“I should speak to your father first.”
“So today this is our secret.”
He was sure that he looked completely moonstruck. Why not? He was. “Aye.”
Her hold tightened. “I like that.”
He raised her hand to his lips. “You’ve made me the happiest man in England.” He paused. “And Scotland.”
“I’m rather pleased myself.” Then typically her attention turned to practical matters. “You need to put on your costume.”
Bess Farrar had promised to marry him, and the whole world turned to Christmas. “Just one more kiss.”
“We’re going to be so late,” she said, without her usual conviction.
He edged her back a few paces. “It’s your fault. You found the mistletoe.”
“Oh, you’re a devil,” she whispered before his lips captured hers.
Silently he vowed lifelong devotion. He wondered if she sensed his pledge, because when he raised his head, her eyes were misty.
With a tenderness that jammed the breath in his throat, she touched his cheek. “I’m going to love being your wife.”
But did that mean she loved him? Another rap on the door proved this wasn’t the moment to find out.
They had time. Praise heaven, they had the rest of their lives.
“Curse our obligations. I want you to myself.” He crossed the room and flung on Joseph’s striped robe. Then he unbolted the door. Dr. Simpson stood on the step, looking knowing, while the people lined up in the snow watched with unconcealed curiosity.
“Are you ready?” Rory whispered to Bess when she joined him in the doorway.
“I’m ready for anything as long as you’re with me.”
How he loved the proud tilt of her chin. “Then let’s hoist our sails and set our course for new lands, sweetheart.”
He strode out to join his people, the woman he loved by his side.
***
Bess slipped out of the crowded, noisy hall onto Penton Abbey’s dark front step. Her heart raced with such excitement, it was like having a hundred Christmas candles burning bright inside her.
Carefully she closed the door. She didn’t want anyone to follow. Earlier there had been a moon, but now the sky clouded over for more snow. Behind her, she heard the scratch of fiddles and the villagers’ whoops and stamping feet as they danced to celebrate Christmas Day. Although by now, it was well into Christmas night. Everyone was having far too much fun to go home after the new earl’s magnificent feast.
“Just where are you off to so late, my bonnie lassie?” Rory drawled, emerging from the shadows beside the door and catching her hand.
Bess laughed, as much from happiness as amusement, and let him draw her down to stand in the snow in front of the house. “I can’t delay. I’m off to meet a pirate, good sir.”
“The scurvy rascal will have to wait,” Rory said. “I’ve got plans for you first.”
He swooped down for a kiss. Immediate, now familiar passion ignited. She curved into his tall, strong body, at last free to express her aching longing. It felt like an eon since he’d last kissed her, and she sank blissfully into the heated demand of his lips. This was the first chance they’d had to be alone since yesterday’s proposal.
The play had proven a great success, and while she and Rory hadn’t said a whisper about their engagement, pointed looks from her neighbors hinted that the village’s gossip mill whirred away as usual. Even Daisy seemed to understand that this was a special day, and she’d been a perfect angel. Unfortunately the human angels hadn’t been quite so exem
plary. Sally Potts had forgotten her lines when she announced her good tidings to the shepherds, and a brawl between Mrs. Hallam’s twin boys had disrupted the heavenly host’s chorus of hallelujahs.
“I missed you so much,” she whispered, twining her arms around him.
“Oh, my darling—” He dragged her up for more kisses. “Damn it, we can’t stay long.”