Free Married: The Virgin Widow by Deborah Hale

concern.
    Steeling himself against Laura’s hostility, he raised his brandy. “Have you decided to join me in a drink?”
    “No. I have two things to tell you.” Laura pushed the door shut and stood with her back to it. “I want to beg your pardon for the way I spoke to you this afternoon. Mama enjoyed her outing, which seems to have done her no harm. Her color is better than I have seen it in a great while.”
    Prepared for criticism, Ford found it hard to hide his surprise at Laura’s frank, sincere apology. “I…never meant to alarm you.”
    He could not bring himself to say he was sorry. That would be an admission he’d done something wrong, which he had not. Neither would he promise to consult her in future. That would seem to be asking her permission. Unlike Cousin Cyrus, who might have indulged his young wife, Ford was determined to be master of his house.
    “What is the other thing you wish to tell me?” The moment the words left his lips, he knew. Laura was about to give him her answer. His gut tightened. What if she refused?
    Inhaling a deep breath, Laura tilted her chin to aresolute angle. “After considering your proposal, I have decided to accept. As you say, it will be a most…convenient arrangement.”
    “Very good.” A gust of elation swelled Ford’s chest. “I shall set out tomorrow for Lambeth to procure a special licence. We can be wed before the week is out.”
    “No!” Laura’s hand flew to her bosom, fingers spread protectively. “That is, I see no need for such a rush. My first wedding was a rather…hasty event. This time I want banns read and our neighbours invited to the wedding.”
    Banns? That would require the vicar to announce their impending marriage on each of the next three Sundays. “Do you think it appropriate to make such a public fuss over a marriage of convenience?”
    “Why not? You said we should get married for the sake of propriety . What could be more proper than having banns read in the local church and all the neighbours witnessing our nuptials?”
    She had him there. Ford acknowledged it with a rueful nod. He had waited seven years already. What would a few more weeks matter? It would give him time to anticipate and savour his approaching victory.
    Rising from his chair, he walked slowly toward Laura. “Shall we seal our betrothal with a kiss?”
    A flicker of alarm leapt in her eyes. For an instant Ford thought she might turn and flee. But why? In every other situation, she had stood up to him, refusing to be intimidated. Why did the prospect of physical contact between them unsettle her so? Did she find him repulsive? She hadn’t used to.
    “A kiss?” she repeated in a tremulous whisper. Then in a firmer voice she added, “Of course…if you wish.”
    “If I desire ,” Ford murmured. “And I do.”
    An arm’s length away from her, he stopped. “Since our last kiss was a rather hasty event, I believe we deserve a proper one this time.”
    Their kiss in the bluebell wood had taken him unawares—shaken him out of his accustomed restraint. This time he was determined to maintain control no matter how powerful the provocation.
    His gaze riveted on Laura’s lips, he reached up to cradle her chin with his fingers. Then he moved closer and lowered his face to hers, tilting her head to meet his approach. She resisted the firm pressure of his touch just enough to stoke the heat of his desire. And when his lips hovered over hers, ready to claim them, the rapid gust of her breath whispered against his skin. He raised his other hand to stroke her neck, relishing the mad flutter of her pulse beneath his fingertips.
    With a sigh of anticipation, he played his lips across hers, barely making contact, savouring the silky friction when he did. Half a dozen times he brushed her mouth, increasing the pressure of each one by a minute degree. On the final pass, he felt her lips part slightly. A bolt of searing satisfaction ripped through him, igniting a fire in his