Page 66 of Miss Prim and the Duke of Wylde
She glanced at him curiously. “So what have you been thinking about?”
He looked at the well-clipped grass before their feet. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but given these attacks started after we announced our engagement, regardless of whether they’re aimed at you or me or both of us, their purpose, one has to suppose, is to prevent us marrying.”
She considered that, then nodded. “That’s logical.”
He flung her a wry grin. “So…while we agreed to wait until June to make our final decision”—he looked ahead—“from where I stand, I definitely want to marry you, and I’m willing to count my decision made.” He brought his dark gaze to her face. “In light of that, I wondered where you currently stand on that question—to marry me or not—and whether, if we’re both of a mind to finalize our union, we shouldn’t declare our hand and marry as soon as possible.”
Meg blinked, but before she could reply, he, again looking ahead—scanning their surroundings for threats, she realized—smoothly continued, “As I see it, bringing our wedding forward will achieve two desirable additional aims. It will end the social circus and, more importantly, remove all incentive for any further attacks.”
To Meg’s mind, the latter was by far the more persuasive argument. The emotional upheaval of yesterday and the resulting tension—which had remained unresolved and continued through their evening’s events, as she’d found herself constantly on edge, glancing all around—had underscored just how much her inner self already had invested in Drago.
In Drago alive and being his usual, not-so-easily-managed self.
On him being the challenge she needed and, now, wanted above all else.
“Yes,” she said.
The single word had him glancing sharply at her. “Yes? As in…?”
She firmed her chin. The longer she thought about it, the better his idea seemed. “Yes, I agree that we should proceed to a wedding with all speed.”
He halted and faced her. He took her hands and searched her eyes. “You’re certain you want to marry me?”
And there it was—that hint of vulnerability that made her so very sure.
She smiled and nodded decisively. “Like you, I’ve made up my mind. Bringing our wedding forward won’t change anything other than those things we want to change.”
“Thank you.” Honest relief and gratitude infused the words. He smiled, and for once, his social mask fell away entirely, and his face reflected every bit of joy and delight she might have hoped to see. “I’m glad—no, I’m thrilled.” He raised her hands and, holding her gaze, dropped a kiss on each set of knuckles. “I swear to you on all I hold holy that you will never regret agreeing to be mine.”
Despite his reputation, she’d now heard enough and learned enough of him to feel certain that she wouldn’t.
They were attracting attention. Both realized and, twining their arms, started strolling again.
Given their determination to be protective of each other, attested to by how far both were prepared to go to secure the right to be openly so, even to initiating a rushed wedding with all that would entail, was merely a symptom of what had already grown between them—the link, the emotional connection—she had little doubt they would both feel much happier, more emotionally secure, once they were wed.
“No one else needs to know the reason behind our rush to the altar.” Drago’s quiet comment mirrored her thoughts.
“I agree.” She slanted a ruefully teasing glance his way. “Doubtless, those inclined to question what’s driven our decision will think the predictable.”
His lips twisted, and he met her gaze. “Indeed.”
Drago studied her eyes, then looked forward and squeezed her fingers where they rested on his sleeve. “So what’s next? In this, you’re at the helm.”
She pondered for an instant, then replied, “We tell my parents, then your mother.” She looked up and met his gaze. “And then we’ll merely have to stand back and let them run the show. I’ll wager they’re going to be very, very happy to do so.”
He gave an amenable nod. “In that case…” He turned her around, and they retraced their steps to the curricle. “Let’s head for Half Moon Street without delay.”
He was quietly thrilled by her ready acquiescence to his plan. He’d spent all of the previous evening and most of the night evaluating and debating the best way forward, searching for the surest way to get himself into position to protect her as his inner self demanded.
Marrying immediately—as soon as the knot could be appropriately tied—was unquestionably his best option. Once she was formally his, he would have a much freer hand to ensure nothing befell her, even if he had to hedge her around with guards.
They reclaimed the curricle and started for Half Moon Street. Along the way, they perfected their argument for a wedding as soon as possible.
“A week from now.” Meg looked at Drago. “Do you foresee any difficulty in obtaining a special license?”
“None whatsoever.” He grinned and turned out of the park in style. “The archbishop is a distant cousin of sorts and will be only too happy to see me leg-shackled.”
“In that case, I can’t see any hurdle that might trip us up.”
