“Of course it’s not easy.” Rose plucked three browning leaves off some flowers on the wide windowsill. “But surely not your entire life. If it all ends badly, you’ll go on—”
“You’ve never been in love,” Lily said.
The leaves crunched in her sister’s fisted hand. “No,” she admitted, “I haven’t. And given what you’re going through, I believe that’s just as well.”
“You’re wrong.” Lily’s voice came a whisper. “I wouldn’t trade love for tranquility.”
“Some of us,” Rose said, “don’t seem to have a choice.”
“Oh, Rose.” Lily’s eyes met her sister’s dark ones. “Someday…”
You’ll find someone.
The words hung between them, unsaid, until Rose looked away and out the window. “Someone’s riding up the road, Lily.”
“Rand!” Lily jumped up and brushed at her sky blue skirts.
Rose frowned. “No, two someones. I wonder who they could be?”
“Two?” Lily pulled a few curls forward to frame her face. “How do I look?”
“He’s not going to care,” said the sister that took the most care with her own appearance. “Go to him, Lily.”
As she hurried to the entry hall, Lily wondered if one of the riders was indeed Rand. After all, there were two, and he’d set out for Hawkridge Hall alone. As Parkinson opened the door, she braced herself for disappointment.
Rand stood on the other side, a wide smile on his face. Her heart leapt—until she looked beyond him.
“Lord Hawkridge. How, um, how very nice to see you.”
“Lady Lily.” Rand’s father bowed, for once looking at a loss for words.
“Rand,” her mother said warmly, glossing over the awkward moment as she appeared from seemingly nowhere. “Come in, please. And you,” she said to Lord Hawkridge, “must be this young man’s father. The resemblance is unmistakable.”
Rand didn’t look particularly pleased at that observation. Lily stared at him, caught in his compelling gray gaze, wondering…
“And you must be Lady Trentingham. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance,” the marquess told her mother. “I’ve come to welcome your daughter into my family.”
It took a moment for Lily to register those words, and when she did, she was embarrassed to feel tears spring to her eyes.
“Rand,” she whispered.
His gaze flicked over to his father, then her mother, and finally Rose standing at the bottom of Trentingham’s wide staircase. He stepped forward to take Lily’s hand.
“Come,” he said, “I feel a need to take a run.” He glanced at her fashionable heeled shoes. “I mean a walk.”
That old, rude habit, but Lily didn’t care, so long as he wanted her with him this time. Her mother and the marquess would do fine—Rand’s father might be on the curmudgeonly side, but Chrystabel had never met a man she couldn’t wrap around her finger.
Without saying a word, Rand hurried her through the house, out the back into the gardens, and along the paths to the summerhouse. He dropped her hand long enough to shut the door behind them, enclosing them in the cool dimness of the small, round brick building. Then he turned and gathered her into his arms.
“Rand, how did you convince—”
“Hush,” he said as his mouth crushed down on hers.
She was hushed, very effectively, by a kiss so intense it rattled her to her toes. His lips slanted over hers again and again until she couldn’t tell where his mouth stopped and hers started, until her knees were so weak she needed his arms to hold her up.
“When can we marry?” he asked, dropping little kisses on her nose, her cheeks, her chin. His mouth trailed down the side of her throat. “When? Today?”
“No.” She laughed, arching her neck to allow him better access. He felt so very good—especially knowing that finally, miraculously, he was going to be hers.
“Tomorrow?” he asked, his lips dancing over her skin.
“Not tomorrow.”
“The next day, then. Or the day after that. Saturday. A perfect day for a wedding.”
“No.” She shivered, and not only from his sensual assault. “You and Margery were supposed to marry on Saturday.”
“Her birthday. The day she’ll wed Bennett.” He worked his way back toward her mouth.
“Oh,” she breathed, “they must be so happy.”
“Mmm.” His agreement was muffled by his lips claiming hers, his tongue meeting hers in a heady swirl of sensation. He tasted divine. “Margery will want us at her wedding,” he murmured against her mouth. “So ours will have to be the day after that.”
“No.” Pulling back, she laughed again. “Two weeks. When Violet and Ford wished to marry in a rush, Mum insisted on two weeks to plan the wedding.”
“Two weeks?” he said on a groan. “After all we’ve gone through, two more weeks seems a lifetime.”
She smiled softly, basking in those heartfelt words. “Two weeks is entirely survivable.”
“As long as we don’t have to wait for the wedding night,” he said, his fingers moving to the tabs on her stomacher.
His eyes smoldered, and something inside her responded to that heat. But something else held her back. She reached to still his hands. “Rand.”
“Hmm?” He kissed her again, nearly melting her resolve.
But she’d thought about this. “I want to wait. Until we’re married. Until you’re mine, heart, body, and soul, and no one can threaten otherwise.”
The heat in his eyes transformed to disbelief. “Nothing can threaten us, Lily. Nothing. We’ve been to hell and back again, and there is nothing I will allow to come between us.”
Under the force of his gaze, she was weakening. She’d already given herself to this man, and she hadn’t been sorry, and more than anything, she burned to share that again.
But it was hard to believe that all would be well. There had been too many hours and days when she’d thought he was lost to her.
“Nothing,” he repeated, and the earnestness in his voice went a long way toward breaking her will. “Fate may send us dragons, but I’ll slay them for you, fair Lily. Nothing will steal you from my side.”
Watching her closely, he pulled something from his pocket.
His mother’s pendant,
