Page 31 of Vying for a Viscount
Greyson cleared his throat and said, “Do you mind if Letitia and I walk through the gardens? I will call your maid down to chaperone if you deem it necessary.”
“Brother,” Aurora scoffed, “Warren and I will stay right here and do nothing but hold hands. You can trust us.”
“Yes, well,” he cleared his throat again and looked directly at Warren. “Do I have your word, Warren, that you will do nothing but hold my sister’s hand while I’m gone?”
It was so sweet to see Warren blush. “Yes, Greyson. Hold hands. Nothing else. You have my word.”
“Good,” he said as he stood and held out his hand to her. Letitia placed her hand in his and stood. She pulled her wrap more snugly around her shoulders, knowing it would be crisp outside since darkness had settled.
As they exited the double doors onto the veranda and descended the stairs to the gardens, she said, “Poor Warren. You embarrassed him.”
“I did no such thing,” Greyson said.
She removed her hand from his and slipped her arm around his elbow, so they were very close, their bodies bumping against each other as they walked. “You did. He blushed. It was so sweet. He cares a great deal for Aurora.”
“Yes, I noticed that. Not the blush, but the caring for her. Honestly, a double wedding would be perfect.”
“I hear an exception coming.”
“Except Warren is a patient man who does things on his own time. Which, I might add, is at a snail’s pace.”
“Perhaps, when it comes to marrying Aurora, he will surprise even you. Mayhap when he learns that Hunter is proposing this very night,he will realize it is time for him to propose to Aurora. I predict he will come knocking tomorrow to discuss the marriage contract.”
“You are a romantic at heart, Letitia. And I... like that about you.”
If her hearing didn’t deceive her, she believed Greyson had almost saidlove. If her heart could soar, it would soar into the sky and circle all the stars and planets with utter joy. She had fallen completely in love with him during their time in Newmarket, and that love had intensified since then. Perhaps he felt something close to love? She could hope. “Thank you. You know, my parents married for love. So it was all I’d known growing up. It wasn’t until I married Rutherford that I found out very few couples in thetonmarry for love. Some do, and they are the lucky few.”
“I know you said you came to love Rutherford after you married, but did you love him when you married him?”
Hearing the trepidation in Greyson’s voice shocked her. After all, Rutherford was dead and posed no threat to him. “Not when I married him. I hardly knew anything about him, but, as you know, over time I came to love him.
“I see.”
She hadn’t noticed, but he led her to a private alcove with a bench, surrounded by evergreens and shrubs. “Does it bother you?”
“Please sit.” Letita sat on the cool wrought iron bench, and Greyson joined her. “Yes and no.” He combed his fingers through his hair several times, then sighed. “He was your husband. I have no right to be jealous of what you two shared. And the fact that he is dead makes me feel like a terrible person.”
“Nonsense,” she said, patting his thigh. “Perhaps I’d feel the same if the positions were reversed. What I will say is that Rutherford is gone. You are here with me. I choose to be with you.”
She turned on the bench so their knees brushed, and she cupped his cheeks with her bare hands, having left her gloves in the diningroom. “Let’s not waste this precious time alone tonight, talking and thinking about my deceased husband. We are together. We are alive. Will you kiss me already?”
His deep laughter filled her heart. “When you say it like that, I’d better comply.”
And so he did. He took her wrists and put them around his neck. His arms encompassed her waist, and his warm, wonderful lips landed on hers, and she was entirely lost. She twirled her fingers through his thick, soft brown hair, which brushed the top of his jacket collar. It only took a moment for her to realize their tongues were twirling around and around at the same pace as her fingers in his hair, which had him groaning into her mouth.
He took the kiss to new heights. His tongue no longer twirled and danced with hers. It devoured every crevice of her mouth. His lips pressed against hers, almost painfully, but she knew it was because he was lost in her, out of control with his need to kiss and taste her essence. When she thought she might die without air, she tore her mouth away, buried her head beneath his chin, and breathed deeply, her chest heaving to take in much-needed air. His heart thumped against her, and his chest rose and fell with his deep intakes of air.
“Letitia,” he said in a shaky voice, so unlike him. “Forgive me if I caused any undue pain to your lips.”
“There is nothing to forgive.” She brushed her fingers across her swollen lips. “They are tender, but it’s a good feeling. Caused by something we shared and enjoyed together.”
“Thank you for saying that, but I should’ve been more gentle.”
“No.” She lifted her head and met his dark-gray eyes. “I want you to be yourself with me. Don’t try to be someone you’re not. There is time for gentleness and time for what we just experienced. Never apologize for being true to your instincts and affections.”
He gently squeezed his arms that were wrapped around her waist. “How’d I get so lucky to find you?”
“I don’t know,” she flirted. “You were at the Westport ball, a beautiful lady on each arm, and I felt bad for you.”
