Page 36 of A Sporting Affair (The Corinthians #1)
Rafe awoke with a start. His eyes darted in the darkness of his bedchamber. All was quiet. Must have been a dream. Settling back into the comfort of his pillow, he closed his eyes and relaxed.
Thump .
He tensed and sat up, searching the room for movement, light, anything. Being a moonless night, he could not make out much in the room. Only the faintest of starlight shone in the sky through the open window. He strained to listen.
Creak .
The sound came from outside the window. His first thoughts were of Otis and Noel. One or both were up to no good. Should he stop them? Hushed voices could be heard; he would guess from the ground. Groaning, he tossed back the sheets. Not the best night for them to choose mischief.
The creaking increased double-time, like someone ascending the stairs, only outside his window rather than outside his bedchamber door. Then the creaking stopped. A furtive whisper hissed from below. A verbal exchange occurred, two quarrelling whispers, followed by silence. Creaking resumed.
Rafe, still in bed, stared with furrowed brows at the window. What the devil were his brothers up to?
The faint silhouette of a head appeared an inch above the windowsill. A flailing hand followed. Then a squeak. An urgent whisper from the ground preempted a rising mass of curls as the owner of said curls struggled to gain purchase of the windowsill.
Lacing his fingers behind his head, he leaned against the headboard and watched the theatrical, thoroughly entertained and endlessly curious about the turn of events. A coup de théatre if ever he saw one.
Not long did he have to wait before an arm hooked itself over the windowsill and hauled up the body that went with it—lovingly silhouetted against the night sky; the only disappointment being the missing moonlight to highlight the assets. He held motionless when his burglar peered into the room. Satisfied by the stillness, the figure mounted the sill.
Only when one leg was solidly over with a foot planted on the rug and two hands holding steady did Rafe speak.
“What ho! Am I being burgled?”
The figure froze, lost her balance, and tumbled into the room with a screech.
Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, he rushed to the fallen shadow to offer his hand.
The shadow hissed, “You s-s-startled me! I could have fallen to my death!”
“Says the burglar creeping into my chamber window in the dead of night.” He helped his midnight caller stand. “Shall I light a candle, mademo iselle ?”
“No!” She choked on the word.
“We’re to conference in the dark?”
“You’re not dressed,” came the strangled words.
“I most certainly am. In my nightshirt. One moment and I’ll don a banyan.” As he did just this, he said, “You know, if you’re taking up sneaking into gentlemen’s bedchambers at night, you ought not be shocked to find them in a state of undress. Stands to reason, yes?” Returning to her side, he snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her against him. She protested but only halfheartedly. “What is it you wish to burgle? No, wait, don’t tell me. My heart?”
“You are ruining my pretty speech,” she protested petulently.
He nuzzled her neck, his arms tightening. “By all means, orate.”
Perhaps unfair of him to disturb her concentration, but really, what did she expect after tumbling headlong into his bedchamber in the wee hours? He brushed his lips against her neck, working his way up and along the curve of her face, tracing her beauty with his amor.
“I—I—you—you can’t go to London,” she stammered.
“No?” he asked as he kissed the corners of her mouth.
“No! I mean, not until… not until I make my confession. And then… then…”
He smothered whatever she was trying to say with his lips.
When she melted against him, he prompted, “You were saying?”
“Mmm. That was lov—”
He returned to her lips again for a deeper kiss. Only when she was quite breathless did he ease his ardor. He did not, however, release her, merely softened his embrace.
With a nudge of his nose against her cheek, he reminded, “You were confessing something, I believe. Explaining why I shouldn’t go to London.”
“You should. Yes, you must, but not to stay. That is, not unless you wish to. What I have to say might change that, but… do you wish to go to London?”
“Genevieve, love, we are in pari delicto . Let us not equivocate, not now. I’m leaving for London in a few hours for my Call ceremony. When I return, and believe me, I will return with all the haste Alfgar will afford me, I’m going to marry you. Why? Because I’m so deeply in love with you, I would rather a lifetime of three-legged races by your side than a seat at the King’s Bench. Deeply in love doesn’t do my feelings justice, does it? I love you, more so when you quarrel with me and lead me a merry dance, but most especially because I know you love me, too, though you’re too proud to admit it.”
“Am not,” she protested with a giggle as he returned to kissing the side of her neck.
“Not in love with me?” He nibbled her earlobe.
“Of course I love you. I meant I’m not too proud. And you’re a dastardly villain to have stolen my confession from me!” She pinched his arm. “ I was to say it first!”
“You did.”
“What? No, I didn’t.” Her words weakened into a soft sigh as he continued his ministrations.
“Mmm. Yes, you did. When you climbed over the windowsill.”
“Oh? Did I?” The words were whispered on another breathy exhale.
“ Amor vincit omnia ,” he said.
As he parted his lips to translate, another head appeared over the windowsill.
A shrill squeal shattered their romance. “Genevieve! You were supposed to confess your interesting condition, not ki ss him!”
Rafe arched a perplexed eyebrow at Miss Cecilia first, then turned back to question Genevieve. Interesting condition?
The latter pressed two fingers to his lips. This time, it was she who was interrupted. His bedchamber door swung open to Gran holding a candlestick, his parents behind her, waving various items that might be used as defense against a burglar, and both his brothers ogling at the two women in Rafe’s bedchamber.
Rafe sighed. “Oh, dear me. It appears we’ve been compromised.”
Genevieve said, “You’ll have to marry me now.” Before anyone could respond, least of all Rafe, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him to seal their betrothal for all to see.