Page 39 of Anastasia and the Duke
They spent a few minutes, tracing the path around the pond, examining the tulips, wallflowers, and pansies which were currently in bloom, before taking a seat on a bench on the far side of the pond, which afforded them a view of the house.
Oliver, who could not quite believe his luck at having Miss Blackmore to himself in such a romantic, secluded spot, resisted the urge to take her hand, afraid that he might scare her away.
"I should like to remember this view forever," Miss Blackmore whispered, as she wistfully gazed out at the pond.
"You can see it every year if you wish," Oliver replied, "Lord and Lady Keyes throw an extravagant ball every season, it's tradition."
"Ah, but my invitation to next year's ball is not as certain as yours," she teased, her full lips quirking with amusement.
"It can be," Oliver answered, giving in to his desire and reaching out for her hand.
Miss Blackmore scrunched her nose up in confusion and cast him a perplexed glance. He could see that she was trying to understand the meaning of his words, but that her mind would not allow her to make the leap from orphan to duchess.
"Hannah," he said, taking the liberty of using her first name.
"Your Grace," she stammered in reply, her eyes wide and nervous.
"Oliver," he corrected her, but it was a step too far.
"I cannot address you so informally, your Grace," she replied, tilting her chin defiantly.
There was a stubbornness to her expression, which hinted that she was not afraid of him, but rather of him breaching the walls she had built around her heart.
"You can call me whatever you wish," Oliver replied with a light shrug, "So long as you agree to marry me."
"Marry you?"
His proposal was another step too far--though he had guessed it might be--for Miss Blackmore sprung out of the bench to her feet and began to pace before him.
"You are mad," she finally said, swinging around to face him, "Utterly fit for Bedlam. You cannot ask me to marry you; you do not know me."
It was the same trite argument that she had tried the previous night, and Oliver once again shrugged it away.
"You cannot deny that there is something between us," he stated, rising to a stand to face her, "You cannot say that you did not feel what I felt yesterday."
She opened her mouth to deny it, but nothing came out except an anguished sigh.
"I am not fit to be a duchess, your Grace," she said, changing tack, "I do not have the manners, the style, or the breeding that is required to be your wife."
"Dash it," Oliver growled, striding toward her, "The only thing I require in a wife, is that she is you."
There was a silence, as Hannah stared at him, her mouth parted slightly in shock. It was too much of a temptation for Oliver to resist and he pulled her into his arms, crushing her against his chest.
Oliver had wanted his first kiss with Hannah to be gentle and sweet, but her refusal to even entertain his proposal had awoken a beast within him. He wanted her for his wife, he wanted her to belong to him, and he wanted to claim her--all of her.
His lips crashed down upon her soft ones and he burned with longing. She tasted tender and sweet, like an exotic fruit. Her body melted against his and her arms wrapped themselves around his neck, pulling him closer.
To kiss Hannah Blackmore was a wondrous, heady experience, unlike any he had ever had before--except.
As he tangled his fingers through the loose strands of her hair and brought his lips to kiss the soft flesh of her neck, Oliver was hit by a wave ofdéjà vuas he inhaled Hannah's soft scent.
Floral, sweet, and simple, it was not some fancy perfume concocted by a Bond Street perfumer, but rather her natural scent, and it reminded Oliver of another woman--his thief.
Impossible, Oliver thought, and he pushed the thought aside so that he might continue enjoying the sensation of holding Miss Blackmore in his arms.
"Hannah," he growled, before catching her lips again in a kiss that was far more tender.
She whimpered with longing and clung to him tighter, surrendering herself completely to his adoration of her. They might have stayed like that for hours, had a shriek from the garden not distracted them.
