“Red,” Tristan repeated, his usually blasé expression . . . disturbed? It was gone again in a flash, but it sobered her like a dash of cold water.
“You truly want to see me in white, don’t you,” she said slowly.
Tristan put the manuscript down on his chest. “You look grand in red.”
Suspiciously diplomatic.
“I don’t think I have ever heard of a groom so invested in the ceremonial details,” she said. “The wedding might not take place at all if they reject our amendment yet again.”
“They will pass it. I’m not that invested, by the way.”
“White, like a chaste darling angel?” she prodded.
A shrug. “Rather like a sparkling ice queen.”
“Sparkling.”
“If you had it embroidered with diamonds. Or crystal if you insist on being economical.”
She speared five fingers into her hair, dislodging her chignon. “White and sparkling. Sir, for the past two years, you have subjected me to every carnal indecency imaginable and we are living in sin. We are doing sinful things in this office flat because we can’t officially share a house. There’s not a shred of innocence left between us, so decking myself out in the color of purity strikes me as ridiculous.”
Tristan seemed too stunned to speak.
“I . . . subjected . . . you,” he then drawled. “Subjected. Are you certain of that, princess?”
“I’m certain I never did anything of the sort before you barged into my life,” she said, sounding smug.
His gaze darkened. “Mm-hm, and yet what we did last week was entirely your idea.”
Heat flashed in her cheeks. “All right—”
“And the lovely young man in Italy—”
“That ought to confirm my choice of red,” she said. “Scarlet sounds just right.”
Tristan chuckled quietly. The motion woke Boudicca; irritated, she raised her head and noisily shook her black ears.
“Forgive us, Your Highness,” Tristan told her, and stroked the cat from head to tail until she settled again. “Wear whatever you wish,” he said to Lucie. “I’d wed you if you arrived in rags.”
“Perhaps a compromise,” she thought out loud. “Red and white. Stripes.”
“Like a peppermint,” Tristan told Boudicca. “How refreshing.”
They both looked at her, man and cat, wearing twin expressions of polite disdain.
“Blimey.” She buried her face in her hands.
Tristan put the manuscript and Boudicca onto the floor. He strolled over to her desk and pulled the pencil she still clutched from her fingers, leaned on the chair’s armrests, and pressed his silky mouth to hers. He kissed through her muffled protest until she softened and sank into the upholstery. When he pulled back, her lips were glossy, and his irises had the golden hue of honey.
“Our lovemaking may be filthy, but our love is pure,” he said, his voice turning tender. “Take that into account when you make your gown choices.”
Longing washed over her in a warm wave. “You truly want this wedding,” she whispered, “don’t you.”
“Yes. Your cold feet won’t make a difference to me wanting this, I’m afraid.”
“I don’t have cold feet.”
She would never understand how a man with such a quicksilver mind and a penchant for chaos mustered such infinite patience for her rigidity and stubbornness.
Tristan kneeled before her, his body effectively caging her in the chair.
“The wedding is a formality,” he said, his eyes searching hers. “I look forward to what follows: calling you my wife. My viscountess. Seeing my ring on your finger, being officially entitled to give you everything, protect you with all that I have whenever you want it or need it . . . Sharing a home with you. Seeing you make use of the freedoms afforded to married women.”
He had told her this before, but it felt good to hear it again. She played with a lock of his soft hair.
“And what freedoms they are,” she said. “I can hardly wait to openly flirt with other men and to dance with anyone but my husband.”
His gaze became heavy-lidded. “I pictured you moving around freely in the public arena for your work.”
She caressed the shell of his ear with her thumb and rubbed the edges of the diamond stud that pierced the lobe. “Perhaps we’re swapping minds after two years together.”
“Oh, we are undoubtedly a terrible influence on each other. You have become a little lecher, and I am an upstanding man of business.”