Magical Weddings by Leigh Michaels, Aileen Harkwood, Eve Devon, Raine English, Tamara Ferguson, Lynda Haviland, Jody A. Kessler, Jane Lark, Bess McBride, L. L. Muir, Jennifer Gilby Roberts, Jan Romes, Heather Thurmeier, Elsa Winckler, Sarah Wynde
Authors: Leigh Michaels, Aileen Harkwood, Eve Devon, Raine English, Tamara Ferguson, Lynda Haviland, Jody A. Kessler, Jane Lark, Bess McBride, L. L. Muir, Jennifer Gilby Roberts, Jan Romes, Heather Thurmeier, Elsa Winckler, Sarah Wynde
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furniture?” Celia knew she sounded tart, but she didn’t care.
“I’m not saying this very well, am I?”
“You could use practice before you go out into the Marriage Mart, yes.”
“Very well.” He took a deep breath. “You weren’t just Celia anymore. I saw the way the gentlemen reacted to you, and I listened to them talk about your glorious hair and your wonderful laugh.”
“They did? What else did they say?”
He bit back a smile. “Celia, I’m trying to woo you here, but if you’d rather I tell you what every other man at this party thinks of you… That’s one of the things I love, you know–the fact that you so seldom do or say or think what I expect.”
Love
? She wasn’t certain she’d heard right.
“I was amused at first, and shamefully slow to realize what was happening–even though I found myself wanting to push all of them away and tell them you were mine. I never expected to find myself feeling romantic about a girl I’ve known since pigtail days, so I didn’t realize I was experiencing good old-fashioned jealousy.”
“Over me?” Her voice was little more than a breath.
“Over you, Celia. As it turns out, it’s always been you. Your hair
is
glorious and your laugh
is
wonderful, but that’s not what I love. It’s your sharp sense of humor and the fact that you’re a lady without being in the least stuffy about it. And then there’s your infectious giggle–the one that makes me smile even when I most want to wring your neck.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“Because it wouldn’t have been fair to you to interfere, not to let you make your own choice. I really did try to stand back and let you get to know them all.” He brushed a tendril of hair back from her face with a gentle hand. “But also I was afraid to tell you what I’d discovered in my own heart. Afraid you didn’t feel the same way, because telling you I’d fallen in love with you would mean we could never go back to that old, easy way we had.”
“That
old, easy way
where you felt entitled to tease the life out of me?”
“Guilty–but you did laugh when Uncle Rupert suggested we might marry.”
She couldn’t deny it. Only now did she recall the odd, fleeting expression which had crossed Simon’s face when she giggled at the very idea. “Is
that
how you look when you want to wring my neck? I’ll have to remember.”
“Very wise of you to make a note of it. When I finally did speak, I made you a dry, chilly, practical, sensible offer, instead of telling you that I’ve fallen madly in love.”
“Simon Montrose as a romantic figure? I’m too stunned to take it all in, I think.”
“Am I being foolish, Celia? You haven’t answered me.”
Celia was so euphoric she was having trouble drawing a full breath, but she kept her voice calm. “Perhaps Lady Stone is a fairy godmother, after all. There must have been something magical going on this week, for both of us to suddenly see the truth in ways we never could before. In ways we might never have recognized if not for this party.” She looked up at him. “I had no idea until we came here that it’s you I love, Simon. You’re the only man I could ever love.”
Simon took her hands and drew her close. She gasped as his arms closed around her, but willingly lifted her face for his kiss.
His mouth was soft against hers, gentle rather than demanding, and then as she responded he asked for more and she willingly gave it. She’d had no idea a kiss could be like this–hot and all-consuming, tasting of summertime and ale, promising delights and making her wonder how long it would be before they could be married.
Lady Stone’s gravelly voice broke through Celia’s warm sensual haze. “Are you two almost finished?”
Celia’s squeak was the only sound she was capable of making. How had she ended up leaning against a tree, feeling rumpled and confused and out of breath and entirely wonderful, with Simon’s breath warm against her
“I’m not saying this very well, am I?”
“You could use practice before you go out into the Marriage Mart, yes.”
“Very well.” He took a deep breath. “You weren’t just Celia anymore. I saw the way the gentlemen reacted to you, and I listened to them talk about your glorious hair and your wonderful laugh.”
“They did? What else did they say?”
He bit back a smile. “Celia, I’m trying to woo you here, but if you’d rather I tell you what every other man at this party thinks of you… That’s one of the things I love, you know–the fact that you so seldom do or say or think what I expect.”
Love
? She wasn’t certain she’d heard right.
“I was amused at first, and shamefully slow to realize what was happening–even though I found myself wanting to push all of them away and tell them you were mine. I never expected to find myself feeling romantic about a girl I’ve known since pigtail days, so I didn’t realize I was experiencing good old-fashioned jealousy.”
“Over me?” Her voice was little more than a breath.
“Over you, Celia. As it turns out, it’s always been you. Your hair
is
glorious and your laugh
is
wonderful, but that’s not what I love. It’s your sharp sense of humor and the fact that you’re a lady without being in the least stuffy about it. And then there’s your infectious giggle–the one that makes me smile even when I most want to wring your neck.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“Because it wouldn’t have been fair to you to interfere, not to let you make your own choice. I really did try to stand back and let you get to know them all.” He brushed a tendril of hair back from her face with a gentle hand. “But also I was afraid to tell you what I’d discovered in my own heart. Afraid you didn’t feel the same way, because telling you I’d fallen in love with you would mean we could never go back to that old, easy way we had.”
“That
old, easy way
where you felt entitled to tease the life out of me?”
“Guilty–but you did laugh when Uncle Rupert suggested we might marry.”
She couldn’t deny it. Only now did she recall the odd, fleeting expression which had crossed Simon’s face when she giggled at the very idea. “Is
that
how you look when you want to wring my neck? I’ll have to remember.”
“Very wise of you to make a note of it. When I finally did speak, I made you a dry, chilly, practical, sensible offer, instead of telling you that I’ve fallen madly in love.”
“Simon Montrose as a romantic figure? I’m too stunned to take it all in, I think.”
“Am I being foolish, Celia? You haven’t answered me.”
Celia was so euphoric she was having trouble drawing a full breath, but she kept her voice calm. “Perhaps Lady Stone is a fairy godmother, after all. There must have been something magical going on this week, for both of us to suddenly see the truth in ways we never could before. In ways we might never have recognized if not for this party.” She looked up at him. “I had no idea until we came here that it’s you I love, Simon. You’re the only man I could ever love.”
Simon took her hands and drew her close. She gasped as his arms closed around her, but willingly lifted her face for his kiss.
His mouth was soft against hers, gentle rather than demanding, and then as she responded he asked for more and she willingly gave it. She’d had no idea a kiss could be like this–hot and all-consuming, tasting of summertime and ale, promising delights and making her wonder how long it would be before they could be married.
Lady Stone’s gravelly voice broke through Celia’s warm sensual haze. “Are you two almost finished?”
Celia’s squeak was the only sound she was capable of making. How had she ended up leaning against a tree, feeling rumpled and confused and out of breath and entirely wonderful, with Simon’s breath warm against her
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