it is smells delicious. I haven’t had a proper meal in days.”
“It’s liver. I thought you needed building up,” I said.
“Liver and onions. That’s a treat. I’ll have to see if I’ve a bottle of wine that might go with it.”
“But Daniel, first you should probably at least put on your dressing gown,” I suggested.
He looked down at himself, with his bare legs and feet, and had to laugh. “Lord, I must look a sight.”
“Very fetching,” I said. “I had no idea you had such nice ankles, Captain Sullivan.”
“You know very well what my ankles look like, so don’t play the prim miss with me,” he chuckled. “I shall return momentarily.”
He disappeared into his bedroom while I finished cooking the meal. The next time he appeared he was in his thick woolen robe and slippers and his hair was wetted and neatly combed. And we women think that we are the vain sex!
I laid the table while Daniel poured red wine into two goblets. “Here’s to us,” he said, raising his glass in a toast. We clinked glasses. His eyes held mine in a way that was unnerving.
“Don’t let my good food get cold,” I said. He tucked in as if he had been starving.
“Oh, this is so good,” he managed to mumble once. When the plate was clean he put down his knife and fork with a satisfied sigh. “That was so good of you, Molly. I can’t tell you how much I appreciated it.”
“Your actions spoke pretty well for you.” I smiled. “Watching you wolf that down reminded me of my little brothers at home.”
Daniel drained his glass. “Drink up,” he said and refilled his own. “There’s plenty more in the bottle.”
“I don’t think so, thank you.” I was well aware of the effect that wine had on me. “I have to get home. I don’t want to be seen staggering up Patchin Place.”
I stood up and started to clear away the dishes. Daniel grabbed my arm as I reached for his plate. “Don’t go,” he said.
“I have to go. It’s getting late. Chelsea is fairly safe, but . . .”
“Don’t go,” he said again. “Stay here with me. I’ve missed you, Molly. How long has it been since you and I shared more than polite conversation together?”
“Not always so polite,” I reminded him. “Last time we met you were yelling at me, I seem to remember.”
“Only because I care about you,” he said. “You want me to care about you, don’t you?”
“Yes, but . . .”
His other hand encircled my waist and he pulled me down to his lap. “I want you, Molly,” he whispered. “It’s been so long.”
God, if the truth were known, I wanted him too. He was nuzzling at my neck in a way that was disconcerting and I felt myself weakening.
“Oh, no,” I said, attempting to break free of his grip. “You’re not getting me into that bedroom unless and until we’re married.”
“Then let’s get married right away. We’ll find a priest in the morning. Any kind of pastor will do.”
“And you want me to come and live here?”
“I could move into Patchin Place. There’s room enough for two there.”
“I haven’t agreed to marry you yet, Daniel Sullivan,” I said, “and if and when we do marry, I want it done right. My mother settled for less than perfect. She slaved away for four ungrateful males and then she died of exhaustion. What kind of living is that?”
“I’d make everything just right for you,” he whispered, gazing into my eyes with that unnerving look. “I promise. Everything’s going to be perfect.”
“I want it done right, Daniel. A proper proposal, a proper wedding with all the trimmings, and a proper place to live. And we still have some things that need sorting out first.”
“We’ll sort them out as we go. I need a wife, Molly.”
“So that’s it, is it?” This time I did break free and stood up. “You want to make sure that someone is around to cook your dinner every evening, and keep your bed warm too.”
“I need you,” he said simply. “I’ve been on my own long enough. I’ve been through the bleakest time of my life. I’ve been in prison. I’ve been despised and wrongly accused and I’ve lost my father, who was my guiding light. Enough bad things have happened to me. I want something to look forward to.”
“You’ve got your job back,” I said. “That’s a start.”
“I want to get married. Start a family. A home of my