Susan Johnson - Gorgeous As Sin

“Until you don’t mean it.” She softly sighed. “You just want what you want because you can’t have it. Before long-I’ll give you a week-you’ll be appalled at your rash behavior.”

He didn’t want to argue. He didn’t know how to logically or reasonably explain his feelings. He only knew he was vastly content and happy now that she was here with him. “Come, look at the garden,” he invited, wanting to avoid a contentious discussion. He held out his hand. “I’ve learned all the flower names today. Christ, sorry”-he quickly wiped the dirt off his hands on his pant’s legs and offered his hand again.

She couldn’t help but smile, the image of London’s most prodigal rake memorizing flower names and mucking in the dirt an unlikely picture. But vastly endearing. “Then you know more than I do,” she replied in a scrupulously bland tone, banishing the word endearing from her thoughts. But the moment she placed her hand in his and his fingers gently closed on hers, she was warmed heart and soul.

“At the risk of offending you,” he said with a small smile, drawing her down the flagstone path, “I could tell you didn’t know much about flowers from the state of your garden. You’ll find it much improved.”

“I see that, and apparently,” she noted, indicating his besmirched clothes with a sweep of her hand, “you did more than supervise.”

In the past that would have been his opening to suggest a shared bath, but he was walking on eggshells tonight. “Actually, I learned quite a lot today,” he politely said, carefully avoiding anything remotely suggestive of sex. “Did you know each rose plant needs a banana peel under it for fertilizer? ”

“I doubt very many people know that,” Rosalind replied with utter sincerity.

“Well, now we both do. Let’s sit here.” He pointed to a red Chinoiserie garden bench. “You can see most of the garden from this spot and I’ll point out the important roses.” While she sat and he lounged in his usual way, his long legs stretched out before him, his dusty boots planted on the flagstone, his thigh lightly touching hers, an unwanted shiver raced up her spine.

Gratified to feel her small tremor but not about to jeopardize the occasion by pressing his advantage, Fitz said with well-mannered grace, “If you’re interested, I learned in the course of the day and evening that there are what are termed important roses. And it’s not just to do with rarity or expense. It has to do with duration of flowering, size of the blooms, the intensity of fragrance, the reputation of the hybridizer-Pernet-Ducher in Lyon is the best. That white over there is one of his called Aimйe Vibert, and that pink is a bourbon rose called Souvenir de la Malmaison, and the lilac-colored cabbage rose is called Rose de la Reine.” He grinned. “Should I go on? ”

“You amaze me. I doubt your reputation will survive such humble pursuits,” she drolly said, having tamped down her treacherous desires.

“I care nothing for my reputation.” She looked like a schoolgirl in her white blouse and green-striped skirt. An enchantress despite her lack of finery.

“But then you never did, I suppose.”

“If it bothers you, I’ll begin to care,” he quietly said.

“You needn’t concern yourself with what I wish.”

“On the contrary, nothing else matters.”

“Fitz, please.” He was too close, too beautiful, too destructive to her peace of mind.

He liked that she’d spoken his name so softly; he liked the uncertainty in her tone. He particularly liked that he was with her again no matter the circumstances. This afternoon at Mertenside, he’d discovered that at least. “I’m only happy when I’m with you,” he said, husky and low. “I don’t know why; I know less why it matters, but it does. I’m sorry in every possible way for what happened to you while I was in Scotland. I want you to take me back.” Shocking words from a man who had never asked anything of a woman.

“I can’t take you back because I never had you.”

“You did.” His long lashes drifted fractionally lower. “I didn’t know it, but you did.”

“If I were so daft and reckless as to agree, I’d only be hurt in the end. You would vanish one day. You know you would.”

“I don’t think so.”

“See.” She nodded. “I rest my case.”

“I wouldn’t leave. Is that better? ”

“You’re just being accommodating now; you do that well.” She smiled wryly. “It’s your speciality, darling.”

The word darling seared itself into his brain, gave him hope. Not that he’d ever had to deal with repudiation before, and for that reason perhaps he chose to be audacious. Or maybe love made him say what he’d been loath to say before. “I’d be more than willing to accommodate you for the next fifty years or more if you’d let me,” he said, sliding upright on the bench and holding her gaze. “Marry me. I’ll make you happy, my word on it.”

“Are you drunk? ” His proposal was ludicrous.

He shook his head. “I haven’t had a drink since yesterday, and that’s a record. We spoiled, self-indulgent debauchees are rarely sober.” He smiled. “You called me that the first time we met.”

She remembered. “And now you’ve reformed.”

“I believe I have.” He grinned. “I aspire to please your every desire. Above all, I want to make you happy.” He shrugged faintly. “It’s a novel sensation, such high-minded selflessness, but there it is… my irresistible compulsion.”

“Do self-indulgent debauchees attach any significance to love? Not sex, Fitz, love.” She was insane, of course, to ask for so much when he’d promised her marriage. Any other woman would have replied with an unhesitating yes. But after a marriage that had become a casualty of disappointed hopes, she was no longer naive.

“Do you love me? ” he countered.

She looked away. Too many women had loved him, she jealously thought.

Taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he gently turned her head back. “Tell me.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” She would not bestow her heart on a profligate’s whim. How could she even contemplate such lunacy?

“I can’t live without you,” he said, letting his hand drop. “I think of you day and night. I’d keep you in my pocket if I could. And if that’s not love, it’s something close. You’re the world to me.” He ran his fingers through his hair, suddenly restive under the unprecedented circumstances. “And I don’t say that lightly,” he admitted. “You’ve seriously disrupted my life.”

“Maybe it’s time someone did.” Cautious she might be, but Fitz’s sincerity was plain. Was it possible to believe in love again-in a man like Fitz’s declaration of love? In the baffling, sometimes fallible and difficult concept?

“You can fix the disorder in my life, though.” He grinned, immune to difficulties of any kind if she would agree to be his wife. “Just say yes.”

“You’re looking way too smug.” She doubted any woman had ever said no to him.

He quickly swept his hand over his face. “Better? ” But the corners of his mouth were still twitching.

“You can’t always have your way,” she said half-grudgingly. She’d built an independent life for herself the last few years and Fitz was blowing it apart like a wild force of nature.

“Other than having you say yes, I don’t care if I do or not. I’ll willingly take orders,” he said, shocking himself with his unexpected largesse. Next thing he knew, he’d be writing love poems. “Come, make my mother happy,” he quipped, in compensation perhaps for his abnormal compliance. “Marry me.”

She gave him a narrowed look. “This isn’t about your mother.”

“Forgive me. I’ll be serious. But for God’s sake, say yes and put me out of my misery. If it would help with your decision, let me point out that my architect is redrawing my entire neighborhood project. Your store remains where it is; the buildings on both sides will be lowered slightly to allow more light into your garden. And you can have half of the buildings on the block to do with what you will.” He smiled. “I thought you might like to have apartments set up for your poor customers or perhaps a school for the young women you’re helping. But you decide and I’ll have the papers drawn up.”

Suddenly in one fell swoop all her dreams had come true, everything she’d been working for so hard was not only possible but also likely. “It’s all overwhelming, Fitz,” she whispered, scarcely able to breathe.

“No, darling,” he whispered back, taking her hands in his. “You’re the one who’s overwhelming. Truly, I’m at a loss without you. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I wasn’t interested in sex, and until yesterday I’d been drinking myself into an early grave. So when do you want to get married? Tomorrow? Today?” She hadn’t formally agreed, but his talent for reading women was functioning again.

“What do you mean you weren’t interested in sex?” she asked incredulously, the phrase not interested in sex a trumpet blast in her brain.

“You unmanned me, darling. No women looked even remotely interesting. I’ll admit it unnerved me at first, but not enough to actually climb in bed with anyone,” he casually noted. His libido never in doubt, he’d not been unnerved for long.

“Really,” she breathed, his admission the final seal of approval, the ultimate compliment as well.

“Really.” He smiled. “I’ll expect due compensation for my unusual abstinence.”

“Perhaps that can be arranged,” she softly said, no longer unsure or in doubt. “Since you happen to be the love of my life.”

His brows flickered in playful rejoinder. “I was hoping you’d say that. No, I was desperately hoping you’d say that,” he added, not an iota of teasing in his voice this time.

“One more thing-and I apologize for even saying this,” Rosalind noted, but not wanting things left unsaid like they’d been with Edward. “I’d like to go to university.” Maud’s words were still ringing in her ears. Many in the aristocracy viewed higher learning as bourgeoise; she wasn’t sure if Fitz was among them.

“Done.”

“Just like that? ” she whispered.

“I know the provosts at Oxford and Cambridge. I’m a prominent benefactor.”

“It’s truly frightening, Fitz, being offered so much.” She took a small breath against her sudden fear. “What if it all goes away? ”

“I’m not Edward,” he gently said; he’d read all of Hutchinson’s reports. “I promise to love you always. And take care of you.”

“What if… I don’t want… to be taken care of? ”

He smiled at the new modern woman gazing up at him with tears in her eyes. “Then I won’t.” He bent his head and gently brushed her lips with his. “Unless there’s times you want me to.” He kissed her softly. “You tell me when,” he whispered.

Her bottom lip trembled. “How about… now? ”

“I’d love to.” His heart was in his eyes. “And that’s love, love, not sex, darling. And no one knows the difference better than I. Which reminds me, I brought you some rings,” he said, sliding his hand into his trouser pocket. “Don’t get upset,” he quickly added at the sudden set of her mouth. “They’re engagement rings; I was hopeful, not presumptuous. Just hopeful. Here-take your pick.” He held open his hand. “Actually, take them all.”

She’d never seen such enormous, colored diamonds. There must have been six or eight rings sparkling on his palm. “This is too extravagant for a church mouse,” she said with a tremulous smile.

“Nonsense. You’re my city mouse now,” he added with a grin, sliding a large pink diamond on one of her fingers. “There. Do you like it? ”

She took a deep breath and gazed at the ring dwarfing her knuckle. “Who wouldn’t? ” she whispered.

“How about these then? ” He quickly embellished seven more of her fingers with a rainbow of rings.

“I suppose you know this is completely overwhelming.” She included the garden with a sweep of her be-ringed hand, the shock to her system considerable after a life of relative penury. “Does anyone ever say no to you? ”

Fitz laughed. “You forget, my obstinate little darling, that you’ve been saying no to me ever since we met.”

She smiled, feeling less disadvantaged at his reminder. “And you were captivated.”

A teasing light came into his eyes. “That and I wanted to win.”

“And now we both have.”

“Yes,” he softly agreed, knowing full well that only love could have inspired him to change his Monckton Row plans. “So what do you say, my dear Lady Groveland?” he murmured, liking the sound of the designation, liking more that she’d agreed to share her life with him. “Do you think maybe we should start our new life with a bath? ”

THEY WERE MARRIED by special license the following day because Fitz wouldn’t wait. As it turned out, it was a wise decision since Rosalind discovered she was pregnant a week later when she threw up on her new husband as they were breakfasting in bed.