Part 6 (1/2)
He would invite her to stay. Indeed, he would all but demand that she stay.
He strode forward. It took four long strides to catch up to her, another to position himself properly, and
half another to sweep her squeaking self up into his arms. He looked down into her beautiful face and gave her his most lordly look. He knew it wasn't as convincing as his sire's, but since Abigail had nothing to compare it to, it would do.
”The future will just have to go on without you,” he announced.
She blinked. ”I beg your pardon.”
”Petered pain is something you'll not have to bear again.”
”Petered pain?”
”Aye,” he said, firmly.
”Oh,” she whispered. Then she smiled, a gentle smile. ”You mean Peter Pan.”
”Whatever,” he said, with an imperious look. ”And that so-shall sec... sec-”
”Social Security,” she supplied.
”Aye, that. You'll have no need of it. Whatever it is,” he added. ”You will have me.”
”I will?”
”Whether you like it or no.”
”I see.”
He grunted. ”So you do.”
He stalked back to the fire. Abigail's arms stole around his neck and it broke his heart. How could she
think no one wanted her?
He set her down on her feet near the fire, put his hand under her chin, and lifted her face up.
”I a.s.sume this agrees with you,” he stated.
She looked up at him solemnly. ”I didn't think you were giving me any choice in the matter.”
”I'm not. I intend to woo you fiercely. I am merely a.s.suming the idea agrees with you.”
A small smile touched her mouth. ”I suppose the future isn't all it's cracked up to be.”
”Especially when the glorious Year of Our Lord 1238 provides one with such exceeding luxuries,” he
said, indicating his pitiful hall with a grand sweep of his arm.
”Well... now that you mention it-”
He didn't wish to hear what she intended to mention, so, like the good soldier he was, he marched
straight into the fray without hesitation. He lowered his head and covered her mouth with his.
She s.h.i.+vered.
And then she kissed him back.
Miles's senses reeled. He gathered Abigail close and wrapped his arms around her. He smiled to himself
as he remembered his first sight of her and how plump a harpy she had seemed. She was definitely not fluffy now. He could work on that later. Visions of half a dozen little Abigail-like creatures scampering about his hall calling ”here, kitty, kitty,” sprang up in his mind. He lifted his head and blinked.
”Miles, I think-” He captured her mouth again. Thinking was not something he wanted to do much more of for the moment. Later he would give thought into little dark-haired, gray-eyed waifs and their mother running roughshod over his hall and his heart. For now, he was far too lost in Abigail's arms. Miles could hardly believe the events of the past several hours. He'd come to Speningethorpe a se'nnight before, determined to wither away to an intolerable, bitter old man. Without warning, Abigail had come splas.h.i.+ng down into his moat and changed his life completely. Perhaps there was more to Sir Sweetums than met the eye.
Whatever the case, Miles knew he had made the right choice. Perhaps the sailing would be a bit rough at first, what with them both coming from different worlds. Already her cat had done damage to his nose. The saints only knew what wreckage Abigail would leave of his heart. But surely it would be worth the effort.
The smell of something burning finally caught his attention. And that warmth on his backside he hadthought to be Abigail's hand had suddenly turned into something else entirely. ”Merde!” he shouted.
”Drop and roll!” Abigail said, shoving him. ”Drop and roll, you idiot!”
He dropped and she rolled him. He soon found himself face down on the floor. There was a fine draft blowing over his backside.
”The fire got your tights, too, I'm afraid,” Abigail said. ”What a shame. Your b.u.m is looking kind of
red-”
Miles whipped over so he was sitting, bare-a.r.s.ed, on the floor. He felt furious color suffuse his cheeks.
Abigail laughed.
”Oh, Miles,” she said, shaking her head.
He grunted and scowled to save his pride. Abigail leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.