The Virgin at Goodrich Hall by Danielle Lisle Page A

not diminish. “You cannot know how pleased I am to hear you speak those words,” he said, and removed one of his hands from around hers to pull a small box from his waistcoat.
    “This was my grandmother’s. She gave it to me when I turned fifteen, two weeks before she died,” Victor said, placing the box in her hands. “I want you to wear it, always.”
    Margaret’s hands shook as she opened the box, the soft fabric smooth under her fingertips. The groan of the hinges was the only sound in the room until her breath caught.
    Settled in white fabric sat a grand ruby, surrounded by several diamonds. She had never seen such a striking piece of jewellery. “It is stunning,” she whispered.
    “Not as stunning as you,” he said as he picked up the ring and took her left hand, sliding it on to the second finger from the end. He rolled her fingers down, closing her hand into a fist, and ran his thumb over the ring. “I never thought I would find a woman to whom I wanted to give this. I cared for my grandmother dearly, and she told me only to give it to a woman I could envision spending the rest of my life with.”
    Her heart skipped a beat.
    “You are that woman, Maggie.”
    Tears streamed down her cheeks. She could not stop them, though she did not try.
    “Will you become my wife?” he asked, dropping her hands and raising his to her face, where he cradled her cheeks in his palms. “Will you spend the rest of your life with me?”
    “Yes,” she whispered. “But we must leave now.”
    His grin of pleasure narrowed slightly as she added her final words. “Leave?”
    “Yes. Father will not understand, but he will be able to do nothing if we go to Scotland and marry before he discovers us.”
    Victor pulled her close, settling her over his lap before he wiped away the tears on her cheeks. “I have already spoken with your father. He gave his blessing this afternoon.”
    She sat there stunned for a moment, thinking back to her father’s carefree and joyous manner when she had returned from shopping. “He said nothing of it.”
    Victor’s lips twitched. “I asked him not to. I told him I was going to ask you this evening when we dined with Lord and Lady Belfort.”
    “Where are they?”
    He shrugged and smiled devilishly. “I do not know. Belfort House, perhaps?”
    She blushed slightly at the thought of his rakish behaviour, but leant forward, finally doing what she wished. She caressed his lips with hers, his groan urging her on as he pulled her closer to him.
    “Where is your chamber, my betrothed?” Margaret whispered as she moved her mouth to the softer skin of his ear.
    She squealed, then followed it up with giggles as he lifted her off the settee, carrying her at a fast clip out of the room, through the foyer and up the stairs. Within moments, the click of a closing door signalled their privacy before he settled her onto the softness of a bed, his weight coming down on top of her.
    “Your father requested a six-month engagement, but I quickly talked him out of that. In two months you will be my wife,” he murmured into the hollow of her throat before his lips kissed it.
    Pleasure coursed through her, her nipples beading in her corset, her need to become one with this man at the forefront of her mind. He wanted her for her, not for her money.
    “But we can wait, if you wish. Holding you in my arms now is enough to get me through the long nights till then.”
    She snorted. “I wanted you to take me at Goodrich Hall, just as I want you to take me now,” she groaned as he bit into the softness at her neck.
    Victor instantly slid off her and the bed, ripping at his clothes and cursing as his hands became caught in the sleeves of his shirt, thanks to his cufflinks. Margaret’s amusement bubbled forth in a laugh as she joined him, sliding off the bed and assisting him to undress. She freed one hand and started on the other but Victor seemed impatient to have her. She did not mind in the slightest,