Part 52 (1/2)
”What marvellously discreet servants you have, Harry,” Polly observed.
”No doubt they are accustomed to melting away as soon as you appear with a lady who is not your wife!”
”Minx!” Henry pulled her into his arms.
”They are all well aware that tomorrow you will become Lady Polly March night!”
He kissed her gently, lovingly. It was not what Polly wanted. She parted her lips beneath his, rejoicing as she felt the kiss turn from sweetness to sensual demand. Henry, that notorious rake, had exercised endless self-control in his dealings with her and she was determined to make him lose his restraint.
”I protest,” she said against his lips, 'that your reputation is undeserved.
Harry! You are no rake--' In reply, he turned his mouth back to hers driving out all thought with the explosive demand of his lips and his hands. When he finally let her go, Polly had to lean back against the door frame to steady herself. Henry stood back very deliberately.
”Enough! I must go--' Polly had her hand on the doork.n.o.b and the door was already half-open. As Henry turned away she said, very softly, ”Henry, I am afraid of the thunder. Don't leave me...”
She saw him hesitate, and smile, before he took her arm, drew her through the doorway, and closed the door very firmly behind them.
Neither of them heard the thunderstorm that raged about the house, being too concerned with the storm within. At some point during the night, when the thunder had died away. Henry stirred and raised himself on one elbow.
”The storm has gone,” he said softly.
”Would you wish me away, madam, now that you need be afraid no longer?”
Polly could hear the smile in his voice. She reached out to pull him to her.
”I have not mentioned it before, my love, but I am afraid of the dark.
I fear you must stay with me until the morning!”
In the light of the new day, Polly woke again and spoke drowsily.
”Henry? Do you still wish to marry me?”
Henry leant across to kiss her.
”More than ever now, my love! Who would have thought that marriage would promise to be so enjoyable!”
Polly glanced across at the clock. Somehow they had never managed to draw the bed curtains.
”At what hour is the wedding?”
”At ten o'clock, the earliest that I thought that we could respectably arrange it...” Henry's kisses were becoming more persuasive, more determined. Polly pushed him away.
”That would be the ten o'clock that was a half hour ago?”
Henry sat bolt upright.
”Good G.o.d! It cannot be ten-thirty already?” He put his head in his hands.
”How could I miss my own wedding as a result of being in bed with my future wife? Father Beck ham will be saying prayers for my immortal soul!”
Polly leant across to give him a consoling kiss.