Page 105 of A Murder at Kew Gardens

“Take as long as you wish, Your Grace. A day, a month. Not a year, though. I may be married to Selfgren by then.” She shrugged. “If not him, then some other lord.”

I gritted my teeth. “You are a witch.”

She smiled, almost.

“What about Petunia?” I asked. “She came to Steele House this morning. Told me to stop being silly—yes, she used that word—and demanded I ask you to marry me.”

Her mouth twitched. “She would do such a thing.”

“When I left Steele House, she was measuring her bedchamber for new curtains. Apparently, the current ones belong to the last century.”

“She can order new curtains at the Selfgren estate as well.”

“She adores me.”

“You have me there. But she’ll come to like Lord Selfgren well enough. And she would be the older, wiser sister to his children. She’ll enjoy bossing them around.”

While I wrestled with my demons, she said, “Well, I really must return to my packing, Your Grace. So much still to do. Thank you for your offer. But as it stands, I’m afraid I must decline. Have a pleasant trip to Thornburn Abbey.”

She opened the door an inch. I slammed it shut again, and then my voice softened. “I don’t want to lose you in childbirth, Rosalynd.”

She faced me once more. “You won’t.” She was being soft and kind. Her answer almost drove me to my knees.

“You don’t know that,” I said in a tortured voice.

“I do.” She slid her hand inside my coat and placed it over my heart, every beat of which was racing wildly for her. “I won’t allow anything to take me away from you. Say yes. Say you’ll give me children.”

She remained still while I weighed my fears against my desperate need for her. But there really was no contest. I loved her. If that was the price she demanded to have her in my life, so be it.

“I’ll do my level best to give you children, Rosalynd.”

Her eyes glimmered with emotion. “Promise?”

I nodded. “I promise.”

“Then yes, Steele⁠—”

“Warwick,” I murmured against her mouth.

“Yes, Warwick, I will marry you.”

I kissed her before the last word had finished leaving her mouth.

She gave a startled sound against my lips and then she was kissing me back, fiercely, both her hands fisted in the lapels of my coat as though she meant to keep me there by force. There was no need. I was not going anywhere. Right here next to her was where I belonged.

Her mouth opened under mine. I bent her back against the door and kissed her as I had never kissed her before.

I pulled back enough to look at her. Her hair was coming undone in earnest now, one copper coil loose against her throat. Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes were enormous.

“I love you,” I said.

“I know,” she answered back.

Oh, she truly was a witch.

With a full-throated laugh, I lifted her clean off the floor, and spun her, once, twice, three times. The morning room wheeled around us in a blur of damask and sunlight, while her hands gripped my shoulders, and her skirts swung wide. Some small piece of furniture went over with a clatter. I did not look, or care, to see what it was.

"Warwick!”