The promise of a lifetime of adoration hung in the air between them. The answer flew from Selina’s lips before he found the words to express it.
After so long saying no, it was surprisingly easy to say yes.
Malcolm leaned into the soft back of the armchair, stretching out his legs one by one, and taking a great deal of care not to disturb the heavenly being nestled in his lap while he did.
Five miles was hardly the distance from Marathon to Athens, nor even from London to Twynham, but on wet roads in soft boots it had been a considerable effort. Judging by the sun – his pocket watch having fallen out somewhere along the way – he’d made it in decent time, too. There was something of the young sportsman in him yet.
That same sun was now sinking ever lower in the sky, the light in the room fading from golden to merely dim. He couldn’t bear to move just yet. It was more than a man could ask of himself, passing up the chance to see Selina in the moonlight.
And yet…
He stroked the back of a finger gently down her cheek. “Either that valet is taking a great deal of time about his task, or your clever sister has managed to waylay him.”
Selina graced him with another of those smiles that sent tendrils of heat into places he had never imagined could be warm. “I’m touched as ever by your concern for my reputation.”
He forced himself to stir, adjusting the alluringly rumpled neckline of her dress into an altogether less tempting position, and gathering those of her hairpins that had fallen within easy reach. “Even Lady Streatham’s ingenuity has limits. I hate to say it, but you must go before they notice you’re missing.”
“Malcolm.” She was half-reproachful, half-yearning, and her hair was half-tumbled across her face, and since Malcolm had never been much use at resisting temptation, he kissed her again.
There was a sweetness about her that he was only just learning to taste. Dizzying, to think that he could relish it for the rest of his life.
“You must go,” he said, groaning the words against the soft skin of her neck. “Because the more liberties I take, the more I want, and I’ve enough sins to my name already.”
“I’m sure any gossip about my extended absence will be forgotten when we simply announce that we are engaged.”
He paused his exploration of her exquisite pale skin. “Now? Tonight?”
The prospect was tempting. Hell, everything about Selina was tempting. He imagined himself leading her downstairs on his arm. The shocked gasps from the room of small-town gentlemen. The news reaching London before he did, in a rented carriage with Selina sitting in his lap just as she was now. Hours of journey to while away together, perfectly alone.
“Out of the question.”
She said nothing, but a crinkle of hurt appeared between her brows. He kissed it.
“I cannot possibly announce our engagement until I have spoken to your brother.”
“Alex?” Selina let out a rippling laugh. She put her arms around Malcolm’s neck, her fingers toying deliciously with his hair. “You know he would never dare object. He knows better than to disagree with me. And I am quite set on you, you know.”
“All the same. It’s the proper thing to do. And this, of all things, ought to be done properly. Besides, I want the man to like me.”
“I’m sure he does already.”
“Very kind of you to say, but unfortunately, susceptibility to my dazzling smile is not a Balfour family trait. I have some work to do to earn your brother’s respect.”
“You will have it when he sees that I love you.” She let him go, with a soft sigh of regret that tugged at something vital deep in his chest. “You are right. I will go downstairs and behave as though nothing has happened. Though Anthea will guess, I suspect.”
“Tell her, by all means. There’s no need to deprive your sister of an extra day’s joy.” He made a face. “Assuming that joy is what she will feel when she knows you’ve chosen to throw your lot in with me.”
Selina rose to her feet, moving with the natural dancer’s grace that could catch the eye across a crowded ballroom. She went to the mirror and twisted a lock of hair between her fingers, stopping to shoot him a reproving glance. “Malcolm. When will you begin to value yourself as I do?”
“I don’t know. You could try kissing me more often. That might help.”
She turned back to the mirror, smiling, and pinned up the twisted curls. She made it look so easy. He remembered his own efforts in the Whitby family’s library, how the shining dark hair had rebelled under his fingers.
He thought of Selina as a young girl, recently motherless, combing her sisters’ golden hair to soothe them when no lady’s maid would do. She must always have possessed that exceptional talent of making wounded hearts whole again, of lifting others with her love.
Could such a skill be learned? He hoped so. Selina deserved to have every good part of herself reflected back to her. And if her chosen mirror was tarnished at present, it could be polished up in time.
He bent to pick up the last of the hairpins and stood behind her, his hands finding her narrow waist as she finished her hair.
She met his eyes in the mirror. “I suppose this is as good a time as any to broach the subject…”
He smiled, and gave her a gentle squeeze, encouraging her to continue. “Is something amiss?”
“I want to be clear about one thing before we go any further.” She set her shoulders, her eyes bright in the mirror. Her waist tensed under his hands. “I once loved another, as you know. And I was young, and not as careful as I should have been.”
He pulled her close against him. “I hope you will treasure that memory. As I treasure
