and running again. Not
to mention tracking down the culprit.
Leaning across him, she saw
her mama and papa waving and she waved back. Even Papa seemed to have tears in
his eyes. As the carriage began to move, she settled back against the plush
interior. She glanced at their joined hands and let herself relax. With Lucian
at her side, she never had a need to be nervous again. If she proved to be the
clumsiest, most ungainly wife of all time, he would still love her.
“It’s a shame we can
only be gone a few days,” she said.
They had to return soon for
Mr Newcombe’s trial. He had been billing them with inflated figures and had
hired men to sabotage the mill. All because he wished to set up his own mills
and was looking to buy up the local mills at cheap prices. What they had not
known was that he had already done the same to two other mills in Lancashire,
forcing them to close and be sold off at a discounted price.
Also Lucian wanted to oversee
the final stages of the build. With a little help from his main investor—namely
her—they had managed to save the mill and the jobs of the people in it. She
could not wait for them to see their modernised mill with better working
conditions and safer machines. She could not object too much at his eagerness
to return. She had come to love the mill as much as he.
“Pardon?” She found him
staring avidly at her. “Forgive me, I was admiring my beautiful wife.”
“I said it is a shame we
only have a few days.”
“A few days is all I need.”
She glanced at his wicked
smile. “You are a rogue and a rake, Lord Rushbourne.”
“Ah, yes, but I am your
rake.”
Eleanor laughed and took his
face in both her hands so she could slide onto his lap and straddle him. “You
are indeed,” she confirmed and proceeded to kiss him in a manner that only a
very wicked woman would. He groaned and cupped her rear to press her against
him.
“Even the worst of rakes do
not bed women in their carriages,” he informed her between kisses.
“Yes, but you are not the
worst, you are the best.”
“How very true that is,” he
agreed.
And he proceeded to show her
just how good a rake he really was.
THE
END
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titles by Samantha Holt
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Medieval
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Dream of a Highlander (Book 2 of the Highland Fae Chronicles)
To Avenge Her
Highland Warrior (Book 3 of the Highland Fae Chronicles)
Contemporary