Authors: Tracy Anne Warren
She sat up. “Really? What would you be doing?”
“Assisting with the postwar rebuilding efforts, coordinating between the British and the French.”
“Oh, it sounds exciting, if you think you’d like it.”
“I think I would, at least enough to give it a try. But it means we would have to move to France, perhaps for several years. I know it’s asking a lot of you, giving up your home and your friends. I know how close you and Violet are.”
Catching her lip between her teeth, she gave the matter a moment of thought. But only a moment. “Of course we shall go.” Leaning down, she kissed him. “Without question, I shall miss Violet and Adrian and the children, but I want to do what’s best for us. Anyway, France isn’t so far, they can come visit.”
Kit smiled, eyes lighting at the idea. “You’re right. With the war done, it’s not such a great journey these days. They can be across the Channel in a thrice.”
“And surely you will get an occasional leave, so we can come home to England.”
“Yes, I am sure I shall. A couple months a year, I believe.”
“If you want the assignment, then all you need do is say yes.”
“All right, then, yes! I shall write to Lord Exmeyer to accept directly when we return home.”
They cheered each other with an exuberant kiss.
“Paris,” she mused. “I’ve never been to Paris. Oh, just think of all the books. Why, there are texts there that have been inaccessible to the rest of the world since before the Revolution. It’s simply thrilling. Violet will be quite jealous.”
“Jealous, is it?” he teased. “I see I shall have to work hard to get you with child.”
“I can still study and have babies, you know.” She paused. “Unless you dislike the notion of having a scholarly wife.”
With a gentle hand, he tumbled her across him. “Of course I do not dislike the idea, not since scholarly pursuits make you happy. Just be available for the occasional dinner party.”
Delight spread through her like rays of morning sun. “I shall accompany you to all the dinner parties of your choosing.” She kissed him. “You are my heart.”
He kissed her back. “And you are my soul. Which means, I guess, that neither of us can do without the other.”
“Quite right.”
He claimed her mouth again, to her immense enjoyment.
“Speaking of books,” he said at length. “I brought one along I thought we might enjoy.”
“Oh, what is that?”
Climbing out of bed, he strolled across the room and reached inside a travel valise. Her eyes widened when she saw what he held, recognizing the familiar green binding. He waggled the volume between his fingers. “I suppose you might call it an old friend. In a way, this helped bring us together.”
Albanino’s Postures.
“But I put that back in the drawing room escritoire,” she sputtered.
“Not this copy. I went to Jeannette’s bookseller and had him locate one just for us. The other volume must still be where you left it, unless Violet decided to retrieve it for her and Adrian’s use, after all.”
“Mercy me.” A rush of color stained her cheeks.
He winked and handed her the book. “Consider this a little wedding present. Not that we actually need the help, but I thought it might be fun.”
“Fun, hmm?” Unable to resist, she opened the book and began to leaf through. She paused at a particularly contorted position. “Do you really think
that
looks fun?”
He peered over her shoulder. “It might, if I were an acrobat. Pick another, then.”
She thumbed through the pages, then thumbed back. “Well, I have to admit number nine looks intriguing.”
He studied the drawing and grinned. “Is that your choice?”
“It is.” She nodded, abruptly shy.
Setting the book onto the nightstand, he opened his arms. “Then come get me, my love.”
On a laugh, she dived toward him, and together they gave number nine a very fine try.
Also by Tracy Anne Warren
The Husband Trap
The Wife Trap
“E
liza.”
“Yes?”
“One last thing,” Kit said. “If your curiosity persists and you find yourself tempted to experiment further in the realm of the physical, don’t go to any of your other suitors. I am still your mentor.” Reaching out, he stroked the edge of a knuckle over the delicate curve of her cheek. “If you wish to have more lessons in love, you need only say. I shall teach you whatever it is you care to learn.”
With a last smile, he strode toward the door, leaving Eliza stock-still in the center of the room.
The Wedding Trap
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
An Ivy Books Mass Market Original
Copyright © 2006 by Tracy Anne Warren
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
I
VY
B
OOKS
and colophon are trademarks of Random House, Inc.
eISBN-13: 978-0-345-49357-6
eISBN-10: 0-345-49357-5
v1.0