Scandal And The Duchess (MacKenzies & McBrides #6.5)(37)
Author: Jennifer Ashley

She stopped on the threshold now, flushing, because the parlor was full of people.

One was Mr. Collins, his flame-red hair mussed from the continued inclement weather. Near him stood Lord Ian Mackenzie and his wife, Beth, and Steven’s brother Sinclair. A woman with the same blond hair as Steven’s greeted them with a wide smile, and another Mackenzie, a bit older than Ian, towered behind her.

“Thank you all for coming,” Steven said, in no way surprised, confound the man. He led Rose inside, out of the way of the porters arriving with the broken settee. “Ainsley, Cam, this is Rose. Rose, my sister Ainsley and her husband, Cameron Mackenzie.”

Ainsley, the blond woman with eyes the same shade as Steven’s and Sinclair’s, came forward. “How do you do, Your Grace? I hope you don’t mind—Beth has already told me all about you.” She winked at Rose and took her hands. “Don’t be cryptic, Steven. Why did you summon us?”

And when had he? Rose realized now why Steven had been such a long time in the cloakroom at the train station—he must have slipped to the office to wire his friends.

Ian Mackenzie was staring at the settee which now rested in the center of the carpet. As well he might—it was a mess. Albert had finished wrecking what the weather and animals already had done.

“Redecorating, are you?” Sinclair asked in a dry voice.

“Let the man speak,” Cameron said in a voice that filled the room. “We’ll never have the answer if we keep interrupting.”

“I brought you here to make it official,” Steven said. He took Rose’s hands in his scratched ones, which he’d battered in effort to rescue her. “My sweetest Rose,” he said in a quiet voice. “Will you marry me?”

Rose’s stared at him. She could have sworn he’d just asked her to marry him, but the world was tilting, and she wasn’t quite sure. “Wha—?”

Steven’s hands anchored her, and she clung to them, the floor still unsteady. His eyes, clear and gray as the stormy November skies, held no teasing, no joking, only sincerity, and hope.

“Steven,” she whispered.

“You’ll have to be plain with me, Rosie,” Steven said, his grip tightening. “Is that a yes or a no?”

“Steven,” was all Rose could say. If she let go of him, she’d fall. If she held on to him, she was still in danger of falling, because hope and happiness were bearing down on her, threatening to sweep her away.

Beth Mackenzie broke in through the silence. “I believe that is a yes, Steven. I can tell by the way she’d looking at you.”

“Is it?” Steven asked Rose.

Rose’s throat closed up, and tears flooded her eyes. She nodded, unable to speak.

Steven let out a long breath of relief. “Thank God.” He pulled Rose into his embrace, his own body shaking. “Thank you, God.”

He leaned to Rose, wiping away one of her tears with his thumb, then he kissed her lips.

The warmth of his mouth snapped Rose back to her senses again. This was real, not simply a sweet dream she’d wake from all too soon. Steven McBride, the warm, passionate, wonderful man, had asked her to marry him, and Rose had nodded in answer. She’d had to nod because the joy of the moment had closed up her throat and choked off her wild Yes!

She broke the kiss and smiled down at him. “Yes,” she whispered.

Steven laughed. His laughter was always real, deep, and warm. He kissed her again, and the room spun around Rose as she kissed him back, the people in it dissolving into a colorful blur.

“It’s wrong.” Ian Mackenzie’s voice was as harsh as Cameron’s but a little more stilted, as though he had to force words out.

Rose turned from Steven to look at him. Ian was staring, not at Steven and Rose, but at the settee.

“Of course, it’s wrong,” Beth said next to him. “Someone’s smashed it.”

Rose wiped her eyes and managed a laugh. “I agree, it’s a bit of a wreck now. I am hopeful a furniture maker can put it back together, but I imagine its value is lost.”

Ian glanced at Rose as though she’d gone utterly mad and hadn’t understood a word he’d said. He moved to the settee and went down on one knee in front of it, lifting the broken bits of wood to fit them together again.

The others watched him a moment, then moved their attention back to Steven and Rose, as though finding nothing unusual in Ian’s behavior.

Steven put his arm around Rose as his friends and family surged forward to congratulate them. Ainsley and Beth kissed Rose, both excitedly talking about wedding clothes and where and when the deed should be done. Sinclair McBride took Rose’s hand once the ladies finally let her go, and kissed her cheek.

“Thank you, Rose,” he said. “My unruly little brother needs someone to keep him tame. God knows the rest of us have never been able to.”

“I didn’t fall in love with her because she keeps me tame,” Steven said, giving Rose a look that reminded her off the naughty things they’d done in the train. “The opposite. She brings out the wickedness in me.”

“Lord, help us all,” Sinclair said, but the bleakness in his eyes fled a moment before his warm smile.

“You must let us take you shopping,” Ainsley said. “We’ll bring Isabella along—she’s dressed all of us, and she’ll have to dress you too. Your wedding gown will be the stuff of legends.”

Steven slid his arm protectively around Rose’s waist. “Enough of that. I didn’t bring you all here to help plan the wedding. I brought you because I want to marry her right away, and you are the best to help me procure a special license.”

Lord Cameron nodded sagely. “Wondered why you wanted the drama. I’ll see to it. McBride?” he nodded at Sinclair and Mr. Collins, as though proposing they rush away and hunt up a bishop on the moment.

“Could you exercise a few seconds of patience, Cam?” Ainsley said to her husband. “I’d like to at least toast the happy couple. I’ll ring for champagne. Or did you telegraph for that as well, Steven?”

Ian Mackenzie continued to piece the settee back together. He’d torn off the tatters of the cushion but pushed the legs and arms back into place, fitting broken bits into place as he would a puzzle. The settee looked forlorn without its padding, the wood scratched and splintered, but somehow it wasn’t as ugly as it had been. The ebony was strong, and the pure gold glistened in the lamplight.