Page 71 of Winter's Waltz
He gave in to temptation then, tracing her jaw with the backs of his fingers. Her skin was fashioned of silk and flame. “You are wrong, my love.”
“Not the best way of persuading a woman to marry you, that,” she observed, her voice taking on a husky tone. “Telling her she’s wrong.”
“I’ll take my chances.” He allowed his fingertips to trail down her throat. “Your tables are filled, Lady Fortune an undoubtable success. You are, just as Jasper Sutton said, the queen of the East End. Empress of all you rule: this gaming hell, me.”
“Damn it, Marquess. You are making this far more difficult than it has to be.”
Ever stubborn, his woman. Never mind. So could he be when the situation warranted it.
He caressed over her collarbone, his forefinger dipping into the hollow at the base of her throat. “No, love. You are making it far more difficult.”
“What would you have me do?”
“Marry me.”
“You’ll regret it.”
“Never,” he vowed.
“You say that now, but how can I be sure?” Her eyes were troubled, searching his, seeking answers.
He took her hand, guided it to his heart. “This is how. My heart. It’s yours, empress. It beats for you. Do you feel?”
Her lips parted. “Yes.”
“I love you. I admire you. And I will continue to do so for the rest of our lives as long as you will allow it,” he said, his voice shaking with the ferocity of his emotions. “I do not seek to keep you from being who you are, because that is the woman I fell in love with. You can continue to run Lady Fortune without my interference.”
“Do you want me to keep it a secret, my involvement?” she asked. “As the ladies suggested I do?”
“Only if you wish it.” That had been Addy’s idea, a way of allowing Gen the freedom of continuing to live her life as she wished. “There will be sacrifices you must make as my wife, and I’ll not lie about that. My father may not approve. He may cut me off. We may have to attend balls you find tedious, and you may have to occasionally don gowns such as this one.”
She nodded. “You’ll need to sacrifice too, Marquess. I have a vulgar tongue.”
“I’d like to feel it on me.”
She flushed. “I prefer to wear trousers.”
“And I prefer removing them from you.” His hand left hers to slide around her waist, pulling her flush to his body. “Any other sacrifices?”
“I won’t give up Lady Fortune.”
“I already told you I’d never ask it of you.” Her curves were melting against him, and it took all the restraint he possessed to keep from kissing her.
“I’ll always be a bastard born to the rookeries, most at home in the East End.”
“I’ll love you regardless of our geographical affiliations,” he assured her.
“I’ll love you, too,” she said.
Shock and elation hit him at once, rather with the same force as a Genevieve Winter fist to the nose. “You love me?”
“Aye.” She smiled, her sky-blue eyes glimmering with unshed tears. “I love you. And I’ll marry you. I’ll keep my identity a secret below. I’ll do my best to protect you from scandal and shame.”
Relief took the place of the shock, mingling with elation, and then another emotion. Sheer, unapologetic joy. He held her to him so tightly he feared he might crush her. “Do you mean it, Gen?”
“Yes.” She frowned. “I’m cork-brained to agree, but…yes. I love you, Max, and I do not want to be without you. You feel like a part of me. Thebestpart of me.”
He knew the sentiment.Lord, did he know it.
