Page 89 of The Defiant One
"What will the servants think?" Andrew teased, with a wicked gleam in his eye.
"That Rosebriar's mistress is madly in love with her husband. Now come, Andrew. I have a present for you, and I must give it to you now, before we meet in bed, before you kiss me again and make me lose all my resolve to make this perfect —"
"A present?"
"A wedding present! Come, let's go!"
She slid out of his arms and landed lightly on the ground. He dismounted, handed the Thoroughbred's reins to an approaching groom, and ran after his wife as she flew up the front stairs. He caught her arm one step from the top and spun her around. She was laughing, her eyes bright and her cheeks rosy from the cold wind as she tumbled into his arms.
"If we're going to make this perfect, I have a few ideas of my own," he said. "First I am going to kiss you. Then I am going to carry you over the threshold as I should have done the other morning. And finally I'm going to let you go for only the space of a heartbeat, because I, too, have a wedding present to give you."
Again their lips met, and she was still kissing him as he lifted her easily in his arms, carried her up the last stone step and over the threshold into the home that had once been her father's, then hers — and now belonged to them both. He didn't bother shutting the door, leaving it swinging open behind them for a servant to close.
In the entrance hall, he finally set her down. "Very well, go get your present, then, and I'll go get mine. Where shall we meet?"
"Top of the stairs in a quarter of an hour!"
Then, laughing, she kissed him fully on the lips and was gone in a whirl of dark woolen petticoats.
Andrew stood there for a moment in the hall, his head reeling, his heart singing. God and thunderation, what the devil had he wasted all this time, energy and worry on? Perfect women did indeed exist! He had one!
And what the devil was he doing just standing there?
He ran to fetch his present to her, which was still packed in the coach that had come down with them from Blackheath. The coach was in the stables, and as Andrew lifted the heavy wooden crate from the vehicle, he cursed himself for not having had it brought round to the house. By the time he lugged the thing back to the house, through the door, and across the entrance hall, he was nearly out of breath. There he set the crate down and paused to look up the grand flight of stairs.
Celsie was there, all right, at the very top, her eyes laughing, her arms empty, watching in amusement as he bent once more and labored to get the huge crate up the stairs.
"Is that my present?" she asked impishly, leaning against the wall and watching him struggling with his burden.
"It certainly is."
"Well, I guess it's not a piece of the famous de Montforte jewelry," she quipped, folding her arms and pretending to be very disappointed. "Unless it's a four-million-carat diamond."
"You're right . . . not jewelry," he managed, stopping to rest for a moment before picking the giant box back up and continuing on.
"It looks fearfully heavy. What's in there?"
"Can't tell you."
"Why not?"
"It's a surprise."
"What is it made of, then? Solid gold?"
"Solid iron."
"Iron?" she said, trying not to look too disappointed by the fact that her handsome new bridegroom was not as romantic as she had thought. "Really, Andrew . . ."
"Don't laugh, you might like it."
"Yes, I might, if you can ever succeed in getting it up these stairs. All I can say is that I'm glad I married you for your brains and not your brawn." She put her hands on her hips and grinned saucily down at him. "Why, I could have had that thing up these stairs in half the time you're taking!"
"You try picking the confounded thing up!" he said drolly, taking out a handkerchief and mopping his forehead.
Celsie, one brow lifting in mocking amusement, waited until he reached the top of the stairs and set the crate down. Shooting him a superior little grin, she reached down to pick it up — and froze, her grin abruptly fading. She might as well have tried to lift an overweight Great Dane. The crate wouldn't budge.
"Very well then, I reclaim my comment about your brawn," she said, straightening. "It's a wonder you didn't break your back! Really, Andrew, why didn't you just leave it downstairs, instead of lugging it all the way up here?"
