Sweet Rogue of Mine (The Survivors #9) - Shana Galen Page 0,117
time we kissed? Perhaps when we sat on the front lawn and laughed together.”
Nash frowned at her. “You seem quite confident I do love you. Are you certain you need to hear this?”
“Quite.”
“Very well.” He thought for a moment as he hadn’t tried to pinpoint exactly when he had fallen in love with her. It seemed he was in love with her before he knew he felt anything at all. “I believe it was when I heard you singing that bawdy tune on your way through the informal gardens,” he said.
“No! You didn’t even know me then.”
Nash held out his hand, and she took it.
“I knew I had to love any woman singing a song like that so confidently and loudly.”
“Be serious.”
“Pru, I am serious. I loved you from the first moment I met you.” He hadn’t thought words like those would be so easy to say. He didn’t even feel like an idiot saying them. He wanted to say it all over again. “I love you. Prudence Howard, I love you.”
She went into his arms, resting her head on his chest. “And I love you, Nash Pope.” She kissed him and after a while, quite a long while, he drew back.
“You didn’t tell me when you fell in love with me.”
“I think it was a gradual thing,” she said. “I can’t pinpoint a day.”
Nash blew out a breath. “If I’d known I could give that as an answer—”
“But I think it began,” she interrupted, “the day we first saw the peacock.”
“You and the peacock. I half think you’re marrying me for that bird.”
“I am marrying you for that bird. He’s magnificent.”
“I might have known.”
She hit him lightly. “It wasn’t the bird that started it, though. It was the feeling I had when I was with you. I wanted to feel it again, to be in your presence again. I think I came up with the idea to teach you night writing just to have an excuse to be with you.”
“I’m shocked.”
“You should be,” she said, running a hand through his hair and kissing him. “You have no idea the feminine wiles I might use on you.”
Nash pulled her close. “I am eager to find out.”
Epilogue
She was married with flowers in her hair. Mrs. Northgate said she looked like a perfect heathen, and it was the loveliest compliment Pru had ever received. She’d worn a green dress she’d made herself—well, she’d had a bit of help from Mrs. Blimkin and Mrs. Northgate—staying up late too many nights sewing small flowers on the hem. She’d described the dress to Nash in excruciating detail and he’d pretended to listen. He was much more interested in stealing kisses, and she hadn’t minded at all since it had been a long winter. Their spring wedding couldn’t come soon enough.
And now she was a married woman, Pru thought as she looked out the window of Nash’s bedchamber. It had been refurbished with new pieces, her favorite of which was the tall four poster bed. And not just because Nash was lying on said bed telling her to join him.
“In a moment,” she said with a smile and peered outside again.
Afternoon was fading, casting a soft glow on the well-manicured lawns as well as the riot of flowers she’d planted. She’d felt guilty at the expense as Nash couldn’t see them to enjoy them, but he said he could smell them, and the scent reminded him of her.
The lawns were empty now, but this morning they had been full of guests at the wedding breakfast. It had been a perfect spring day.
Nash came up behind her and wrapped his arms about her. “What are you looking at?” he asked.
“Just remembering,” she said.
“We only escaped the last guests twenty minutes ago,” Nash pointed out.
She poked an elbow into his abdomen. “That last guest was my sister and Rose. We didn’t need to escape them.”
“Rose wasn’t climbing all over you,” Nash objected.
“You made the mistake of turning her upside down,” Pru pointed out. “She’ll want you to do it over and again until your arms ache.”
“Now you tell me.” He held her for a long moment as the spring breeze ruffled her hair. “I like your sister. Did you miss your parents?”
“No. Anne was the only one I wanted here, and Mrs. Northgate.” She’d written to her parents and told them she was marrying, but she hadn’t received a letter back. She half wondered if she would ever see them again.