Page 64 of All I Want for Christmas… Is You
Emma’s heart pounded against her breast for she knew precisely what it contained.
His mother’s ring.
She had set it down upon Andrew’s desk and walked away, expecting never to see it again. Forgetting modesty, she dropped the covers and opened the box at once, gasping with joy—not because the ring was so lovely, with its enormous mother-of-pearl stone etched with Lucien’s family’s crest, but because this time when he gave it to her, she spied the certainty in his eyes. Words escaped her as she peered at him across the box in her hand.
“Put it on,” he entreated.
Unshed tears gathered in Emma’s eyes. She blinked them away, but couldn’t speak. Her throat felt suddenly too thick, and her vision too hazy. In fact, she couldn’t have put the ring on to save her life.
Impatient to see it on her hand once more, Lucien took the ring from the box, placing it gingerly upon her finger. He took a fortifying breath. “Be my wife,” he entreated. “I love you, Emma Peters,” he said honestly, and kissed her hand with feeling. “I believe I have from the first. I just didn’t feel worthy then—nor do I now, but I shall never let you regret it for a moment—I swear it!”
Tears rolled down Emma’s cheeks.
With bated breath, Lucien awaited for her response, hoping against hope that she would not see fit to deny him. After all he had put her through, he wouldn’t blame her if she chose to walk away. But he worried for naught, because he spied forgiveness in her eyes—and so much more—and she whispered softly, “Yes!”
His heart surged into his throat.
In that moment, he couldn’t help himself—her brother be damned—propriety be damned. He wanted her with a desire more fierce than any he had ever known. And if he was very, very lucky, she was going to be quite thoroughly ruined come morning. And then he planned to marry her in such a scandalous haste that it would lift every brow in London, if not the whole of England.
She sighed softly as he adored her mouth and he was vaguely aware that she dropped the gift box from her fingers. It tumbled forgotten to the floor with a wooden clatter.
“Lucien,” she whispered between his kisses. “What are you doing?”
Honesty had always served him best, he decided. “Making certain you have no choice but to marry me come morning.”
Emma couldn’t stifle a horrified giggle. “Youarea wicked man!” she said, choking on her emotion.
Lucien laughed softly, laying her back upon the bed, kissing her thoroughly. “So I’ve been told,” he said without remorse, and when she didn’t protest, he rolled on the bed, taking her with him. “Now tell me you love me,” he demanded, holding her firmly about the waist. “Or I will shout at the top of my lungs and wake the entire house!”
Emma stifled a shriek of surprise to find herself suddenly reversed and looking down upon him. “You wouldn’t dare!”
Lucien opened his mouth to prove otherwise, and Emma slapped her hand over his mouth, laughing. “I love you,” she relented at once.
“Say it again,” he entreated softly.
“I love you,” she confessed with feeling, and then, God help her, she said it again, “I love you, Lucien.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks unchecked as she bent to kiss him freely of her own accord.
It was the sweetest, most heart wrenching moment of Emma’s entire life. Who could have known a kiss could hold so much promise?
His hand went about her nape, holding her close, tasting her mouth with wild abandon, giving her the most wicked thrill. Beneath her, his body stirred and she exhaled in surprise and sat up straight astride him, looking down into his handsome face.
All laughter died abruptly as Emma and Lucien’s gazes locked and held.
Emma wasn’t a child by far. She knew what came next, and she welcomed it wholly. She smiled gently. “You may indeed have to rush me to the altar,” she warned.
He returned her smile. “I am fully prepared to do so without even posting the banns.”
Emma giggled and cupped his cheek, making certain that this moment was not a wonderful dream. “What now?” she asked soberly.
“Now… my dear sweet Emma… I’m going to teach youallmy wicked ways,” he said and shifted beneath her.
“All of them?” she asked coyly.
“Allof them,” he replied, and just so she would not mistake his meaning, he slid his hand up to cup one delectable breast. She gasped in surprise and arched into his touch and Lucien groaned deep in his throat. As he’d anticipated, her breast filled his hand perfectly, as though it were made only for him—and it was, he acknowledged, kneading softly.
“Teach me everything,” she whispered, shifting instinctively atop him, fitting her body more intimately over his, and he realized in that instant that he had quite misjudged his fiancé. She was a woman to her core.
