Julia Quinn - It’s In His Kiss

Hyacinth nodded. The problem was, she was getting to the good part of the other book. She took a breath, trying to return her attention to Miss Butterworth, but the words swam before her eyes. Finally, she looked up at Lady Danbury and said, “I’m sorry, but would you mind terribly if I cut our visit short? I’m not feeling quite the thing.”

Lady Danbury stared at her as if she’d just announced that she was carrying Napoleon’s love child.

“I would be happy to make it up to you tomorrow,” Hyacinth quickly added.

Lady D blinked. “But it’s Tuesday.”

“I realize that. I-” Hyacinth sighed. “You are a creature of habit, aren’t you?”

“The hallmark of civilization is routine.”

“Yes, I understand, but-”

“But the sign of a truly advanced mind,” Lady D cut in, “is the ability to adapt to changing circumstances.”

Hyacinth’s mouth fell open. Never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined Lady Danbury uttering that.

“Go on, dear child,” Lady D said, shooing her toward the door. “Do whatever it is that has you so intrigued.”

For a moment Hyacinth could do nothing but stare at her. And then, suffused with a feeling that was as lovely as it was warm, she gathered her things, rose to her feet, and crossed the room to Lady Danbury’s side.

“You’re going to be my grandmother,” she said, leaning down and giving her a kiss on the cheek. She’d never assumed such familiarity before, but somehow it felt right.

“You silly child,” Lady Danbury said, brushing at her eyes as Hyacinth walked to the door. “In my heart, I’ve been your grandmother for years. I’ve just been waiting for you to make it official.”

Later that night. Quite a bit later, actually. Hyacinth’s attempts at translation had to be postponed for a lengthy family dinner, followed by an interminable game of charades. Finally, at half eleven, she found the information she was seeking.

Excitement proved stronger than caution…

Another ten minutes and Gareth would not have been there to hear the knock. He had pulled on his jumper, a rough, woolen thing that his grandmother would have called dreadfully uncouth but which had the advantage of being black as night. He was just sitting on his sofa to don his most quietly soled boots when he heard it.

A knock. Soft but adamant.

A glance at the clock told him it was almost midnight. Phelps had long since gone to bed, so Gareth went to the door himself, positioning himself near the heavy wood with a, “Yes?”

“It is I,” came the insistent reply.

What? No, it couldn’t be…

He yanked the door open.

“What are you doing here?” he hissed, pulling Hyacinth into the room. She went flying by him, stumbling into a chair as he let go to peer out into the hall. “Didn’t you bring someone with you?”

She shook her head. “No time to-”

“Are you mad?” he whispered furiously. “Have you gone stark, raving insane?” He’d thought he’d been angry with her last time she’d done this, running through London on her own after dark. But at least then she’d had some sort of an excuse, having been surprised by his father. This time-This time-

He could barely control himself. “I’m going to have to lock you up,” he said, more to himself than to her. “That is it. That is the only solution. I am going to have to hold you down and-”

“If you’ll just lis-”

“Get in here,” he bit off, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her into his bedroom. It was the farthest from Phelps’s small quarters off the drawing room. The valet usually slept like the dead, but with Gareth’s luck, this would be the night he decided to awaken for a midnight snack.

“Gareth,” Hyacinth whispered, scurrying behind him, “I have to tell you-”

He turned on her with furious eyes. “I don’t want to hear anything from you that doesn’t start with ‘I’m a damned fool.’ ”

She crossed her arms. “Well, I’m certainly not going to say that.”

He flexed and bent his fingers, the carefully controlled movement the only thing that was keeping him from lunging at her. The world was turning a dangerous shade of red, and all he could think of was the image of her racing across Mayfair, by herself, only to be attacked, mauled-

“I’m going to kill you,” he ground out.

Hell, if anyone was going to attack or maul her, it might as well be him.

But she was just shaking her head, not listening to anything he was saying. “Gareth, I have to-”

“No,” he said forcefully. “Not a word. Don’t say a word. Just sit there-” He blinked, realizing that she was standing, then pointed at the bed. “Sit there,” he said, “quietly until I figure out what the hell to do with you.”

She sat, and for once she didn’t look as if she was going to open her mouth to speak. In fact, she looked somewhat smug.

Which made him instantly suspicious. He had no idea how she had figured out that he had chosen that night to return to Clair House for one last search for the jewels. He must have let something slip, alluded to the trip during one of their recent conversations. He would have liked to think that he was more careful than that, but Hyacinth was fiendishly clever, and if anyone could have deduced his intentions, it would be her.

It was a damn fool endeavor in his opinion; he didn’t have a clue where the diamonds might be save for Hyacinth’s theory about the baroness’s bedchamber. But he had promised her he would go, and he must have had a more finely tuned sense of honor than he had thought, because here he was, heading out to Clair House for the third time that month.

He glared at her.

She smiled serenely.

Sending him right over the edge. That was it. That was absolutely-

“All right,” he said, his voice so low it was almost shaking. “We are going to lay out some rules, right here and right now.”

Her spine stiffened. “I beg your pardon.”

“When we are married, you will not exit the house without my permission-”

“Ever?” she cut in.

“Until you have proven yourself to be a responsible adult,” he finished, barely recognizing himself in his own words. But if this was what it took to keep the bloody little fool safe from herself, then so be it.

She let out an impatient breath. “When did you grow so pompous?”

“When I fell in love with you!” he practically roared. Or he would have, if they hadn’t been in the middle of a building of apartments, all inhabited by single men who stayed up late and liked to gossip.

“You…You…You what?”

Her mouth fell open into a fetching little oval, but Gareth was too far gone to appreciate the effect. “I love you, you idiot woman,” he said, his arms jerking and flailing like a madman’s. It was astonishing, what she had reduced him to. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d lost his temper like this, the last time someone had made him so angry that he could barely speak.

Except for her, of course.

He ground his teeth together. “You are the most maddening, frustrating-”

“But-”

“And you never know when to stop talking, but God help me, I love you, anyway,-

“But, Gareth-”

“And if I have to tie you to the damned bed just to keep you safe from yourself, as God is my witness, that is what I’ll do.”

“But Gareth-”

“Not a word. Not a single bloody word,” he said, wagging his finger toward her in an extremely impolite manner. Finally, his hand seemed to freeze, his index finger stuck into a point, and after a few jerky motions, he managed to still himself and drag his hands to his hips.

She was staring at him, her blue eyes large and filled with wonder. Gareth couldn’t tear his gaze away as she slowly rose to her feet and closed the distance between them.

“You love me?” she whispered.

“It will be the death of me, I’m sure, but yes.” He sighed wearily, exhausted simply by the prospect of it all. “I can’t seem to help myself.”

“Oh.” Her lips quivered, then wobbled, and then somehow she was smiling. “Good.”

“Good?” he echoed. “That’s all you have to say?”

She stepped forward, touched his cheek. “I love you, too. With all my heart, with everything I am, and everything-”

He’d never know what she’d been about to say. It was lost beneath his kiss.

“Gareth,” she gasped, during the bare moment when he paused for breath.

“Not now,” he said, his mouth taking hers again. He couldn’t stop. He’d told her, and now he had to show her.

He loved her. It was as simple as that.

“But Gareth-”

“Shhh…” He held her head in his hands, and he kissed her and kissed her…until he made the mistake of freeing her mouth by moving to her throat.

“Gareth, I have to tell you-”

“Not now,” he murmured. He had other things in mind.

“But it’s very important, and-”

He dragged himself away. “Good God, woman,” he grunted. “What is it?”

“You have to listen to me,” she said, and he felt somewhat vindicated that her breathing was every bit as labored as his. “I know it was mad to come here so late.”

“By yourself,” he saw fit to add.

“By myself,” she granted him, her lips twisting peevishly. “But I swear to you, I wouldn’t have done something this foolish if I hadn’t needed to speak with you right away.”

His mouth tilted wryly. “A note wouldn’t have done?”

She shook her head. “Gareth,” she said, and her face was so serious it took his breath away, “I know who your father is.”

It was as if the floor were slipping away, and yet at the same time, he could not tear his eyes off of hers. He clutched her shoulders, his fingers surely digging too hard into her skin, but he couldn’t move. For years to come, if anyone had asked him about that moment, he would have said that she was the only thing holding him upright.