Kiss Me, Kate by Tiffany Clare Page B

for me to come down.”
    “I was ten—you can’t fault me.”
    “And I was but twelve.” He ran his finger over the side of her cheek. “You bewitched me even then.”
    She nearly pressed forward for another kiss when she recalled he hadn’t made his promise yet. “Your word, good sir.” She twirled out of his reach, intending to head back to the party and leave him behind if he wouldn’t give her the answer she desired to hear most.
    He grabbed her hand before she could escape his reach. “I will go to your father this evening. He’ll not refuse my suit again. Now, kiss me, my darling.”
    Her “maybe” was garbled as their lips met. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he bent her back over his arm. She never wanted to let go.
    There hadn’t been a day since George left that she’d not tried to convince her father how poorly she and Westmoore suited; the man was nearly fifteen years her senior and cared more for his fleet of foxhounds than he did for her. Goodness, Westmoore hadn’t once asked her a personal question in the three years they’d courted. Though courting wasn’t what she would call their outings; the duke took her out three times weekly in his open barouche—Monday, Wednesday, and Friday—at precisely two in the afternoon each of those days, and they never conversed about anything beyond the weather . . . and hunting, because he really did love his foxhounds. Certainly there was a woman for Westmoore, but that woman was not her.
    Kate could never say yes to marriage to a man who didn’t hold her heart in his hands.
    Her fingers threaded through the thick waves of George’s hair.
    Unhurriedly, George pulled back from the kiss and took her hands in his as he stepped away. Kate opened her eyes in slow increments. The past few months had felt like an eternity, but her heart had never wavered—not even for a moment.
    “What have you done to amuse yourself while I’ve been away?”
    They turned down the path, wending their way deeper into the gardens even though they should return to the house party.
    “I’ve been a shadow of myself. And a dreadful bore to anyone who wants to spend an afternoon at tea with me.”
    “I doubt that. You are too happy a nature to ever find yourself in the doldrums.”
    She furrowed her brow, recalling how awful the months had been with him so far away. “I immensely disliked every moment you were away. Tell me about your travels, they must be far more exciting than London before the season when hardly any gossip has had the opportunity to spring up.”
    “It was terribly hot.”
    Her shoulder bumped into his arm. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better about your absence.”
    “I’ll take you to Barbados when you are my wife. It’s much different from England. Life moves a little slower, which might account to the warmer weather. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it a little. We stayed only long enough to get the estate in order and then we were at sea again. The journey home felt longer than the trip there. I counted down the days till I was back by your side.”
    They sat on a long stone bench that overlooked the rolling hills around the house. She pressed right up against his side and leaned her head against his shoulder. He clasped both her hands in his and rested his head atop hers.
    “Once I’ve made my rounds here, I’ll go directly to see your father.”
    “What if he should say no again?” Because it was a possibility, even though she’d talked of nothing but George’s return, much to her father’s chagrin.
    “Then I’ll keep asking. I won’t let this rest.”
    “Your perseverance is charming.”
    “Charming, am I?” He released one of her hands and faced her. “I am going to have to kiss you more thoroughly than before.”
    “You won’t hear a single complaint from me.” Her lips parted in anticipation.
    “Only because you’ll not be able to speak for some minutes.” 
    As his arms came