Page 7 of To Marry and to Meddle
“But aren’t you worried it will make our marriage seem… hasty?” she asked.
He shrugged. “There’s bound to be a bit of gossip, no matter what. And I think the advantages of not allowing your parents—or Cartham, for that matter—to have any warning outweigh any whispers we might cause. Besides,” he added, a bit smugly, “the Archbishop of Canterbury was a school friend of my father’s, and he’s always been rather fond of me. What a perfect opportunity to take advantage of that fact.”
“Are gentlemen always this pleased with themselves when they propose?” she wondered aloud, and he resisted a sudden desire to grin.
“Was there another condition?” he asked instead.
Emily, he was interested to note, suddenly blushed. This in and of itself was not noteworthy—she was more prone to blushes than any woman he’d ever met, a fact that he actually found rather charming—but itdidmake him curious as to what request she wished to make of him that would provoke such a reaction.
“I would like you to kiss me,” she said before he had time to contemplate further.
It took his mind a moment to catch up to his ears, and by the time he’d worked out what she’d said, she was already looking like she regretted her bold words. She did not, however, take them back, nor did she break eye contact with him; in fact, she gazed steadily at him all the while, as though determined not to be cowed, or to be ashamed of what she’d said.
And Julian—not being a man known to hesitate when a beautiful woman made a bold invitation—proceeded to acquiesce.
“Wait!” she said hastily, leaning back as he ducked his head toward her, a lock of hair falling forward onto his forehead in a way that he knew ladies found appealing.
Emily, however, seemed unmoved by the lock of seduction, and instead held up a hand, letting it hover awkwardly between them. He had the distinct impression that she wished to reach out and place it on his shoulder or chest, to prevent any movement on his part, but that she didn’t quite dare make any sort of physical contact.
Which, of course, begged the question of how she thought he was going to kiss her without touching her. Except that, at the moment, it did not seem that she wished him to kiss her at all.
It had been a few months since Julian had parted from his most recent mistress, but he didn’t recall her behavior being quite so confusing.
“Did you not, just a moment ago, ask me to kiss you?” he asked mildly.
“Well, yes,” Emily hedged. “But I didn’t expect you to spring into action so quickly.”
“Did you think I’d send it to a committee to debate?”
“No,” she said slowly, drawing the word out. “I’m not actually sure what I thought. I don’t have any experience to draw upon here, you understand.”
Julian nodded absently, then paused, her words belatedly registering.
No experience.
No experience with kissing.
He was somehow both unsurprised and entirely shocked. He should have expected it from her guileless and innocent demeanor. But on the other hand, she was three-and-twenty, had been out for several London Seasons, and was beautiful enough to attract more than her fair share of notice. Had no man ever tried to steal a kiss on an isolated terrace? Had she never been… curious?
“I’ve wondered what it would be like,” she said softly, as if reading his thoughts, “but… well, no one has ever taken any liberties.” She sounded both embarrassed and, if he was not mistaken, a trifle disgruntled. “Not that I would wish to be seduced by a lecher,” she added hastily. “But well… you hear so many dire warnings about balconies and unscrupulous gentlemen. And yet I have spent entire evenings inside well-lit ballrooms without a single attempt to lure me to a darkened corner, or out a set of French doors. It has been most perplexing.”
“I would be happy to remedy this oversight on the part of the other gentlemen of theton,” he drawled, taking care not to lean in too quickly and startle her—he felt like he was approaching a shy deer. “And, in fact, it would only be proper to seal our betrothal with a kiss.”
Her lips pressed together as if she were suppressing a smile. “I don’t think the wordproperis one that is often associated with you, Lord Julian.”
He frowned. “None of this ‘Lord Julian’ business, please. We aregoing to be married, and you just asked me to kiss you—I think we can dispense with formality and call one another by our first names, don’t you?”
“Julian,” she said slowly, as though testing out the sound of the word. Julian realized with a start that no one outside of his immediate family addressed him by simply his given name; in formal situations, his courtesy title was always used, and to his friends—and even his lovers—he had always simply been Belfry.
“I feel rather brazen,” she confessed, and he bit back a grin at that. If the mere act of using his first name felt bold, he was curious to see how she’d feel about some of the other activities that marriage entailed.
“Would you like to feel a bit more brazen?” he asked, lifting his hand to cup her cheek. It felt impossibly soft and warm against his hand.
She gazed at him for a moment, and gave him a slow nod. That was all the encouragement he needed, and he leaned in and touched his lips to hers.
It was a soft kiss, not at all like the kiss he would have given one of his previous lovers. His hand still cupped her cheek, and he felt her tense slightly at the first press of his mouth. After a moment, however, she let out a little sigh and relaxed into the kiss, allowing her head to rest more fully against his hand. Hesitantly, she lifted her hand to his shoulder, her thumb pressing softly at the side of his neck, and all at once he was tempted to deepen the kiss, pull her against him, feel the heat and softness of her body pressed against his own.
Instead, reluctantly, he pulled back, relishing the second before she opened her eyes, taking in the sight of her, cheeks flushed, lips still slightly parted. She blinked slowly, and met his eyes with her own. He half expected her to blush—if ever there had been a moment for it, this seemed to be it—but instead her mouth curved into a small smile.
