She shook her head as she confessed, "I want it so much, I'm afraid to hope."
"Never be afraid to hope," Rohan said gently. "It's the only way to begin."
Rohan, one of us is an unmarried man with superior mathematical abilities and no prospects for the evening. The other is a confirmed lecher in an amorous mood, with a willing and nubile young wife waiting at home. Who do you think should do the damned account books?" And, with a nonchalant wave, St. Vincent had left the office.
...whether he stayed or left, whether they walked the same path or not. They could live on opposite sides of the world, and she would still be his.
"The Rom believe you should take the road that calls to you, and never turn back. Because you never know what adventures await. ...So we're going to take this road," he murmured, "and see where it leads.
I think in a moment of weakness, you might surprise yourself.
And then another letter had come from Christopher, so devastating that Amelia wondered how mere scratches of ink on paper could rip someone's soul to shreds. She had wondered how she could feel so much pain and still survive.
But the absence of tears wasn't the same as an absence of feeling.
"I'm not the marrying kind."
St. Vincent snorted. "No man is. Marriage is a female invention."
The question, love, is whether you want me enough to take the risk.
A slow smile had curved St. Vincent's lips. 'Wives are a different case altogether. They require a great deal of effort but the rewards are substantial. I highly recommend wives. Especially one's own."
"You are an interesting woman Amelia."
Gooseflesh rose wherever his breath touched. "I can't f-fathom why you would think so."
His playful mouth traced the wing of her brow. "I find you thoroughly, deeply interesting. I want to open you like a book and read every page." A smile curved the corners of his lips as he added huskily, "Footnotes included."
Cam held her closer. "Marry me, Amelia. You're what I want. You're my fate."
One hand slid to the back of her head, gripping the braids and ribbons to keep her mouth upturned. "Say yes."
He nibbled at her lips, licked at them, opened them. He kissed her until she writhed in his arms, her pulse racing. "Say it, Amelia, and save me from ever having to spend a night with another woman. I'll sleep indoors. I'll get a haircut. God help me, I think I'd even carry a pocket watch if it pleased you."
Amelia stopped before him, her skirts crowded between his parted knees. The clean, salty, evergreen scent of him drifted to her nostrils. "I have a proposition for you,รข€ she said, trying for a businesslike tone. "A very sensible one. You see," She paused to clear her throat. "I've been thinking about your problem.
"What problem?" Cam played lightly with the folds of her skirts, watching her face alertly.
"Your good-luck curse. I know how to get rid of it. You should marry into a family with very, very bad luck. A family with expensive problems. And then you won't have to be embarrassed about having so much money, because it will flow out nearly as fast as it comes in."
"Very sensible." Cam took her shaking hand in his, pressed it between his warm palms. And touched his foot to her rapidly tapping one. "Hummingbird," he whispered, "you don't have to be nervous with me."
Gathering her courage, Amelia blurted out, "I want your ring. I want never to take it off again. I want to be your romni forever"”she paused with a quick, abashed smile, "whatever that is."
"My bride. My wife." Amelia froze in a moment of throat-clenching delight as she felt him slide the gold ring onto her finger, easing it to the base.
"When we were with Leo, tonight," she said scratchily, "I knew exactly how he felt about losing Laura. He told me once that I couldn't understand unless I had loved someone that way. He was right. And tonight, as I watched you with him . . . I knew what I would think at the very last moment of my life."
His thumb smoothed over the tender surface of her knuckle. "Yes, love?"
"I would think," she continued, "Oh, if I could have just one more day with Cam. I would fit a lifetime into those few hours."
"A lack of desire is something I've never experienced. I'd have to be on my deathbed before I stopped wanting--no, never mind, I was on my deathbed in the not-too-distant past, and even then I had the devil's own itch for my wife."
"Never be afraid to hope," Rohan said gently. "It's the only way to begin."
Rohan, one of us is an unmarried man with superior mathematical abilities and no prospects for the evening. The other is a confirmed lecher in an amorous mood, with a willing and nubile young wife waiting at home. Who do you think should do the damned account books?" And, with a nonchalant wave, St. Vincent had left the office.
...whether he stayed or left, whether they walked the same path or not. They could live on opposite sides of the world, and she would still be his.
"The Rom believe you should take the road that calls to you, and never turn back. Because you never know what adventures await. ...So we're going to take this road," he murmured, "and see where it leads.
I think in a moment of weakness, you might surprise yourself.
And then another letter had come from Christopher, so devastating that Amelia wondered how mere scratches of ink on paper could rip someone's soul to shreds. She had wondered how she could feel so much pain and still survive.
But the absence of tears wasn't the same as an absence of feeling.
"I'm not the marrying kind."
St. Vincent snorted. "No man is. Marriage is a female invention."
The question, love, is whether you want me enough to take the risk.
A slow smile had curved St. Vincent's lips. 'Wives are a different case altogether. They require a great deal of effort but the rewards are substantial. I highly recommend wives. Especially one's own."
"You are an interesting woman Amelia."
Gooseflesh rose wherever his breath touched. "I can't f-fathom why you would think so."
His playful mouth traced the wing of her brow. "I find you thoroughly, deeply interesting. I want to open you like a book and read every page." A smile curved the corners of his lips as he added huskily, "Footnotes included."
Cam held her closer. "Marry me, Amelia. You're what I want. You're my fate."
One hand slid to the back of her head, gripping the braids and ribbons to keep her mouth upturned. "Say yes."
He nibbled at her lips, licked at them, opened them. He kissed her until she writhed in his arms, her pulse racing. "Say it, Amelia, and save me from ever having to spend a night with another woman. I'll sleep indoors. I'll get a haircut. God help me, I think I'd even carry a pocket watch if it pleased you."
Amelia stopped before him, her skirts crowded between his parted knees. The clean, salty, evergreen scent of him drifted to her nostrils. "I have a proposition for you,รข€ she said, trying for a businesslike tone. "A very sensible one. You see," She paused to clear her throat. "I've been thinking about your problem.
"What problem?" Cam played lightly with the folds of her skirts, watching her face alertly.
"Your good-luck curse. I know how to get rid of it. You should marry into a family with very, very bad luck. A family with expensive problems. And then you won't have to be embarrassed about having so much money, because it will flow out nearly as fast as it comes in."
"Very sensible." Cam took her shaking hand in his, pressed it between his warm palms. And touched his foot to her rapidly tapping one. "Hummingbird," he whispered, "you don't have to be nervous with me."
Gathering her courage, Amelia blurted out, "I want your ring. I want never to take it off again. I want to be your romni forever"”she paused with a quick, abashed smile, "whatever that is."
"My bride. My wife." Amelia froze in a moment of throat-clenching delight as she felt him slide the gold ring onto her finger, easing it to the base.
"When we were with Leo, tonight," she said scratchily, "I knew exactly how he felt about losing Laura. He told me once that I couldn't understand unless I had loved someone that way. He was right. And tonight, as I watched you with him . . . I knew what I would think at the very last moment of my life."
His thumb smoothed over the tender surface of her knuckle. "Yes, love?"
"I would think," she continued, "Oh, if I could have just one more day with Cam. I would fit a lifetime into those few hours."
"A lack of desire is something I've never experienced. I'd have to be on my deathbed before I stopped wanting--no, never mind, I was on my deathbed in the not-too-distant past, and even then I had the devil's own itch for my wife."
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