“I tried to,” he said with a wry grin. “She told me you already had.” His gaze softened. “However was I lucky enough to win a woman as special as you?”
Rose’s throat tightened. No one had ever called her special. “I should have known you would do the right thing.” She’d known he was a good man—that was why she’d decided to marry him.
He kissed her again, more gently this time, a tender kiss that made tears well in her eyes. No matter what he said, she knew she was the lucky one—lucky he hadn’t given up when she’d pushed him away for all the wrong reasons.
But if he had given up, he wouldn’t have been Kit.
“No crying on your wedding day,” he said, wiping a rogue tear off her cheek with a warm thumb. “I’m sure that’s worse luck than having me see you before the ceremony.”
She managed a watery chuckle.
His hands went to finish attaching her stomacher. “You look beautiful.”
“You look better,” she said, her pulse thumping madly under his fingers. He wore a deep green velvet suit with silver braid trim on the long waistcoat and the surcoat that went over it. Just enough lace fell from beneath his cuffs, and a tasteful diamond pin winked from the folds of his cravat.
Perfect. If she’d noticed how he was dressed when he first appeared in her doorway, she would have spared herself a few anguished seconds of worry. No one would take him for anything but a groom.
A heart-stoppingly handsome one.
His fingers traced the pearl scrollwork on her stomacher. “I have something for you.” He pulled a small wooden box from his pocket. “I wasn’t sure what color you’d be wearing, but I think they will match.”
She opened the lid to find an exquisite pair of earrings, two teardrop pearls swinging from clustered diamond tops. “They must have cost a fortune,” she gasped. She’d never seen such enormous pearls.
He smiled as he took them from the box and moved closer to fasten them on her ears. “I may not be titled, but I’m hardly a pauper.”
“I’m not wearing any earrings. I didn’t have any I wanted to wear.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” he said, kissing a bare lobe before he decorated it. “I don’t ever want to see you wearing that damned duke’s jewels again. In fact, I think you should pawn them. Permanently. I just happen to know of a pawnshop.”
She laughed as he attached the second earring. When he was finished, he drew her close, running his hands over her back and down to her bottom. She ached where he brought their bodies together.
“I love you,” he said.
She’d never tire of hearing those three words. “I love you, too.”
“I love you in red.”
“I’m glad.” His scent was making her dizzy. “My sisters both wore blue.”
“I’d love to see you in blue, too.” He nibbled her neck. “I’d love to see you in purple,” he said conversationally. “I’d love to see you in green. I’d love to see you in a rich, metallic gold.”
Each word against her skin made delicious shivers whisper through her. She sighed, tilting her head to give him better access.
His lips settled in the sensitive hollow of her throat. “But mostly,” he whispered devilishly, “I’d love to see you naked.”
If her sisters hadn’t knocked on the door then, he might have.
SEVENTY-ONE
STANDING AT THE front of her family’s small, crowded chapel, Rose shifted on her high-heeled shoes and slipped her hand into Kit’s.
“Christopher Martyn, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
“I will.” The confident words boomed through the magnificent oak-paneled chamber, binding Kit to Rose.
But Rose wasn’t listening to the ceremony. Instead she was thinking that Kit was the most handsome, intelligent, loving man she’d ever known, not to mention moral to a fault. She was so glad he’d managed to burst her foolish bubble and make her realize what really counted.
Love, clear and true.
Happy tears brightened her mother’s brown eyes. Rose knew Mum thought Kit was perfect for her—she even suspected she’d had a hand in getting them together. There were too many times she’d left them alone early on, too many times she’d decided to follow the court when Kit just happened to be working at a particular castle or palace.
But Rose didn’t care.
Her gaze wandered over the assembled guests, landing on Lily. Her younger sister stood next to Rand, her rich sable hair cascading to her shoulders in glossy ringlets, her lips curved in a way that made Rose think she’d just shared her secret. Beside her, Rand beamed a smile, looking like he wanted to shout to the world that he was going to be a father.
The two were so clearly in love, Rose knew they belonged together—and she was thrilled for her sister. She was so glad Lily had ended up with Rand, leaving her to find Kit.
The priest cleared his throat and looked back down at his Book of Common Prayer. “Lady Rose Ashcroft, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband…”
Standing on Lily’s right, their older sister Violet shifted one of her twin babies on her hip, gazing up at Ford. Sun streamed through the stained glass windows, glinting off her spectacles as she whispered something in his ear.
Holding their other infant, Ford squeezed his wife around the shoulders. Seated cross-legged at their feet, their three-year-old son Nicky traced a finger over the patterns in the colorful glazed tile floor, obliviously happy.
Rose couldn’t wait to have a family of her own. She flashed a quick smile at Ellen where she stood beside Thomas, one hand in his and the other resting lightly on her middle. The niece
