Page 152 of A Story of Love

“I just told him the truth—that you’d written it.”

“And—and he just believed you?”

Fast snorted. “What do you think?”

“Please tell me you didn’t beat him, too?”

“No.”

She heaved a sigh.

“At least not much.”

“Fast!”

“What?” he asked, spreading out his hands. “How else was I supposed to retrieve your stolen property and get him to break his contract with that scoundrel Parker?”

“If you beat every single publisher in London, how will I ever do business there again?”

“I didn’t have to beat W.H. Newcastle. At least not when the man finally had a chance to read it.”

She gasped. “It was you who gave it to him?”

“It sure as hell wasn’t Parker.” He reached out and caught her hand, pulling her lush bottom back onto his thigh. “Why didn’t you come to me for help—rather than that scaly bastard Parker?” He claimed her mouth fiercely before she could offer up paltry excuses—such as she hadn’t known Fast back then—and savagely kissed her, all the worry and anxiety of the past weeks pouring out of him.

And all the love, as well.

When he decided to let her breathe again, he released her. “So,” he said, taking an immoderate amount of pleasure from her flushed face, dazed eyes, and swollen lips. “Is that explanation good enough for where I’ve been, why I’ve been gone so long, and why you will forgive me and marry me?”

Her lashes fluttered and her green eyes—so like those of her enchanting little niece—widened in shock. “Marry? But—”

He laid a finger over her lush lips. “If you utter any of that claptrap about not believing in marriage, I’ll drag you back to The King’s Purse and lock you up in the Queen’s Chambers. I’ll keep you there and use each and every one of those implements on the wall on your body until you beg me to marry you.”

“Fast!”

He was pleased to note that she blushed prettily and appeared titillated, rather than appalled, by his erotic threat. Hmmm, that was interesting. His little authoress was adventurous, was she? Fast could joyfully accommodate her curiosity.

“Well?” he demanded when she continued to stare dazedly. “Will you allow your brother to marry us tomorrow morning? Or must I carry out my threat?”

“But the banns haven’t been read.”

He patted his pocket. “I came prepared with a special license.”

“But…what about your grandfather? Everyone in London knows how high in the instep he is. He will never agree to you marrying me.”

“It was only thanks to my grandfather’s assistance that the Archbishop was persuaded to issue a special license to a reformed rake such as myself.”

She goggled. “You mean he doesn’t mind that you aren’t marrying a pedigreed peeress or an heiress?”

Fast didn’t tell her that the old man had minded a great deal. Nor did he tell her how loudly and passionately the two of them had discussed the matter. And he certainly didn’t mention that it had taken almost one entire week out of the last three and a half to finally persuade the marquess to see the light.

Instead, he smiled and said, “He is so grateful that I’m staying in England and have consented to wed that he said I could marry his char woman if she agreed to bear him a grandson.” That was the truth, as far as it went.

Fast knew the old man’s reservations would disappear after a few hours in Lorelei’s company. A few days, at most.

She laughed. “How flattering.”

Fast kissed her. “And don’t think I’m asking you to be my wife only so I can breed heirs on you, Lorelei.”