They kissed until her toes curled, all thought fled except the sensation of melding her breath with his, one of his hands sliding down her body and holding her close to him, one thumb stroking her neck.
A gull screeched as it dipped and wheeled past the window, breaking the moment.
She patted his chest with both hands, trying to dredge up enough willpower to push him away, and heard the sounds of crinkling paper within his coat.
“My lord, this is most unseemly.Someone could enter at any moment.”She couldn’t help licking her own lips as she tried to lean back, reluctant to end the moment.
“Vincent,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.“I want to hear you say my name.”
She caught a handful of his long, silky black hair and twined it with her fingers, remembering how he’d reacted the first time she’d said his name in the drawing room.She’d been addressing his brother, but from the corner of her eye had not missed his visceral reaction.“Vincenzo,” she replied.
His pupils flared along with his sharp intake of breath.
She kept one hand playing with his hair, enjoying this last opportunity to touch him so intimately, still trying to summon the willpower to push against his chest, to push him away.Again she heard the crinkling of paper from inside his coat.“We need to stop.”
“On the contrary,cara mia,” he whispered.“We’ve not yet begun.”
Just as she realized this was the second time in less than an hour that he’d called hermy dearinstead of justdear, he grasped her under her arms, lifted her and carried her as though she weighed no more than a doll, her feet dangling well above the floor, and gently set her on the desk.
She barely had time to register his scandalous act of spreading her knees far enough apart so he could stand between her legs, his thighs right up against the edge of the desk, when he withdrew a folded piece of parchment from his inner coat pocket.
“This is a special license,” he said, his deep voice vibrating her bones despite the quiet volume.
She gulped, struggling to retain her composure at him remaining so close.With her sitting atop the desk, he didn’t have to stoop, and she didn’t have to stretch for them to be at eye level with one another.“Of course.To have their wedding on the beach instead of in a church, naturally Mildred and Lord Wingfield need a special license.”
Fairfax shook his head.“Matthew has his own license.”
“I … I don’t understand.”Struggling to draw breath, Sophia raised her gaze from the parchment to Fairfax’s face.
No one had ever looked at her this way.Adoration mixed with humor and a hint of something else, something unfamiliar.An expression she’d never before seen on him.
Trepidation.
There was only one thing she could think of that would make this man, this viscount and future marquess, feel trepidation.And look at her with adoration.And call hercaramiawith emphasis on the “my” part, while possessing a special marriage license.
She held one hand to her chest, her heart beating so loudly, surely he could hear it, scarcely daring to hope she had correctly interpreted his intention.“Vincenzo?”She reached out her free hand, resting it on his chest.Above his bottle green velvet waistcoat, below his neckcloth, only one thin layer of fine white lawn separating her bare hand from his chest … where she felt his heart pounding madly.
He put his hand—his big, muscular hand—on top of hers, trapping it against his heartbeat, and gestured with the parchment in his other hand.“Marry me,cara mia,” he whispered.He cleared his throat.His voice was raspy with emotion when he continued, his bass even deeper, more rumbly, than usual.“Marry me, and we can travel together.Paris.Vienna.Naples.I’ll make certain our home by the sea is stocked with the finest pianofortes and any other instruments you want, and all the pencils and paper and ink for composing you could wish for.”
He seemed to hold his breath, while Sophia had trouble drawing in air.
“That’s not the usual way of things,” she finally managed.“That was presumptuous of you, procuring the license before confirming that your bride-to-be consented.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.“And … does the bride consent?”
She traced his forehead with her fingertips, where she’d bound his wound with her fichu.Down along his jaw, a hint of stubble prickling her fingers.Caressed his full bottom lip with the pad of her thumb.All the while he held perfectly still, only his rapid heart rate giving away his turbulent emotions, his eyes focused intently on hers.
“All I wish for,” she whispered, tugging the knot free on his neckcloth so she could caress the bare skin at the vee of his neck, “is you.”
With a groan, he captured her mouth in another kiss.
Without conscious thought, Sophia tightened her knees against Vincent’s thighs, then wrapped her calves around the back of his legs.She couldn’t get close enough to him.He gave a guttural sound of approval.
She wasn’t sure how long the kiss went on, and came back to her surroundings only because she heard the hall door open.
“Oh, there you are,” Mrs.Digby said.“Wondered where you two—.Oh, my.”
Vincent kept kissing Sophia, though he let go with one hand long enough to flutter the license in his aunt’s direction and set it on the desk.
