Encounter with Venus (27 page)

“Is that what you think?” He shook his head in amazement. “Do you want to know how you look to me? I find you lovely and bright and witty and charming and generous and gentle and the perfect woman for me.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “I? Perfect for you? You can’t mean it!”

“How can I prove to you that I do?” he asked in frustration.

“You can’t.” She pulled her hands from his grasp, got up, and frowned down at him. “George, I don’t know what maggoty fancy has taken over your brain,” she said in a trembling voice, “but please, be sensible. I’m thirty-five years old!”

“Are you indeed?” He rose and pulled her to him. “Then of course I can’t possibly love you. If, on the other hand, you were thirty-three ...”

She gave a hiccoughing little laugh.

That encouraged him. “Ah, then, you do see you’ve made a silly objection.” Still holding her tightly, he looked down at her. “The only way I’ll let you go, Livy, is if you tell me you don’t love me.”

She lifted her eyes to his face and studied it closely. There was nothing in his expression that was insincere. In fact, the warm glow in his eyes could not be interpreted any other way than true ardor. It made her own eyes fill with tears. “Fool that I am,” she said in a choked voice, nestling her head on his chest, “I do love you, George. I do.”

“Then I see no need to let you go,” he said happily, and he kissed her with all the pent-up ardor she’d seen in his eyes. When at last he let her go, he took a large handkerchief from his pocket and wiped her cheeks. “Do you know, my love,” he murmured, drawing her down beside him on the sofa, “that I almost can’t believe I may now whisper into your ear all the love words I’ve been holding back for ten years?”

He drew her to him, about to embrace her again, but she lifted her head. “What did you mean, ten years?” she asked.

He pulled her back upon his chest. “Hmmm?”

“You said you loved me for ten years. What nonsense is that? We only met a couple of months ago.”

“At which time you took me in immediate dislike,” he murmured, pulling the spinster’s cap from her head and smoothing her hair. “When did you decide you were in love with me?”

“I think I’ve loved you since that first day,” she admitted, “when you looked at me with such aversion. That was two months ago.”

“Two months, eh? You can’t compare yourself to me. It’s true, you know. I
have
loved you for ten years.”

“Don’t be silly. How can you have—?”

“When I was seventeen, I caught a glimpse of you through an open door. It was at Leyton Abbey, the weekend of Felicia’s wedding party. You were rising from a hot bath, all pink and rosy. I never forgot you.”

“Oh, George, really?” Quite moved, she put a hand to his cheek. “How very sweet.” She let herself savor the tale for a moment before she spoke again. “But it’s a long, long time since I was that girl. No wonder you looked so stricken when you saw me at Felicia’s house party.”

“Well, you see, I didn’t get a good glimpse of your face all those years ago, and when I saw you ten years later, your face didn’t match the one my boyish imagination had drawn for you.” He ran a finger down the side of her face and tilted her chin up. “But I’m a man now, my love, and your face has become more beautiful to me than any other.”

That required another embrace. Then he regretfully let her go and stood up. “I think we’d better go to your uncle and break the news. I only hope he doesn’t send for all the new footmen to seize me by the backside and toss me out the door.”

She stood up and, laughing, took his hand. “I don’t think so. He likes you. Do you know, he told me once that he was certain you ‘dauted’ on me? I wouldn’t let myself believe him.”

“Then he won’t make any objection to our marriage,” George said, slipping an arm about her waist and starting toward the door.

“Marriage?” The word somehow surprised her. It hadn’t been said before.

He stopped in his tracks and grinned down at her. “Is the idea of marriage unexpected? Surely you didn’t think I wanted you to be my doxy. You do intend to wed me, don’t you?”

She nodded and buried her face in his chest. “But you do realize, George, that marriage is an ... er... intimate affair?”

“Yes, so I’ve been given to understand.”

She peeped up at him shyly. “That means you will likely see me rising from a tub again. The sight,” she murmured ruefully, “may disappoint you.”

“No, it won’t,” he assured her. “Through these bedazzled eyes, you’ll always be beautiful.” With arms entwined, they ambled to the door. “To tell the truth, Livy, my love,” he whispered in her ear as they left the room, “there’s a seventeen-year-old inside me who can’t wait for the chance to leer at his Venus again.”

FROM OPEN ROAD MEDIA