her glass. ‘To the future.’
He smiled. ‘You’re still not sure.’
She took her time sipping the pale gold wine, tasting fruit, flinty soil and sunshine. Bubbles burst on her tongue and went straight to her head. Or perhaps that was the Flynn effect. When she was with him nothing seemed mundane or ordinary.
‘I’m still stunned. We don’t even know if we’re physically compatible.’
His expression altered, focused, igniting wildfire in her veins. ‘I think last night proves we’ve got no problems there. We’re combustible together.’
He stroked her wrist and she shivered. Her need for him was a gnawing ache.
‘But marriage is about more than physical attraction.’
Why was she arguing? She’d fallen for Flynn so completely she should be floating in seventh heaven. But a lifetime’s caution couldn’t be shucked aside in an instant.
‘You don’t think we’re compatible? You haven’t enjoyed our time together?’
‘Of course I have. It’s been...wonderful. I’ve never felt like this. But it’s only been a week.’
‘How long do you need to be sure? A month? A year?’ Flynn put down his wine and leaned forward, shifting a platter of exquisitely presented appetisers. ‘I knew the moment I saw you in Paris.’
Ava’s breath caught. Love at first sight? It sounded impossibly romantic.
Yet it was there in his face: absolute certainty. Her heart flipped over.
‘You care for me that much?’
‘You’re the one woman in the world for me, Ava. I’ve never wanted anyone else as my wife. You’re perfect in every way. Perfect for me.’
She heard the harsh edge of emotion in his voice.
‘You make me complete.’
‘Flynn...’ Her fingers meshed with his as he took her glass and put it on the table. Then he lifted her onto his lap with such negligent strength she would have been impressed if she hadn’t already been dazzled by his words and the gleam in his eyes.
‘Is it because you don’t care enough for me?’
His lips brushed her ear, making her shiver.
‘I care, Flynn. You know that.’
Despite a lifetime’s training in bottling up emotions, Ava had let her feelings show time and again. With Flynn, for the first time, that hadn’t seemed to matter. What they had was real and precious. Honest.
His smile was so smug she laughed, sudden elation swamping doubt.
‘Then say yes and I’ll give you the biggest, best wedding London can provide. The church, umpteen bridesmaids and a lavish reception. I can see you in white, with a long train and—’
‘No!’ She tensed, a flake of arctic frost drifting down her spine, chilling her.
‘Ava? What is it?’
She shook her head, trying to clear the shreds of dismay. ‘No big wedding. No white dress.’
‘But you’d look lovely.’
Flynn’s voice was warm as syrup but it failed to dispel the cold creeping into her bones.
‘No.’ She met his questioning stare. ‘Not white.’
Memory flashed an image of the long white evening gown she’d worn for that last winter ball at Frayne Hall. When she’d opened the couturier’s box she’d thought it pretty, almost virginal. But it had clung like a glove, displaying her to hungry eyes. As it had been designed to do, she’d discovered later.
She shuddered.
‘Not white, then.’
Flynn looked puzzled, but Ava wasn’t about to enlighten him. She’d rather shove the past back where it belonged—in the past—and get on with her life.
‘If I marry...’ She paused, making sure he heard her conditions. ‘I don’t want lots of bridesmaids or fuss. No big wedding.’
‘Surely you’ll want all your friends and family to celebrate with you?’
Ava shook her head. She had a couple of good friends. She’d learned years ago to discern between those few genuinely interested in her and those attracted by her family’s status and money. When the money bled away so did they. As for family, there was only Rupert and he was in America. Her parents were dead.
‘No. If I marry I’d rather elope. Just a quiet, simple wedding.’
‘There was I, thinking you’d revel in lace and roses. I thought you a romantic.’ His tone was light but his expression was serious, as if he’d read her tension.
She shrugged. ‘I love lace and roses. I just don’t like a public fuss over something private.’
‘So you’ll marry me?’ He tilted up her face.
Black velvet eyes caressed her and Ava’s body softened. A sigh funnelled up from her lungs and she wanted to lean into him, surrender to passion, trust him totally.
But marriage...
‘I need time to think about it.’
Even as she said it a voice cried inside that she was a fool. She loved Flynn. She wanted him. She had to learn to trust some time, didn’t she?
His smile was endearing, his stroking fingers along her cheek infinitely tender.
‘Then it’s a good thing I’m an expert at persuasion.’
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