hen Victoria woke from her nap an hour later, Robert's beaming face was only a few inches from her own. He was propped up on his elbow, and she suspected that he'd spent the entire nap time watching her.

"Today," he announced with great cheer, "is a superb day to be married."

Victoria was certain she'd misheard him. "I beg your pardon?"

"Married. Man and wife."

"You and me?"

"No, actually I think that the hedgehogs out in the garden need to be joined in holy matrimony. They have been living in sin for years. I can no longer stand for it."

"Robert," Victoria said, giggling despite herself.

"And all those little illegitimate hedgehogs. Think of the stigma. Their parents have been breeding like rabbits. Or like hedgehogs, as the case may be."

"Robert, this is a serious matter."

The levity left his eyes, and they burned hot and intense into hers. "I have never been more serious."

Victoria was silent for a moment while she chose her words. "Don't you think today is a bit sudden? Marriage is a very serious matter. We must give it sufficient thought."

"I have been thinking of little else for the better part of a month."

Victoria sat up, pulling the sheet along with her to cover her nakedness. "But I have not. I'm not ready to make this kind of decision just yet."

His face hardened. "You might have thought of that before you knocked on my door this afternoon."

"I wasn't thinking beyond—"

"Beyond what?" he asked, his voice sharp.

"I'd hurt your feelings," she whispered. "And I wanted to—"

He was out of the bed and on his feet in under a second. He planted his hands on his hips and stared down at her furiously, oblivious to the fact that he wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing. "You made love to me out of pity?" he spat.

"No!" She, however, was not oblivious to the fact that he was naked, and so her denial was directed to his knees.

"Look at me!" he ordered, his anger making his voice terribly harsh.

She raised her eyes a few inches, then lowered them again. "Would you please put on some clothing?"

"It's a little late for modesty," he bit out, but he pulled his breeches off the floor and put them on.

"I didn't do this out of pity," she said, finally raising her eyes to his face, even though she'd much rather look at the ceiling or the walls or even at the chamber pot in the corner. "I did it simply because I wanted to do it, and I wasn't thinking much beyond today."

"I find it difficult to believe that you, a person who craves stability and permanence, would embark on a short-term affair."

"I wasn't thinking of it as such."

"Then how were you thinking of it?"

Victoria looked into his eyes, saw the vulnerability he was trying to hide beneath his anger, and realized just how important

her answer was to him. "I wasn't thinking with my head," she said softly. "I was thinking with my heart. I looked up at your window, and you looked so sad—"

"As you have so kindly pointed out," he said bitterly.

Victoria fell silent for a moment to let him speak. Then she continued with, "It wasn't just for you. It was for myself as well. I suppose I just wanted to feel loved."

Hope flared in his eyes. "You are loved," he said fervently, reaching forward to take her hands in his. "And you can feel that way every day of the rest of your life if you'd only let yourself. Marry me, Victoria. Marry me and make me the happiest man in the world. Marry me and give yourself peace and contentment. And," he added, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, "love. For surely there has never been a woman loved more deeply and truly than I do you."

Victoria fought against the tears that were pricking her eyes, but his words were too powerful, and she felt her cheeks grow salty and wet. "Robert," she began, not at all certain what she was trying to say, "for so very long I have—"

"You might be with child," he cut in. "Have you considered that?"

"I had not," she admitted with a convulsive swallow. "But I—"

"Marry me," he repeated, tightening his grip on her hands. "You know it is the right thing to do."

"Why did you have to say that?" she said. "You know I hate it when you try to tell me what I want."

Robert let out an exasperated breath. "That wasn't what I meant, and you know it."

"I know, it's only that..."

"It's only what?" he said softly. "What is holding you back, Torie?"

She looked away, feeling rather stupid. "I don't know. Marriage is so permanent. What if I make a mistake?"

"If it's a mistake then you've already made it," he said with a glance toward the bed. "But it isn't a mistake. Marriage won't always be easy, but life without you—" He ran his hand through his hair, his face showing his inability to put his thoughts into words. "Life without you would be impossible. I don't know how else to say it."

Victoria chewed on her lower lip, aware that she was coming to feel the same way. For all that he'd put her through during this past month, she couldn't quite imagine life without his lopsided smiles, the twinkle in his eyes, or the way his hair never quite looked as if he'd brushed it properly. She looked up at him, her eyes locking with his. "I have a few reservations," she began.

"You wouldn't be human if you didn't." he said reassuringly.

"But I can see that there are several reasons why marriage might be a good idea." She spoke slowly, working her words out in her head as she spoke. She shot a quick glance at Robert, half expecting him to yank her into another crushing embrace. But he remained still, clearly understanding that she needed to speak her mind.

"First of all," Victoria said, "as you pointed out, there is the matter of a child. It was very irresponsible of me not to consider it, but I didn't and there is nothing for it now. I suppose I could simply wait a few weeks and see—"

"I wouldn't recommend that particular course of action," Robert said quickly.

She bit back a smile. "No, I don't imagine you're going to let me go back to London, and I don't imagine that if I stay here—"

"I can't keep my hands off you," he said with an unapologetic shrug. "I freely admit it."

"And I won't try to lie and say that I do not"—she blushed—"enjoy your attentions. You know that I always have, even seven years ago."

He smiled knowingly.

"But there are other reasons why we should or should not marry."

"Should."

She blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"We should marry. Not should not."

Victoria was finding it hard not to laugh.

When he was eager for something, Robert was more adorable than a puppy. "I do worry that you will not let me make my own decisions," she warned.

"I shall try to abide by your wishes," he said, his expression solemn. "If I become an overbearing ass, I give you leave to whack me over the head with your reticule."

Her eyes narrowed. "May I have that in writing?"

"Certainly." He crossed the room to his writing table, opened a drawer, and whipped out a quill, a piece of paper, and a bottle of ink. Victoria stared at him openmouthed as he scribbled a sentence, then signed the bottom with a flourish. He walked back to her, handed her the paper, and said, "There you are."

Victoria looked down and read, "If I become an overbearing ass, I give my beloved wife, Victoria Mary Lyndon Kemble—" She looked up. "Kemble?"

"It will be Kemble. Today, if I have any say." He pointed to a scrawl at the top of the note. "I postdated the note, however, for next week. You'll be a Kemble by then."

Victoria forebore to comment on his amazing confidence and continued reading. "Let's see... Victoria Mary Lyndon, ahem, Kemble... leave to whack me over the head with whatever object she chooses." She glanced up questioningly. "Any object?"

Robert shrugged. "If I become a really overbearing ass, you might want to hit me with something sturdier than your reticule."

Her shoulders shook as she turned back to the note. "Signed, Robert Phillip Arthur Kemble, Earl of Macclesfield."

"I'm not a scholar of the law, but I think it is legal."

Victoria's face broke into a watery smile. With an impatient hand she brushed her tears away. "This is why I'm going to marry you," she said, holding the slip of paper in the air.

"Because I have told you that you may hit me at your discretion?"

"No," she said, sniffling loudly, "because I don't know what will happen to me if I don't have you to tease me. I've grown too serious, Robert. I wasn't always this way."

"I know," he said gently.

"For seven years I wasn't allowed to laugh. I forgot how."

"I'll remind you."

She nodded. "I think I need you, Robert. I think I do."

He sat on the end of the bed and gathered her into a tender embrace. "I know I need you, darling Torie. I know I do."

After several moments of enjoying the warmth of his arms, Victoria pulled just far enough away to ask, "Were you serious about getting married today?"

"Absolutely."

"But that's impossible. We have to post banns."

He smiled wickedly. "I procured a special license."

"You did?" She gaped at him. "When?"

"Over a week ago."

"A bit prematurely certain of yourself, don't you think?"

"It all worked out in the end, didn't it?"

Victoria tried to adopt a suspicious expression, but she couldn't do anything about the laughter in her eyes. "I think, my lord, that some might deem you an overbearing ass for this type of behavior."

"An overbearing ass, or a really overbearing ass? I should like to know, as the welfare of my skull depends upon it."

Victoria melted into a pool of giggles. "Do you know, Robert, but I think that I might actually like being married to you."

"Does that mean you forgive me for abducting you?"

"Not just yet."

"Really?"

"Yes, I shall have to withhold forgiveness until I have milked the situation for all it is worth."

This time it was Robert's turn to explode with laughter. While he was catching his breath, Victoria poked him in the shoulder and said, "We cannot marry today in any case."

"And why is that?"

"It is well past noon. A proper marriage must take place in the morning."

"A silly rule."

"My father always abided by it," she said. "I know, for I was always forced to pound away at the organ at every wedding at which he officiated."

"I didn't know we had an organ at our village vicarage."

"We didn't. This was in Leeds. And I believe you're changing the subject."

"No," he said, nuzzling her neck. "Merely a temporary digression. As for morning weddings, I believe that the early hour is required only for conventional marriages. With a special license we can do whatever we please."

"I suppose I should be thankful that I am cleaving unto a man who is so supremely organized."

Robert let out a happy sigh. "I shall take my compliments in any form you wish."

"Do you really want to get married this evening?"

"I can think of nothing else as appealing. We've no playing cards, and I have already read most of the books in the library."

She swatted him with a pillow. "I am serious."

It took only a second for him to pin her down onto her back, his weight flattening her bare breasts, his eyes gleaming into hers. "So am I," he said.

She caught her breath, then smiled. "I believe you."

"Besides, if I do not marry you tonight, I shall have to ravish you again."

"Is that so?"

"Indeed. But you are a good churchgoing woman, daughter of a vicar no less, so I know that you will want to keep your pre-marriage ravishments to a minimum." His expression turned suddenly serious. "I always swore that when I made love to you, it would be as man and wife."

She grinned and touched his cheek. "Well, we ruined that vow."

"Once, I suppose, is not so very great a sin," he said, turning his attention to her earlobe. "But I should like to get my ring on your finger before I am overcome with lust again."

"You're not overcome now?" she asked with a disbelieving expression. It wasn't very difficult to feel the imprint of his desire on her hip.

Robert laughed against the underside of her chin. "I'm going to enjoy being married to you, Torie."

"I-I suppose that is a good reason to propose," she gasped, trying to ignore the spasms of pleasure he was stirring within her.

"Mmmm, yes." He moved back to her mouth and kissed her deeply, teasing her until she was quivering beneath him. Then, abruptly, he rolled off her and onto his feet. "I'd better stop now," he said with a wicked smile, "for in another moment I won't be able to."

Victoria wanted to shout out that she didn't care, but she contented herself with tossing a pillow at him instead.

"I wouldn't want to compromise you any further," Robert continued, easily dodging her attack. "And I wanted to remind you of"—he leaned down and dropped one last kiss on her mouth—"this. Just in case you were having second thoughts."

"I'm having them now," she retorted, certain that she looked just as frustrated as she felt.

Robert laughed as he crossed the room. "I'm sure you'll be pleased to know that my little reminder has left me feeling every bit as uncomfortable and unfulfilled as you."

"I'm perfectly fine," she said, lifting her chin in the air.

"Yes, of course you are," he teased as he reached into the traveling case he'd left carelessly on the desk. Victoria was about to let out a stinging retort when his countenance turned quite black and he let out a loud "Damn!"

"Is something amiss?" she asked.

His head whipped up to face her. "Have you been in this bag?"

"No, of course not, I wouldn't—" She colored as she remembered that she'd been looking through his things. "Well, actually I would snoop in your belongings, I admit, but I found the tub before I found your case."

"I don't care if you want to pull up the floorboards," he said distractedly. "What's mine is yours. But I had important papers in this case, and now they're gone."

A unexpected bubble of mirth welled up in Victoria's chest. "What sort of papers?" she asked carefully.

Robert let out another low curse before replying, "The special license."

Victoria had a feeling that it wasn't an appropriate time to burst into loud and raucous laughter, but she did so anyway.

Robert planted his hands on his hips as he turned to face her. "This is not funny."

"I'm sorry," she said, not sounding particularly apologetic. "It is simply that you— Oh, my!" Victoria collapsed into another round of giggles.

"It must be in my other case," Robert said. "Damn."

Victoria wiped her eyes. "Where is your other case?"

"London."

"I see."

"We'll have to leave within the hour."

Her mouth fell open. "Leave for London? Right now?"

"I don't see any other option."

"But how will we get there?"

"MacDougal stabled my carriage just a quarter mile away before leaving for London. The local squire has always been most accommodating. I'm sure he can spare a groom to drive us back."

"You let me believe that I was stranded here?" she yelled.

"You never asked," he said, shrugging. "Now then, I suggest you get dressed. As delightful as you are in your current attire, there is a slight chill in the air."

She held the bed sheets tightly against her body. "My dress is in the next room."

"You're going to be modest now?"

Her mouth twisted into an offended frown. "I'm sorry I can't be as cosmopolitan as you are, Robert. I don't have much experience with this sort of thing."

He smiled and dropped an affectionate kiss on her forehead. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. You're simply too much fun to tease. I'll get your dress right away. And," he added as he opened the door, "I shall leave you to your privacy to change into it."

Thirty minutes later they were on their way to London. Robert was having a difficult time keeping himself from breaking out into song. On his way back from retrieving the carriage, he had actually belted out a rather off-key version of Handel's "Hallelujah Chorus." He probably would have finished the piece if the horses hadn't whinnied in aural agony. Robert quieted down, thinking it best not to offer similar torture to his betrothed's ears—his betrothed! He loved saying that. Hell, he loved just thinking it.

Still, his happiness was so great that he couldn't quite keep it all inside, and thus, every so often he forgot himself, and then he'd realize he was whistling.

"I didn't know you liked to whistle," Victoria said after about the fifth time he caught himself.

"I certainly cannot sing," he replied. "So I whistle."

"I don't think I've heard you whistling in—" She paused and thought. "I can't remember the last time."

He grinned. "I haven't been this happy in a great many years."

A pause, and then she said, "Oh." She looked ridiculously pleased, and Robert felt ridiculously pleased that she looked that way. He whistled atonally for another few minutes, and then he looked up and said, "Do you realize how wonderful it is to feel spontaneous again?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"When I first met you, we used to run through the woods at midnight. We were wild and carefree."

"It was lovely," Victoria said softly.

"But now... Well, you know how ordered my life is. I am, as you like to say, the most organized man in Britain. I always have a plan, and I always follow it. It feels quite nice to do something spontaneous again."

"You abducted me," Victoria pointed out. "That was spontaneous."

"Not at all," he replied, waving away her comment. "I planned that quite carefully, I assure you."

"Not carefully enough to feed us," she responded just a touch acerbically.

"Ah, yes, the food," he mused. "A small oversight."

"It didn't seem small at the time," she muttered.

"You didn't perish of hunger, did you?"

She swatted him playfully on the shoulder. "And you forgot the special license. When one considers the fact that the entire purpose of the abduction was to marry me, that constitutes a large gap in the plan, indeed."

"I didn't forget to plan for the special license. I just forgot to bring it. I certainly meant to."

Victoria peered out the window. Twilight hung in the air, as it would for several hours. They would not make it to London that evening, but they would get more than halfway there. "Actually," she said, "I'm rather glad you forgot the license."

"You want to put off the inevitable as long as possible, I gather?" he said. He was clearly teasing, but Victoria sensed that her answer was important to him.

"Not at all," she replied. "Once I make a decision I like to carry it out immediately. It's just that it is nice to see you do something wrong every now and then."

"Excuse me?"

She shrugged. "You're nearly perfect, you know."

"Why doesn't that sound like a compliment? And more importantly, if I'm so damned perfect why has it taken me so long to convince you to marry me?"

"It's because you're perfect," she said with a sly smile. "It can grow annoying. Why should I do anything if you're going to do it better?"

He grinned devilishly and pulled her against him. "I can think of many things that you do better."

"Oh, really?" she murmured, trying not to get too aroused by the way his hand was stroking her hip.

"Mmm. You kiss better." To prove his point, he let his lips drift down onto hers.

"You taught me."

"You look much better without any clothes on."

She blushed, but she was growing comfortable enough with him that she dared to say, "That is a matter of opinion."

He pulled back with a loud sigh. "Very well. You sew better."

She blinked. "You're right."

"And you certainly know more about children," he added. "When we are parents I shall constantly have to defer to your better judgment. I'm liable to launch into a lecture on Newton's three laws of motion before they're out of the cradle. Most inappropriate. You'll have to teach me all the nursery rhymes."

Victoria's heart soared at his words. Her brief life as a seamstress had shown her the joy of being able to make important decisions for herself. More than anything she was afraid that marriage would mean she would lose all of this. But now Robert was telling her that he valued her judgment.

"And you have a bigger heart," he said, touching her cheek. "I often get swept up in myself. You always notice the needs of others first. It's a rare and lovely gift."

"Oh, Robert." She leaned toward him, eager for the warmth of his arms. But before she reached him, the carriage hit a deep rut in the road, and she slipped.

"Oh!" she called out—in surprise.

"Aargh!" Robert grunted—in pain.

"Oh dear, oh dear," Victoria said, her words rushed. "What is wrong?"

"Your elbow," he gasped.

"What? Oh, I'm sorry—" The carriage jolted again, and her elbow slid deeper into his mid-section. Or at least she thought it was his mid-section.

"Please... move... it... NOW!"

Victoria scrambled and managed to disentangle her limbs from his. "I'm so sorry," she repeated. Then she looked at him more closely. He was doubled over, and even in the dim light she could tell that his skin looked quite green. "Robert?" she asked in a hesitant voice, "are you going to be all right?"

"Not for several minutes."

She watched him for a few seconds and then ventured, "Did I hit you in the stomach? I assure you it was an accident."

He remained hunched over as he said, "It's a male sort of pain, Victoria."

"Ohhhh," she breathed. "I had no idea."

"I wouldn't have expected you to," he muttered.

Another minute went by, and then Victoria suddenly got a horrible thought. "This isn't permanent, is it?"

He shook his head. "Don't make me laugh. Please."

"I'm sorry."

"Stop saying you're sorry."

"But I am."

"Cold, hunger, and then mortal injury," Robert said under his breath. "Was ever a man as plagued as I?"

Victoria didn't see any reason to reply. She kept her gaze scrupulously on the window, watching as Kent rolled by. There was no sound out of Robert for at least ten minutes, and then, just when she was certain he must have fallen asleep, she felt a tap on her shoulder. "Yes?" she said, turning around.

He was smiling. "I'm feeling better now."

"Oh. Well, I'm so happy for you," she replied, not really certain what type of comment passed for appropriate in this situation.

Robert leaned closer, a hungry look in his eyes. "No, I meant that I'm feeling much better."

Victoria wished he'd stop speaking so cryptically. "Well, then," she said, "I'm very happy for you."

"I'm not certain you understand." he murmured.

Victoria wanted to say that she was certain she didn't understand, but before she could get a word out, Robert had yanked her legs onto the seat, and she was lying on her back. She gasped his name, but he silenced her with a kiss.

"I'm much improved," he said against her mouth. "Very"—kiss—"very"—kiss—"much improved." He raised his head and gifted her with the slowest and most languorous of smiles. "Would you care for a demonstration?"