remain private—for many reasons.
Pointedly he turned to Slayde. "We agreed that I might speak with your sister alone."
"Yes, we did." Slayde glanced at Aurora. "Do you have any objections?"
She looked as if she wanted nothing better than to voice some. But in the end curiosity won out. "I have no objections."
"Very well." Slayde snapped open his timepiece, making note of the hour. "Thirty minutes." He headed for the door. "I'll be just down the hall."
Julian waited until the quiet click of the door handle signified they were alone. Then he turned his attention back to Aurora, who was openly studying him, a wary expression on her face. She was even lovelier than he remembered, Julian mused silently. Her features were alive, vibrant, her figure slight yet enticingly curved—as the close-fitting bodice of her morning dress revealed—her eyes as vivid as flawless gems, her hair a shimmering cloud of golden red.
Marriage was beginning to look infinitely appealing.
"Why are you staring at me?" Aurora interrupted his thoughts to demand.
A corner of Julian's mouth lifted. "I could ask you the same question. In my case, I'm staring at you because you're beautiful. And your reason?"
"I'm just … surprised to see you. I'm even more surprised by your proposal. And I'm awaiting an explanation."
He chuckled. "You're not surprised to see me. You watched my arrival from your bedchamber window."
Aurora's jaw dropped—as clear an admission as if she'd spoken it aloud. "Are you sure the name Merlin is derived from the falcon and not the prophet? There seems to be nothing you don't know."
"I'm sure." Julian recaptured her fingers, pressing her palm to his lips. "Speaking of falcons, how is it you know of the merlin?"
"My great-grandfather raised falcons. Our library is filled with books about them. I never leave Pembourne, so I have endless hours to read. Why do you want to marry me?"
Her forthrightness was almost as bewitching as her beauty.
And her revelation supplied yet another piece of an ever-growing puzzle—one Julian was determined to solve.
"Why do I want to marry you?" he murmured truthfully. "Many reasons. This is one." He kissed the pulse at her wrist.
"Stop." She jerked her hand from his, clutching the folds of her lilac morning dress and tilting her head back to meet his gaze. "Your Grace…"
"Julian," he corrected.
"Julian. From what I know of you, you're a very independent man who spends his life sailing the world on one adventure or another. In addition, judging from that barmaid's reaction to you last night, I doubt you're ever at a loss for willing female companionship."
"I notice you haven't yet mentioned that I'm a Bencroft."
"I was getting to that. Your name—and mine—are the best reasons for us to stay as far apart as possible. So why are you here asking for my hand?"
Her spirit, her candor—she was the most innocently arousing woman he'd ever met, Julian decided. He captured a strand of her hair, rubbed its silky texture between his fingers, consciously aware of the fact that he couldn't seem to stop touching her. "Aside from the minor detail that we were discovered at the village tavern, in a private room, on a bed, and in each other's arms? Very well, Rory." Another grin. "Let's explore my reasons by employing that extraordinary honesty of yours. Can you tell me you didn't feel what I felt when we kissed?"
"Can you tell me you've never experienced that feeling before?"
"Yes. I can tell you I've never experienced that feeling before." Even as he uttered the words, Julian knew they were true.
Aurora searched his face, as if trying to assess his sincerity and his motives.
"Shall I be more specific?" Julian probed huskily. "Very well. I scarcely tasted your mouth and I burst into flames. I couldn't get enough of you—your taste, your scent, the feel of you in my arms. I lost all sense
Pointedly he turned to Slayde. "We agreed that I might speak with your sister alone."
"Yes, we did." Slayde glanced at Aurora. "Do you have any objections?"
She looked as if she wanted nothing better than to voice some. But in the end curiosity won out. "I have no objections."
"Very well." Slayde snapped open his timepiece, making note of the hour. "Thirty minutes." He headed for the door. "I'll be just down the hall."
Julian waited until the quiet click of the door handle signified they were alone. Then he turned his attention back to Aurora, who was openly studying him, a wary expression on her face. She was even lovelier than he remembered, Julian mused silently. Her features were alive, vibrant, her figure slight yet enticingly curved—as the close-fitting bodice of her morning dress revealed—her eyes as vivid as flawless gems, her hair a shimmering cloud of golden red.
Marriage was beginning to look infinitely appealing.
"Why are you staring at me?" Aurora interrupted his thoughts to demand.
A corner of Julian's mouth lifted. "I could ask you the same question. In my case, I'm staring at you because you're beautiful. And your reason?"
"I'm just … surprised to see you. I'm even more surprised by your proposal. And I'm awaiting an explanation."
He chuckled. "You're not surprised to see me. You watched my arrival from your bedchamber window."
Aurora's jaw dropped—as clear an admission as if she'd spoken it aloud. "Are you sure the name Merlin is derived from the falcon and not the prophet? There seems to be nothing you don't know."
"I'm sure." Julian recaptured her fingers, pressing her palm to his lips. "Speaking of falcons, how is it you know of the merlin?"
"My great-grandfather raised falcons. Our library is filled with books about them. I never leave Pembourne, so I have endless hours to read. Why do you want to marry me?"
Her forthrightness was almost as bewitching as her beauty.
And her revelation supplied yet another piece of an ever-growing puzzle—one Julian was determined to solve.
"Why do I want to marry you?" he murmured truthfully. "Many reasons. This is one." He kissed the pulse at her wrist.
"Stop." She jerked her hand from his, clutching the folds of her lilac morning dress and tilting her head back to meet his gaze. "Your Grace…"
"Julian," he corrected.
"Julian. From what I know of you, you're a very independent man who spends his life sailing the world on one adventure or another. In addition, judging from that barmaid's reaction to you last night, I doubt you're ever at a loss for willing female companionship."
"I notice you haven't yet mentioned that I'm a Bencroft."
"I was getting to that. Your name—and mine—are the best reasons for us to stay as far apart as possible. So why are you here asking for my hand?"
Her spirit, her candor—she was the most innocently arousing woman he'd ever met, Julian decided. He captured a strand of her hair, rubbed its silky texture between his fingers, consciously aware of the fact that he couldn't seem to stop touching her. "Aside from the minor detail that we were discovered at the village tavern, in a private room, on a bed, and in each other's arms? Very well, Rory." Another grin. "Let's explore my reasons by employing that extraordinary honesty of yours. Can you tell me you didn't feel what I felt when we kissed?"
"Can you tell me you've never experienced that feeling before?"
"Yes. I can tell you I've never experienced that feeling before." Even as he uttered the words, Julian knew they were true.
Aurora searched his face, as if trying to assess his sincerity and his motives.
"Shall I be more specific?" Julian probed huskily. "Very well. I scarcely tasted your mouth and I burst into flames. I couldn't get enough of you—your taste, your scent, the feel of you in my arms. I lost all sense
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