Dazed, she shook her head.

“Excellent. Neither do I. Therefore, all that is left is for you to answer my question. Will you marry me?”

He was looking at her with an expression that robbed her of breath. Love, tenderness, admiration, and heated longing all emanated from his gaze. Everything she’d always wanted but had been convinced could never be hers now stood before her. All the feelings and yearnings she’d ever hidden in her heart burst free, flooding her with a happiness she hadn’t dared hope possible.

Staring at him in wonder, scarcely able to believe this wasn’t a dream, she reached up and framed his face between her hands. “I love you, Philip. With all my heart. Yes, I will marry you. And I will strive every day to be a good and proper wife to you.”

She felt the tension drain from his body. Lowering his head, he pressed his forehead to hers. “Thank God. I thought you were going to say no.”

“You were very persuasive.”

“Because I love you so very much.” He gently touched his lips to hers, a kiss filled with love and promise, and one that quickly flared into a passionate mating of lips and tongues. Heat raced through her, and, wrapping her arms around his neck, she raised up on her toes, pressing herself against him.

Philip tightened his arms around her, and tried his damnedest to curb his ardor, but he was lost. Lost in the soft, supple feel of her. The delicious, sweet taste of her.

Lost in the knowledge that she loved him. That she would be his wife. That she was his to love and touch and kiss. To laugh with and love with.

Her fingers wreaked havoc with his hair while his hands ran restlessly down her back, urging her closer, then skimming lower to cup her buttocks. His erection strained against his tight breeches, and a guttural groan vibrated in his throat. Summoning his last ounce of will, he broke off their kiss. He blinked behind his fogged-up lenses, then impatiently pulled off his spectacles and tossed them onto the end table.

He looked down into Meredith’s glazed eyes, and a groan of pure masculine need pushed past his lips. With her lips damp and parted, her eyelids at half mast, and her color high, she looked well kissed and thoroughly aroused. And he knew if he kissed her again, he’d give in to the need clawing at him. “Meredith, if we don’t stop now, I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop at all.”

She looked at him with an expression that stilled him. “I don’t recall asking you to stop.”

Eighteen

Her words shot fire through his veins and robbed him of speech. I don’t recall asking you to stop…

“You said I was almost lost to you today,” she said, her eyes serious and intent upon his. “Well, I almost lost you as well. You said that we never know what the future holds, that every minute is a gift, and should not be squandered. I don’t want to waste so much as another second, Philip.”

Without hesitation, he bent his knees and scooped her up. Holding her tightly against his chest, he moved swiftly toward the door. “Have I mentioned how much I love the way you not only listen to me, but can repeat my own brilliant words back to me, almost verbatim?”

A smile curved her lips. “No, I don’t believe you’ve mentioned that.”

“Very remiss of me. Of course, there are so many things I love about you, it will take me an enormous amount of time to tell you all of them. Years. Decades. Especially as I am continually discovering new things.”

Leaving the study, he strode down the corridor, forcing himself not to break into an undignified gallop. As they entered the foyer, James asked anxiously, “Is Miss Chilton-Grizedale all right, my lord?”

Philip halted and beamed at the young man. “Actually, James, Miss Chilton-Grizedale is extraordinary. And what’s more, she shall not remain Miss Chilton-Grizedale much longer. She is soon to be Viscountess Greybourne. As she just accepted my proposal only minutes ago, you may be the first to congratulate us.”

“I… I’m honored, my lord,” James stammered, clearly dumfounded at being the first to hear such a momentous announcement. “Best wishes to both of you.”

“Thank you.” Without further ado, Philip climbed the stairs, two at a time, then headed swiftly down the corridor toward his bedchamber.

Crimson stained her cheeks. “Good heavens, whatever must that young man think, with you carrying me upstairs like this?”

“He thinks you are going to make good use of the bath set up in my chamber, which you are. And he thinks I am the luckiest man in the world, which I am.”

“Your announcement of our betrothal quite shocked him. One normally shares such news with one’s family before telling the servants. And certainly not while carrying one’s betrothed. And most certainly not while carrying one’s betrothed toward the bedchamber where a bath has been prepared.” She heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Whatever am I going to do about your stunning lack of propriety?”

“Hmmm. I can think of half a dozen things without even setting my mind to it. And do you really believe that was shock in his eyes? Odd, I thought it was envy. Still, how fortunate am I that my future bride is well versed in such etiquette-related details, the likes of which I’ve clearly forgotten over the years.” Arriving in his bedchamber, he crossed to the oversized brass tub set before the fire and gently lowered her to her feet. He then returned to the door to close and lock it. The click reverberated through the quiet room.

Rejoining her, he lifted her hands to press a kiss against each of her palms. The delicious scent of freshly buttered scones teased his senses, mingling with the heated steam rising from the bath.

He slipped the pins from her hair, allowing the fasteners to fall silently onto the Axminster rug. Midnight tresses spilled over his hands and down her back. Gently sifting his fingers through the strands, he loosened the tangles and the dust, until only smooth, shiny curls fell over his fingers.

Slowly. He had to go slowly with her. But bloody hell, he wasn’t certain he would be able to, especially if she continued to look at him with eyes that reflected love and trust and desire, shadowed with just a shade of trepidation.

“Nervous?” he asked.

A short breath pushed from her lungs. “Yes.”

“I imagine you witnessed a great deal more than a child should. And I would guess that most of it was of a crude nature.”

She swallowed audibly. “True.”

He tucked a silky stray curl behind her ear. “You know I would never hurt you.”

“Of course.”

“We will be beautiful together, Meredith.”

“I know, Philip. I’m not afraid.”

“I’m glad.” One corner of his mouth lifted. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m nervous as well.”

There was no mistaking her surprise. “Surely not for the same reason I am?”

Heat crept up his neck. “No. At least not exactly, as I am not a virgin. But nothing in my experience has prepared me for this. For making love to a woman I love. To a woman I desire so much I can barely think properly. To a woman I want, more than anything, to please. That, coupled with the fact that it has been many months since I was last with anyone… well, suffice it to say that I am nervous as well.”

He felt some of the tension ease from her body. “In that case,” she said, a smile trembling on her lips, “I shall do my utmost to be gentle with you.”

He smiled in return. “My darling Meredith, you have no idea how much I anticipate you doing so.”

Without taking his gaze off her, he unbuttoned her bodice, then slowly slipped her gown from her shoulders, revealing her delicate clavicle, and porcelain skin stained with a faint blush. “The first time I kissed you, at Vauxhall, my only regret was that it was so dark. I wanted to see you. Your skin. Your body. Your eyes. Your reactions. And now I have you in the light…” He eased her gown downward, over her arms, past her hips, then let it go to spill into a forest-green puddle at her feet.

Meredith drew in a quick breath and all the tension she’d only just pushed aside roared back at standing before him wearing only her undergarments. Taking her hand, he helped her step from the center of her fallen gown. He then picked up the garment and draped it over the back of a leather chair. Returning to her, he dropped to one knee. “Hold on to my shoulders.”

She did as he bade, and he gently lifted one foot, then the other, sliding off her shoes. He smoothed his hands up her calves, then the backs of her thighs, shooting shivers of delight up her spine. When his fingers skimmed near the edges of her garters, he looked up at her.

“The first time we met, after you’d swooned in St. Paul’s-”

“I prefer to call it an uncharacteristic moment of lightheadedness.”

“I’m certain you do. After you swooned, I told you I would not dream of touching your garters without your express permission.”

“Actually, you said you probably would not dream of touching them without my express permission. I thought you were incorrigible.”

“lam.”

“I also recall assuring you that you would never receive such permission.”

“You did. May I touch your garters, Meredith?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Please do.”

He untied the ribbons and slipped off her stockings, leaving her to curl her bare toes into the fire-warmed rug.

Then he rose, and her breath stalled when he edged his fingers beneath the straps of her chemise and slowly drew the garment down her body, letting it fall at her feet.

His gaze tracked slowly downward, touching her everywhere like a heated caress, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Her nipples hardened into aching points, and her breathing turned shallow.