“He likes your parents.” His shrug encompassed all the bafflement she knew he felt at his father’s recent behavior. Beatrix appeared and padded at their heels as Rand entered the corridor that led to his room. But instead of turning left, he walked straight ahead into Alban’s bedchamber.
Only it wasn’t Alban’s bedchamber anymore. It wasn’t a bedchamber at all.
She stared. “What happened?”
“You’ll be living here the week after next. I told my father we needed more room. He didn’t argue, so I sent a message to Kit. The day after that, a crew of men showed up to begin the remodel. They’ll resume tomorrow, once all the wedding guests go home.”
The dark paneling had been stripped and was half refinished in a warm, honey tone that lightened the whole chamber. The door to the secret space stood open, and she could see it had been emptied. The rest of the room was empty, too.
“Even the bed is gone,” she said.
“This will be our sitting room.” The drapes had been removed, and soft summer rain blew against the naked windows. Taking her hand, Rand drew her into Alban’s old sitting room, now dominated by a huge four-poster bed draped in yellow silk. “I had it brought from another chamber. Just until you choose a new one. Something without a history. I thought we could go to London, and—”
“Thank you,” she whispered past a sudden lump in her throat. She knew Rand didn’t care whether he slept in the same room that Alban had, or even in the same bed. He’d done this for her. “Where are Alban’s things?”
“I had them sent to a foundling home. Every last item. I asked Father, and he didn’t say yes, but he didn’t say no, either. I think he wants to forget that Alban ever existed. He even had his portrait removed from the long gallery.”
In an effort to steady herself, she took a sip of champagne. “Did he send that to the foundling home, too?”
“No.” Again, that baffled shrug. “He burned it.”
“Maybe he’ll have one painted of you to replace it.”
“I wouldn’t go so far as to assume that.” He gave a strangled laugh. “But I’m not dreading living here half the year quite as much as I thought I would.”
Beatrix followed them back through the sitting room and into Alban’s old dressing room, and it was empty, too. The clothes presses were gone, the walls stripped and waiting to be finished. “Kit is arranging for someone to build cabinets.” Rand took the goblet from Lily’s hand. “Newfangled ones with drawers.”
She turned to him. “It all sounds wonderful. I love you.”
“And I love you.” A smile lit his eyes as he sipped, regarding her over the rim. Without swallowing, he bent and put his mouth to hers, giving her a sweet, cold, sparkly kiss as he shared the bubbly beverage.
She swallowed and laughed. “Eleven more days and we’ll be together for good.”
“Too long.” He took another sip and gave her another effervescent kiss, the champagne still fizzing in her mouth when he pulled back to skim his knuckles along her cheek. “You’re not going to make me wait that long, are you?”
She remembered, vaguely, that she’d decided they really should wait. But the kiss had made her light-headed, and her skin tingled wherever he touched, so she couldn’t remember why.
When Beatrix began hiccuping, Lily leaned to pick her up, cradling the cat in her arms. Protection from Rand and her own weakening resolve. She mustered a teasing smile. “Did you bring me in here to show me the renovations or to get me into that big yellow bed?”
“Both,” he answered with a grin. He took another sip and leaned over Beatrix, meeting Lily’s lips once again. The bubbles tickled her throat as Rand tickled her senses.
The idea of making love right now was absurd, but she sighed longingly as she licked the remnants of champagne off her lips. Delicious. Rand’s kisses were delicious.
“Not here, during the wedding.”
“Here. Now.” He didn’t look at all concerned with propriety. “The wedding is over.”
“But not the wedding supper. There are guests in the house,” she reminded him, the protest faint to her own ears.
“We’re in here. The guests are out there.” His voice was husky and low, filled with the pent-up frustration of desire unfulfilled. “Eleven more days, Lily…and all the days before now…”
His words made heat shimmer through her. What he was proposing was surely wicked, here at a wedding.
Wickedly tempting.
And a weakness in Lily’s knees told her she was all too close to surrendering.
It had been so long. So many days of yearning need…so many nights living with that low-burning heat…lying chastely with him here at Hawkridge and then alone in her bed at Trentingham…
When she swayed toward him involuntarily, he laughed and swung her up into his arms.
“Rand!” she squealed, barely holding on to the cat. “We cannot!”
“Oh, I think we can,” he said, striding into the sitting room.
Beatrix leapt to the floor as Rand kicked the door shut and set Lily on her feet. “See?” He threw the bolt. “There are no guests in here.”
He was impossible. And irresistible. His mouth covered hers, and despite her misgivings, her arms wound around his neck. Now-familiar feelings began coursing through her, building a heat centered low in her middle. She pressed herself close, wishing desperately that she and Rand weren’t wearing so many clothes.
A small sound of satisfaction rose from his throat. “I knew I could wear you down.”
“A kiss,” she said with mock indignation. “I’ve only assented to a kiss.”
Beatrix hiccuped louder, rubbing against Lily’s skirts.
“A kiss, hmm?” Rand started easing her into the bedchamber, working the tabs on her stomacher as he went, and she couldn’t find it in herself to protest. Her legs felt shaky, and when the backs of them hit the high, silk-draped mattress, she reclined onto it with a sigh, using her arms locked behind Rand to
