When the trio had left, Gavin started across the room to Alex, who felt a sudden wave of nervousness. To cover it up, she said, “We seem to have a connection with libraries in the evening, don’t we?”
He paused, cocking his head, contemplating her statement. She loved that about him. He really did think about what she said. Even when it was inane. And about libraries. “Indeed, we do,” he replied finally, joining her on the chaise and taking her hands in his.
“It’s interesting, really, when you think that the library isn’t a room typically used in the evening, what with the difficulty of reading by candlelight and the high ceilings. They simply devour light usually. Not my parents’ libraries, of course, as you can see. They can also be rather drafty but, again, not these. These are—”
He kissed her, interrupting her rambling. Within moments, she had forgotten what she was saying.
“Alexandra,” he said, pulling away slightly and staring deep into her eyes. “My God, I love you.”
She dipped her head, made shy by the comment.
“I don’t know what I would have done without you today,” he said, his voice rich with emotion. “I don’t know how I would have handled my uncle and I can’t imagine how any of us would have found the information left by my father, but, most importantly, I don’t know how I would have survived the last few hours—poring over that information until I finally understood the reasons behind my father’s death—if I hadn’t known you were here, waiting for me.”
“I’m so sorry, Gavin. About everything. I’m sorry it happened to you.”
“I’m not,” he said, kissing the tip of her nose lightly.
“You aren’t?” she asked, surprised.
“I’m sorry my father was killed. I would do anything to get him back…and I imagine I shall feel that way forever. But the rest of the events…those I don’t regret. You see, they brought me to you.”
They embraced for a long moment, breathing each other in, savoring this end to such a harrowing, exhausting day. Minutes later, Blackmoor pulled back from her and asked, “Don’t you want to know what your father and I discussed?”
“No. I mean, not unless you want me to know. I understand that you might want to keep that conversation private.”
“Really? That’s very mature of you.” He leaned back on the chaise, closing his eyes, a hint of a smile playing across his lips.
“Thank you.” She folded her hands in her lap, not knowing what to say. She couldn’t ask. That wasn’t very ladylike. They sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity, until she was certain she would go mad with curiosity. “Fine! Yes! Of course, I want to know!”
Before the words had left her lips, he had started to laugh. “Nine seconds. That’s how long you could go without asking.”
She smiled. “Truly? It felt like much longer. A quarter of an hour at least.”
He laughed again, pulling her to him, letting her rest her head on his chest. She could hear his heartbeat beneath her ear, slow and steady. When he spoke, she felt the words as much as she heard them. “We talked about my being in love with you. And about my wanting to court you.”
Her heart began to pound. “And what did he say?”
“He launched into a remarkably detailed lecture regarding the proper order of events when making this kind of request. Specifically, he thought the father should be consulted before the daughter runs any risk whatsoever of being ruined.”
She winced, flushing with embarrassment at the idea that her father thought she might be ruined. She looked up at him and said, “What did you say?”
“You have beautiful eyes.”
“You told my father that he has beautiful eyes?”
He smiled. “No. You distracted me. I told your father that, while I was very grateful for the lesson, I doubted I would ever have need of it again—because I was planning to court only one woman in my lifetime.”
Her breath caught. “And what did he say?”
“Does it matter?”
“Not entirely, no.”
“You realize that if you allow me to court you, all your opposition to marriage is going to have to be reconsidered.”
She smiled, feigning innocence. “What opposition to marriage?”
“Excellent.”
“But I am thinking we should have a long courtship.”
“Why?” He looked surprised.
“Because I find I’ve developed a taste for adventure.”
“That sounds dangerous. Not at all in character for a delicate flower.”
She laughed. “We know I’ve never been good at being a delicate flower. Besides, it shan’t be too dangerous.”
“How can you be so sure?”
She smiled brilliantly at him, taking his breath away. “Because, on my next adventure, I’ll have you by my side.”
He pulled her across his lap and they kissed, the emotion of the day and the promise of the future making it soft and sweet and wonderful. She sighed as he lifted his lips off hers and offered her one of his wide, beautiful smiles. Overcome with happiness, she threw her arms around him and laughed, wondering just how it was that she had come to be so lucky.
He paused, cocking his head, contemplating her statement. She loved that about him. He really did think about what she said. Even when it was inane. And about libraries. “Indeed, we do,” he replied finally, joining her on the chaise and taking her hands in his.
“It’s interesting, really, when you think that the library isn’t a room typically used in the evening, what with the difficulty of reading by candlelight and the high ceilings. They simply devour light usually. Not my parents’ libraries, of course, as you can see. They can also be rather drafty but, again, not these. These are—”
He kissed her, interrupting her rambling. Within moments, she had forgotten what she was saying.
“Alexandra,” he said, pulling away slightly and staring deep into her eyes. “My God, I love you.”
She dipped her head, made shy by the comment.
“I don’t know what I would have done without you today,” he said, his voice rich with emotion. “I don’t know how I would have handled my uncle and I can’t imagine how any of us would have found the information left by my father, but, most importantly, I don’t know how I would have survived the last few hours—poring over that information until I finally understood the reasons behind my father’s death—if I hadn’t known you were here, waiting for me.”
“I’m so sorry, Gavin. About everything. I’m sorry it happened to you.”
“I’m not,” he said, kissing the tip of her nose lightly.
“You aren’t?” she asked, surprised.
“I’m sorry my father was killed. I would do anything to get him back…and I imagine I shall feel that way forever. But the rest of the events…those I don’t regret. You see, they brought me to you.”
They embraced for a long moment, breathing each other in, savoring this end to such a harrowing, exhausting day. Minutes later, Blackmoor pulled back from her and asked, “Don’t you want to know what your father and I discussed?”
“No. I mean, not unless you want me to know. I understand that you might want to keep that conversation private.”
“Really? That’s very mature of you.” He leaned back on the chaise, closing his eyes, a hint of a smile playing across his lips.
“Thank you.” She folded her hands in her lap, not knowing what to say. She couldn’t ask. That wasn’t very ladylike. They sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity, until she was certain she would go mad with curiosity. “Fine! Yes! Of course, I want to know!”
Before the words had left her lips, he had started to laugh. “Nine seconds. That’s how long you could go without asking.”
She smiled. “Truly? It felt like much longer. A quarter of an hour at least.”
He laughed again, pulling her to him, letting her rest her head on his chest. She could hear his heartbeat beneath her ear, slow and steady. When he spoke, she felt the words as much as she heard them. “We talked about my being in love with you. And about my wanting to court you.”
Her heart began to pound. “And what did he say?”
“He launched into a remarkably detailed lecture regarding the proper order of events when making this kind of request. Specifically, he thought the father should be consulted before the daughter runs any risk whatsoever of being ruined.”
She winced, flushing with embarrassment at the idea that her father thought she might be ruined. She looked up at him and said, “What did you say?”
“You have beautiful eyes.”
“You told my father that he has beautiful eyes?”
He smiled. “No. You distracted me. I told your father that, while I was very grateful for the lesson, I doubted I would ever have need of it again—because I was planning to court only one woman in my lifetime.”
Her breath caught. “And what did he say?”
“Does it matter?”
“Not entirely, no.”
“You realize that if you allow me to court you, all your opposition to marriage is going to have to be reconsidered.”
She smiled, feigning innocence. “What opposition to marriage?”
“Excellent.”
“But I am thinking we should have a long courtship.”
“Why?” He looked surprised.
“Because I find I’ve developed a taste for adventure.”
“That sounds dangerous. Not at all in character for a delicate flower.”
She laughed. “We know I’ve never been good at being a delicate flower. Besides, it shan’t be too dangerous.”
“How can you be so sure?”
She smiled brilliantly at him, taking his breath away. “Because, on my next adventure, I’ll have you by my side.”
He pulled her across his lap and they kissed, the emotion of the day and the promise of the future making it soft and sweet and wonderful. She sighed as he lifted his lips off hers and offered her one of his wide, beautiful smiles. Overcome with happiness, she threw her arms around him and laughed, wondering just how it was that she had come to be so lucky.
