Falling for the Marquess - Julianne MacLean Page 0,56
the right price.”
“A week! You’d have me wear something plain or unoriginal?”
“I’d have you wear nothing at all if we could do it in private. Honestly, all that wedding business is just for show. I’ve never cared about what other people think and I would marry you tomorrow in the back garden with only the necessary number of witnesses if you would agree to it.”
She sipped her champagne and spoke with a teasing tone. “Are you afraid I’ll change my mind?”
He pressed a hand to his chest as if he had been shot. “Good God. I hadn’t thought of that. Now that you mention it, I suppose I must consider the possibility. How will I ever keep your interest through the winter, which is so dashedly long and cold?”
“I think the question of the hour is how I will keep your interest,” she replied.
He stopped walking and leaned in closer. “That will be easy. Just smile like that, wear more dresses like that, and every once in a while, send me a lewd letter.”
Clara laughed out loud. The others quieted and glanced at them, then resumed their conversations. Seger and Clara chuckled privately with each other.
“I would give anything to be alone with you right now,” he said softly. “I fear this proper behavior where you are concerned will be the death of me.”
“I wouldn’t want that.”
His gaze smoldered. “Then marry me in September.”
“You are very persistent.”
“When I want something, yes. September?”
“But it is now June. That gives us a little over two months.”
“That’s two months too long. Let’s tell everyone tonight. The wedding will be in September. I can make arrangements for our honeymoon immediately. Would you like to go to Italy? Or perhaps America? You choose, as long as it’s in September.”
She shook her head at him in disbelief. “Do you never give up?”
“Not when it comes to what I want. Will you agree?”
His tenacity was amusing and flattering and left her feeling warm and excited inside. Unable to resist his enticing, pleading expression, she set her empty glass down on a table and grinned wickedly. “Yes.”
“Superb. Now that leaves us two whole months to figure out a way to avoid another scandal.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, concern suddenly clouding her thoughts.
“You don’t expect me to survive that long without kissing you, do you? Did I mention you might be the death of me?”
Clara laughed again and tapped his chest with the tip of her closed fan. “What are we going to do about that?”
He touched her arm where it was bare, just above the top of her glove and below her short, lacy sleeve. She felt instantly aroused and glanced at the others to make sure they weren’t watching.
Seger whispered in her ear. “I still know how to give pleasure without destruction, and I believe you know how to enjoy it. All we require is a location.”
She gazed up at him in disbelief. “You’re not trying to lure me out to your coach in the middle of the night again, are you?”
“Actually, I had somewhere else in mind. Somewhere much more comfortable, but a good deal riskier. How about tomorrow night?”
Could she even pretend not to be interested in hearing his shocking and appalling plan? Not a chance.
Her mouth curled up in a smirk as she flicked open her fan and waved it in front of her face. “All right. I’ll bite. What, pray tell, are the scandalous particulars?”
Seger woke the next morning feeling famished. His future wife was turning out to be a bold and adventurous woman, unlike any of the proper young debutantes he’d met in the past.
He was not sorry, he decided as he sat down in the breakfast room and picked up his newspaper. He needed a woman like her as a wife, someone who would enjoy a little spice in their marriage. Or presently, in their engagement. He could never have married a tame and spiritless young woman. He needed excitement, and Clara, innocent as she was, was proving to him again and again that she suited him absolutely. She had agreed to his shocking proposition—even he thought it was shocking—and he would see her tonight. In private.
Maybe with a few well-timed trysts like these, he would survive until September after all. Though it would be a challenge not to deflower her completely. Could he survive that? He had already plucked a good number of petals.
He looked up from the paper when Gillian walked into the breakfast room. “Good morning,” he