Page 73 of A Night of Desire with a Duke
"But?"
"But three weeks ago, you were ignoring my existence. Two weeks ago, you were ready to fight Lord Pemberton over me. Tonight, you proposed in the middle of a ballroom. It's all rather... sudden."
"Sudden?" He laughed. "Catherine, I've been in love with you for three months. The fact that it took me this long to propose shows remarkable restraint."
"Three months ago, you didn't even know my real name."
"No, but I knew you. The real you. The woman who argued with me about room prices and traded barbs over terrible beef. The woman who gave herself to me so completely, so trustingly." His hands went to her waist, pulling her closer. "The woman who's haunted my dreams every night since."
"James," she breathed, aware they were visible from the ballroom.
"Let them look," he said, echoing his words from the park. "We're betrothed now. A little impropriety is expected."
"A little?"
"You're right. A lot." He kissed her, deep and thorough, his hands sliding to her waist. "My goodness, Catherine, these two weeks have been torture. Being near you but not able to touch you. Dancing with you but not able to..."
"Someone's coming," she gasped, hearing footsteps.
James growled in frustration but stepped back to a proper distance just as Lord and Lady Pemberton appeared.
"There you are!" Lady Pemberton said brightly. "We wanted to offer our congratulations properly."
"Thank you," Catherine said, trying to calm her racing heart.
"You're good together," Lord Pemberton said simply. "Anyone can see it."
"Marcus," Catherine started, but he held up a hand.
"I'm happy for you. Truly. You deserve someone who looks at you the way he does."
"And how do I look at her?" James asked, genuinely curious.
"Like she's your whole world," Lady Pemberton said softly. "Like she's the sun and you've been living in darkness."
"Accurate," James agreed, which made Catherine blush.
They talked for a few more minutes before the Pembertons departed. Catherine and James were alone again, the ballroom's lights casting shadows across the terrace.
"Three weeks," James said. "You really want to wait three weeks?"
"We need time to do this properly. Banns read, wedding clothes, guest lists..."
"I don't care about any of that."
"Your mother will."
He groaned. "You're right. She'll want the full production."
"Besides," Catherine said, moving closer, "anticipation makes everything sweeter."
"Does it?" His voice dropped. "Because I'm anticipating quite a lot, and I'm not sure sweet is the word I'd use."
"What word would you use?"
"Desperate. Aching. Consuming."
Each word sent heat through her. "James..."
