Rose was going to be his…for all time.
Despondency had held him in thrall these past days, but now it simply melted away as his heart took flight. The loss of the Deputy Surveyor post seemed insignificant next to the joy of being with Rose. Perhaps he’d never hold a title, but love, it suddenly seemed, was much more important.
Hang it if his little sister hadn’t been right all along.
A shadow fell over them and Kit looked up to see the lovely redbrick summerhouse where he’d spoken with the king’s messenger. Had that day—Rand’s wedding—truly only been a few weeks ago? It felt like years. Everything had changed, thanks to the breathtaking young woman standing beside him.
His smile faltered when he noticed her frown. “What is it?”
Rose pursed her lips. “I fear Mum might have another reason to keep us apart.“ Her hand slipped from his to join the other in twisting the delicate bloom. “When we told her about our betrothal, there were tears in her eyes. Might she take exception to the match?”
That was so far from the truth that Kit had to clamp down on a bark of laughter. “They were happy tears, Rose.”
“You think so?”
“I know so. Besides,” he added, catching her hand again with a playful smile, “weren’t you raised to make this choice for yourself, regardless of your mother’s opinion?”
“I’m allowed to choose my own husband, but I don’t wish for Mum’s disapproval.”
“And here I thought you were determined not to choose someone she’s approved.”
“I—” Her eyes suddenly narrowed. “How did you know that? Did I tell you?”
“You must have,” he said lightly, though inside he was cursing his carelessness. Lady Trentingham had told him that. Needing to distract Rose—and fast—he pulled her into the summerhouse.
As they stepped through one of the arched entrances to the round structure, her mood shifted. Her arms slid around to draw him in closer, and he felt her warm breath on his lips. He loved that she was tall enough to kiss him without requiring him to stoop.
Her flowery, feminine scent engulfed him, and when their mouths met, she tasted like pure, perfect bliss. The contact jolted through him, leaving his whole body humming with awareness—an awareness of everything she meant to him.
Rose closed her eyes and leaned into Kit, his lips against hers feeling desperately tender. She felt it in her skin, a tight tingling…in her stomach, a melting sweetness…in her heart, an erratic rhythm that sent her senses spinning out of control.
This was right—so right she couldn’t imagine what had taken her so long to realize they belonged to each other. She should have known from the first time they’d touched, from that first amazing kiss, from the way he made her feel things no one else ever had.
“I love you,” she murmured against his lips, enjoying the feel of the words vibrating between them.
Slowly, a little reluctantly, he pulled back. He gazed into her eyes, that way he had that made her wonder if he could see right into her. She felt the answering flutter in her stomach.
“Are you happy?” he asked, his eyes glittering green and gorgeous in the fading sunlight.
“Happier than I ever dreamed.” She licked her lips.
His head tilted slightly in apparent concern, his gaze still searching hers. “Your mother is happy, too. She’s thrilled. Trust me.”
Rose nodded, feeling reassured. Reminding herself she could trust this man.
She laid her head on his chest. “A month without kissing you,” she said on a sigh.
“I know.” His fingers threaded through her hair, cradling her against him with tender possession. “How shall we survive?”
SIXTY-ONE
ROSE QUICKLY realized Kit had been right—Mum was thrilled. She often hummed to herself as she flitted about in a frenzy of preparations—penning invitation cards, considering menu options, and perusing fabric samples. One would have thought her in need of a respite after Lily’s recent nuptials, but Chrystabel Trentingham was a wedding planning wonder.
After a week without Kit, however, the bride herself was far less than thrilled. Letters simply weren’t an acceptable substitute for kisses. Irritable and restless, she saddled her horse and rode over to see her sister at Lakefield.
“It was the same with Ford and me,” Violet commiserated, setting aside a fat philosophy tome. “Those two weeks between our betrothal and wedding, we hardly caught a glimpse of each other. It was rather vexing.”
“‘Vexing’ is one way of putting it,” Rose grumbled.
“Especially since the whole time we were courting, Mum didn’t mention propriety once. She let us go off unchaperoned all the time.”
Pacing her sister’s pale turquoise drawing room, Rose was listening with half an ear. The rest of her was busy remembering the softness of Kit’s lips, the roughness of his hands, the way he liked to touch her dimples…
“Of course,” Violet went on, “Mum never suspected he was courting me. Probably because she couldn’t imagine Ford wanting me that way.”
“Violet!” Rose stopped and turned to face her.
Her sister’s eyes looked earnest behind their spectacles. “You know it was so. Mum was certain we were wrong for each other.”
“That’s right, I’d forgotten she thought Ford was too intellectual for you. Huh.” Rose frowned. “It’s not like her to be so imperceptive.”
“She must have a blind spot where her own daughters are concerned. Even more reason to be glad we avoided her matchmaking schemes.”
“I’ll say.” Rose sighed and resumed her pacing. “Kit and I used to have plenty of privacy, too—Mum even left me at his house once. Perhaps she thought us safe from impropriety because she believed I’d never fall for a commoner.”
Violet grinned. “Well, we both surprised her, didn’t we?”
AFTER TEN MORE days, Rose was a ball of restless, squirming tension. Citing concern for the bride-to-be’s mental state, Violet dragged her on a day visit to Lily’s house in Oxford. It was a journey of two
