Page 123 of Foes, Friends and Lovers
As one, they turned toward the arm of the gallery that led to Gregory’s room, away from the entrances to the corridors to the other wings.
An alcove a little way along had become their evening haunt, a place in which they could share whispers, hopes, and dreams, and kisses and caresses as well.
Over the past weeks, those wordless exchanges had grown more heated, more poignant, more meaningful, but also increasingly laced with a building urgency.
Now, at last, he felt free to move ahead—to take the next step, one he and she had been waiting to broach.
He stepped into the alcove, drawing her with him, and as they usually did, they looked out on the moonlit ruins. Mist lay heavy on the stone-strewn ground and cloaked the ancient soaring arch in drifting, translucent scarves.
Tonight, there was little they needed to share in words; after the long discussion in the library, their thoughts were assuredly aligned.
He breathed in and, using the hand he held, drew her to face him.
She turned readily and looked up, into his eyes. Her lips glimmered, sheened by the moonlight, temptation incarnate, but tonight, first…
Despite the weightiness of the moment, he felt his lips curve. “I’ve never done this before.”
She understood perfectly, yet with passable innocence, she arched a questioning brow. “This what?”
He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the backs of her fingers, holding her widening eyes all the while. “Proposing marriage to the lady I love.”
Teasingly, she widened her eyes. “Have you proposed marriage to someoneotherthan the lady you love?”
He laughed softly and met her eyes again.
Caitlin looked into the wicked hazel depths as, still smiling, he murmured, “No, I haven’t. This will be the first and, I fervently hope, my one and only attempt to offer for a lady’s hand.”
Without warning, he stepped back and went down on one knee.
Her heart leapt and lodged in her throat. Her lips formed a soundless O.
He looked up at her, and she stared into his moss-and-gold eyes and felt bathed in a glow of fond affection—bathed in his love.
Through their nighttime excursions into passion, restrained by circumstance though those had been, she’d grown increasingly aware and increasingly certain of that emotional bond solidifying between them.
Growing stronger each day and more intense with every night.
“Caitlin Susanna Madeline Fergusson, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife, to stand by my side through thick and thin as we steer our crazy household and all those on the Bellamy Hall estate into a glorious future?”
It was her turn to smile, then laugh.
When Caitlin met Gregory’s eyes again, hers were radiant, the most glorious sight he ever hoped to see.
Then with commendable brevity, she simply said, “Yes, Gregory Cynster. I will be utterly delighted to be your wife.”
He was on his feet in the next heartbeat and drawing her into his arms.
He bent his head, and their lips met—in a kiss that was almost reverent.
A kiss that promised and lured, then hunger broke its bonds, and their passions roared.
He swept her into his arms, and she was already there, already stretching up to meet his greedy need with her own. To encourage and incite, with her lips and tongue to meet every demand he made and, in return, impress her own wants and desires on him.
Boldly, she moved into him, pressing her curves to his harder frame.
His breath hitched, and he desperately tried to grab hold of the reins that had slid from his grasp and were fast disappearing…
“We don’t have to stop.” She murmured the words against his lips, then dove again into the kiss.
