Page 26 of Kiss the Scoundrel Farewell
Anger rose in his gullet. “What the deuce is the fool thinking?” He stood and began pacing. “I was planning on taking a room at the tavern. Hoping, actually, that you’d want me to stay for a while. Perhaps we should find somewhere safer for you to go.”
“No,” insisted Meg. “I’m not leaving my home. Surely, Lord Belten is just being zealous. And I’m perfectly safe with Mr. Jackson here. Unless…”
He froze. The tone of her voice when she said that word. “Unless?” he asked, slowly turning to face her.
“Unless you would like to stay here?” She licked her lips, then concentrated on the fire. “There are plenty of available rooms. I am a widow. It’s not like you would be taking advantage of me, or I need to worry about my reputation. I’m already an outcast.”
Simon knelt before her and tipped her chin to meet his eyes. Her lips trembled. From anticipation of his kiss or fear for her safety? “Meg,” he whispered and brushed her lips. “Marry me.”
Her head snapped up, emerald eyes flashing. “Marry you?”
“Yes, marry me. Help me become the man I want to be remembered as. Let us lean on each other and build a life that makes us both happy. We could accomplish so much together.” He took her hands in his. “I love you, Kitten. I always have.”
She swallowed, then blinked. A slow smile sent his heart racing. He’d thought about this the entire journey throughout Surrey. They’d been cheated after their first kiss. Fate was giving them another chance.
“Dear Simon,” she whispered, cupping his face with her hand. “I think I love you too.”
She leaned forward and kissed him. “But could we take a step back? Let’s give one another the opportunity to continue our acquaintance. I want to be sure we want the same future. I’m happy here. I don’t know where we would live or who would accept us.”
The woman was intelligent. And correct. “What if I court you for a month, then ask again? It’s more than enough time to find out if we will be compatible for a lifetime.”
A lifetime. It wouldn’t be enough.
“Yes, Simon. Yes, you may court me for a month.” She threw her arms around his neck. “We will figure it out.”
He stood, bringing her with him and cradling her in his arms. His mouth covered hers, and he twirled them in a circle, happier than he’d been in years. “You will say it back to me soon enough,” he said.
“Say what?” she asked, her eyes closed, her lips slightly turned up.
“I love you.”
Mr. Farrell showed Simon to a guest room, two doors down from Meg’s. She and Chipper lay on her bed, enjoying the peace before supper. She had dressed in a pale rose silk with sheer sleeves and tiny roses embroidered along the cuffs and hem. A puce ribbon was tied under the bustline. Her hair was swept up into a tight chignon with long curls dangling at her jaw. She wore pearls at her neck and throat.
When she heard footsteps, Meg hurried to the hall and shut her door, leaning against it as she watched Simon stride down the long carpet. He was so handsome.
“May I escort you to the dining room, my lady?” he asked, holding out his arm.
“I’d be delighted,” she said, placing her hand in the crook of his elbow.
They shared cottage pie that night and clever banter, drank fine wine, then retired to the parlor for a game of cribbage.
“I win again,” Meg said, laughing. “You owe me for two games now.”
“Since two out of three didn’t help me, what about three out of five?” Simon rose to pour himself another brandy. “Would you like more sherry?”
“No,” she said, covering her mouth as she yawned. “I apologize.”
“It’s late. We should probably both retire for the evening.” He stood by the window, looking out over a field, a light layer of snow bright under the moonlight. “Did you know your butler has remained by the door all evening?”
Meg laughed. “He is acting sentry for Mr. Jackson, who went into the village to learn of any strangers lurking about.”
“I thought he was protecting your virtue.” He waggled his brows at her and she laughed, remembering him that night in the garden. They stared at each other, silence filling the room.
Crack!
Simon’s head jerked toward the window. “That sounded like a shot.”
“No one would be hunting at this time of night, would they?” she asked, her voice high with tension. “Poachers?”
