Page 17 of Until I’m Safe in Your Arms

Before they moved out of earshot, Grandfather tugged on Alex’s arm and he stopped.

“Congratulations, my boy. You chose very wisely.”

Chapter Seven

“And you’re certain you didn’t mind?”

Alex had asked Emma that same question at least twenty times since they’d boarded the train in Hampshire. Now they were in the hack, heading for their newly rented home, and he apparently still wasn’t convinced. Her answer had been the same each time, but she was getting weary replying. “Alex, how many times do I have to tell you no, I don’t mind that you wagered you would marry within the year nor that you further wagered you would be the first to marry. I wouldn’t even have cared if you had wagered you would marry me in particular.” She cocked her head at him. “That wasn’t part of the wager, was it?”

Shaking his head, Alex mumbled, “No.”

“And it wouldn’t have mattered if it had been.” She grasped his chin and guided his face until he looked straight at her. “I told you before, I set my cap for you the moment I saw you from up on the staircase.”

“But why?” He peered at her, his brow furrowed like rows of corn turned by a plow. “Why would you do such a thing?”

While it was on the tip of her tongue to say, “It was your regimentals,” she thought better of that, but told the truth nevertheless. “What young lady with a grain of sense wouldn’t find a handsome young man, so dashing in his uniform, attractive?” She ran her hand through his hair. “Especially one with such dark, curly hair.”

He grabbed her hand and kissed it, sending a wave of warmth up her arm. “You won’t regret marrying me, Emma. I swear it.”

Gazing into his earnest face, her heart ached. Theirs might not be a love match, as other young ladies she knew of boasted, but they would be happy together. Of that she’d make certain. “No, Alex.” She squeezed his hand. “I never will, my dear.”

They rode on in companionable silence for another few blocks until the carriage pulled up in front of a tall red-brick townhouse, white marble steps leading up to the carved oak door with brass knocker. Emma craned her head back, staring up at the three-storied building. “Are we living here?”

“Thanks to Uncle Jack. He insisted on taking it for us until my regiment gets its next assignment.” Alex bounded down from the carriage and offered her his hand. “We should remain in London for the next three months at least, so I’ve been told. After that, Mrs. Bancroft,” he grabbed her up in his arms before she could take a step, “you will be following the drum to wherever I go.”

“Ahhgh! Alex, what are you doing?”

He whirled her around on the pavement before running up the steps and pounding on the door. “Carrying you across the threshold, as any proper groom would do to his bride.”

Well, that was quite romantic. Perhaps things were looking up.

The door opened on a servant whose brows flew upward. “Captain Bancroft?”

“Yes…uh, you’re the butler?” Alex smiled and shifted his weight back and forth as though eager to move forward.

“Yes, Buckleigh, sir.”

“Good. Buckleigh, see to the bags, please. The rest of Mrs. Bancroft’s things will arrive in a day or two.”

“Very good, sir.” The butler stepped aside nimbly as Alex pushed past him into the foyer so abruptly Emma had to throw her arms around his neck to keep herself from falling.

“I see someone is eager to see our new home.” She was so close to his face she could see the flash of fire in his eyes.

“You are correct.” He slid her down the front of him, every inch of them touching until her feet landed on the black tile floor of the foyer. “Would you like to explore it with me?”

“Yes.” Her voice breathy from the intimate contact, Emma nodded as well. The afternoon sun streamed through the windows in the parlor to the right. Long hours before the darkness of the night would signal it was time for them to engage in even more intimacies. Sighing, she took his hand. At least they could endure the wait together. She stuck her head into the room. “I suppose this is the parlor.”

The walls were painted a bright sandy beige and half the room sported bookcases filled with books. The windows were decorated with delightful medallions of stained glass that looked like a medieval shield of blue and yellow. A masculine touch, but she liked it. It was furnished with a brown leather sofa and chair, a Queen Anne chair in blue near a matching lady’s writing desk in the corner, and a blue-and-green flowered chaise before the fireplace. The wooden floors might benefit from a good quality carpet, perhaps a blue and cream Aubusson.

“Or a library.” Alex pulled her over to one of the bookcases and ran a hand over the bindings. “This could easily be turned into a gentleman’s room.”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On what would then become the lady’s room.”

He grinned at her and pulled her in for a kiss. “Fair enough, my lady.” Insistent lips on hers took her breath away. “Let us see what the rear of the house holds.” He took her hand and Emma was hard pressed to keep up. She’d felt that kiss down to her toes and her knees were still weak.