Page 58 of Taming the Rake

“I’m sure Count Whiskers would have done you the favor, if you’d asked nicely.”

“Next time,” Reuben promised.

Gladys bared her teeth at him and rubbed her nose against his. “There won’t be a next time.”

“We could make it a tradition,” he offered. “Choose each other every year, on the same date.”

“I choose you every morning and every night,” she informed him. “I don’t need the trappings of public displays to prove the value of my love.”

“And yet, where is my grandmother’s freshly polished ring now?”

She wiggled her fingers. “Here on my hand. Not going anywhere.”

“What about us? Should we go back to Marrywell next year?”

“You already married well.”

“Mm, but there’s a shocking lack of statue gardens here in Battersea Park. How am I supposed to grab you against your will and ravish you senseless?”

“I’m very much a willing participant in every one of your wanton schemes, so you shall simply have to settle for ravishing me senseless.”

He brightened. “At this very moment?”

“At the moment, we’re in the middle of a public park.”

“No one can see us.”

“At least twelve other couples, twenty-five families, and a pair of gardeners can see us.”

“Sure, but they’re not watching. We’re practically alone. What if I pull the picnic blanket atop us? Will that fool them then?”

“I have a better idea.” She stretched out one arm to reach for her book.

“Don’t tell me your better idea is to reread that story from the beginning.”

“No, I’m tidying up. My better idea is getting out of here and finding a nice private place for a scoop of ice cream instead.”

His eyes darkened with interest. “Ice cream, ice cream? Or… ice cream?”

She grinned at him wickedly. “Scooper’s choice.”

“I’ll scoop you up,” he rasped, and did just that. “I’m fairly certain I can make it to the back of our carriage before I rend your garments from your body and show you a better time than that crumbling old castle.”

“I’m not sure I can wait that long.” She wiggled her brows and held on tight. “Run fast.”

And so he did.

As for the soft sounds that shortly emanated from the back of the carriage… well. John Coachman simply grinned to himself as he drove the long way home.

Again.