Page 73 of Miss Dramatic
“Not Wordsworth,” Rose said, leaning against his side. “I commend to the bottom of the Twid the old Rose, the one who could not speak up for herself, the one who wasfinewhen her heart was breaking andfinewhen she should have been furious. I still want to kick Drysdale, but I no longer want to kick myself.”
“Ah. A good feeling. Do you want to kick me? I should have known you would not cheapen what was between us with an offer of coin.” Gavin had certainly been kicking himself over that error.
Rose, to her credit, was quiet for a moment. “The ladies in your life have been less than supportive, Gavin. I’m sure some part of you was expecting that I’d let you down too. I don’t need or want to kick you, but perhaps you need to pitch something into the river too?”
Gavin wasn’t about to toss his family into the water. He loved them dearly, for one thing, and for another, they could swim like porpoises. Rose was right, though. The DeWitt ladies hadn’t supported him, hadn’t evenseenhim, really, but that had apparently changed.
“Maybe I’m the one who needs a dunking. Can you swim?”
“Yes.” Rose headed up the bank to the towpath. “Don’t tell anybody, but I was raised in the country after all, and summers do get so wretchedly hot.”
Gavin began a mental list of adventures he and Rose would share. A midnight swim in the Twid, a mounted race across the countryside with her on Roland, a night at the opera in the finest box to be had… and many, many quiet walks wherever Rose sought to lead him.
“What will you do with Drysdale?” Gavin asked.
“I don’t know yet. I’m more focused on what I’ll do with you in the next several hours.”
“I have a few suggestions.” He caught her again by the hand and drew her in for a kiss, which turned into a long, lusty, and mutual indulgence.
“I do believe,” Rose said, marching off several minutes later, “you’d be more comfortable without your clothes, Mr. DeWitt.”
“These hot nights,” Gavin murmured, catching up with her. “Such a tribulation.”
They reached their trysting place, and Gavin soon had himself and Rose free of every stitch. Her lovemaking acquired a strategic quality, full of self-restraint on her end while she drove Gavin witless with her caresses and kisses.
She had him on his back, which was lovely and maddening and exactly where he wanted to be.
“You will regret this obstreperousness, madam.” He stroked her hips and knees, and she retaliated by using the end of her braid on his nipples.
“Will I? Will I regret it any time soon, or do you propose to lecture me—finally.”
He’d taken himself in hand, found his destination, and begun the joining. “You’re in a hurry now?”
“I’m in… transports. Do that again.”
He kept the rhythm slow and sweet, like the soft summer night that gave them such lovely privacy. Rose began to pant gently. She stopped tormenting him with her braid and crouched close enough to kiss him.
“Rose?”
“Hmm?”
“I do love you. I have from the first moment I saw you reading in the… Not fair, madam.” She’d pinned his hands beside his head. “I want to touch you.”
“What do you call this?” She gave a little fillip with her hips. “A wave from across the ballroom?”
“Diabolical woman.” Gavin could break her hold easily, but relished the novelty of Rose in charge of every particular. She apparently liked it, too, because she dallied with him until he could not have quoted the Bard to save King Henry’s army at Agincourt.
“Diabolical man.” Rose began to shudder, and a moment later, Gavin was shuddering right along with her. The satisfaction was cataclysmic, overwhelming every sense and dissolving Gavin into a sparkling sweetness suffused with joy and love.
“No handy quote?” Rose murmured drowsily a few minutes later. She breathed with him, rising and falling on his chest as if he were the Thames and she a one-woman pleasure barge.
“I love you. Not very original, but profoundly sincere.”
She kissed his chin. “Love you too. Have forever. I’m falling asleep.”
She dozed off as Gavin stroked her back and marveled at the wonder of Rose Roberts. She deserved a proper proposal, bended knee, a pretty bauble—rubies, perhaps?—and a lovely little monologue about happiness and fate and…
Gavin’s eyes grew heavy as he composed an offer of marriage in rhyming couplets. His caresses slowed, and soon, the tide of love took him gently out to sea.
