Page 88 of The Rules of Courtship
“Thank you.” A grin broke over her mouth, drawing his attention to her lips. “Did that show of support earn me a kiss?” she asked.
“You never need to earn it,” he said, but he obliged her anyway. Pulling her tightly against him, Oliver slipped his hands around her waist and found her lips, unleashing the pent-up emotion he had been harboring all day. She buried her hands in his hair, returning his affection tenfold.
Ruth had been the beacon of light in his dreary world. Sunlight shone on the horizon now, a promise of good things to come, but still she shone brighter, filled him with more comfort and heat than anything else could. She was his home.
Though Oliver was grateful they would not lose their house.
“Your guests are waiting,” he said breathlessly. Regretfully, he pulled back.
“Blasted guests,” she muttered, reaching to kiss him again.
Oliver enjoyed her for another moment before breaking away. “Locksley is waiting, as well.”
“The assemblies can go to the devil.”
She tried to kiss him again, but he stepped back, fighting a laugh. “You must go, Ruth. I will meet you in the morning for a ride, if that suits.”
She looked up at him through her lashes, the sweetest smile falling over her plump lips, and his heart tripped. “I was hoping we would ride every day for the rest of our lives, Oliver.”
“I can agree to that.”
“You shall have to keep my newest rule, then.”
He could sense an incoming absurdity. “What new rule is that, Ruth?”
“Well, I had to do away with many rules, as you know. I am breaking them left and right.”
“You did engage yourself to a man from Harewood. I can see how that might have taken its toll.”
“Precisely. So I’ve drafted a new list of rules. Since you are to be my husband, you must agree to take them seriously.”
“Must I?”
She leaned in. “I do not think it will be a hardship.”
His blood heated, imagining all sorts of rules and how he would enjoy seeing them through. “What are they?”
“The first one has to do with riding,” she said seriously, though there was a glint in her eye. “We must take a break near the oak tree every time we set out together.”
The tree where they had kissed. His chest thudded, body warming at the memory of pressing Ruth against the trunk and losing himself in the way she had made him feel. If she was not careful, he would change his tune and try to convince her to remain at Boone Park for the evening. But the women were waiting, and Lady Helena likely knew what they were up to. With great restraint, for which Oliver was vastly proud of himself, he took a step back. He thought of meeting her in the morning and riding to their tree together. “That is a rule I can easily agree to.”
“Good.” Ruth took his hand and tugged him along behind her down the stairs. “I love you, Oliver Rose.”
“Not quite as much as I love you, I think,” he countered.
“Hmm. I shall race you for it tomorrow.”
“Deal.”
Epilogue
SAMUEL
Rule #32: Only marry for love
The wedding went much as Samuel had expected, both in how happy he was for the newly wedded couple and in how beautifully the bride shone. Oliver radiated, his gaze never straying from Ruth and his smile never wavering. He had even agreed to borrow Samuel’s blue waistcoat, which was striking with his gray coat and white cravat. Ruth had needed no help looking every bit the stunning, blushing bride. Together they made a powerful impression, strong enough to incite a longing in Samuel’s chest for a woman to love.
There were some murmurs among the congregation over how quickly they chose to be married following Captain Rose’s death. A couple was overheard in the pew behind Samuel stating it was far too early for Oliver to have put off his mourning. Samuel gave them a judgmental look down his nose, which successfully quieted them at once. It had been a fear that the parishioners of Harewood would find this uncouth, but Ruthand Oliver decided they would rather be married than care what others said about them. They moved ahead with the wedding after the appropriate three months of mourning had been observed—the proper time appointed for an uncle, though very few people understood precisely why they had made that choice.
