29. Chapter 29
Chapter twenty-nine
Pink
I don’t know why I keep looking at the clock on the car radio. It’s not going to make the time go any faster. And I don’t even know how long Monty is likely to be. How long do meetings with the Council take? I have no idea. Most people try very hard not to have to have any dealings with the Council at all. So, I’m not sure if anyone knows.
I stare up at the nondescript glass skyscraper as if it has any answers. But it doesn’t tell me a thing. It looks identical to the dozens of other tall office buildings in this area. It’s all very discreet.
I know the Council’s true headquarters is a huge underground castle somewhere. All granite and medieval grandeur. I guess the Council only uses it for very special occasions.
Hopefully, Monty isn’t about to be arrested and dragged off there to never be seen again. Charged with the crime of being a Revivalist.
I squirm in my seat and chew on my bottom lip. Surely it is going to be fine? The Council are going to want the information Monty can offer them? They are going to understand he can’t help what family he was born into and that he never wanted any part of it?
Suddenly, the revolving doors at the entrance spin, and Monty strides out. Heading straight for me. Relief surges through me. He is free at least. No dank dungeon for him.
I can’t read his expression or his body language. He just looks like an incredibly handsome, smartly dressed man hurrying to get out of the gloom and the cold.
He opens the driver side door and slides into the seat. He pulls his satchel off, pats it as if checking for something, and then twists to place it almost reverently on the backseat.
“I think it went well,” he says. “I think they are going to bite.”
A small squeal of delight escapes me. “Oh! How fantastic!”
Excitement thrums through me. We are going to get Laurie back before he is given to anyone, and Jade is going to be able to come home. Which means Red and Brodie will be able to as well. It is all perfect.
“We should celebrate,” says Monty with a mischievous sparkle in his sapphire eyes.
I grin in return. “What did you have in mind?”
He chuckles warmly. “I know a lovely restaurant just around the corner.”
That does sound nice, and even if it didn’t, I’m more than happy to play along. “Just you and me?”
“Yes!” Monty exclaims exuberantly
“Like a date?” I tease.
“Exactly like a date,” he beams.
We laugh in unison, and he starts the engine. My heart is racing. I hope we are still doing our daft little script when we are seventy. It means the world to me. A silly little thing that no one else would understand, because it is just for us. Monty and I. A secret love language.
We drive for a few minutes, and then Monty spots a parking space on the road. He reverses into it with a skill that is strangely hot.
We get out of the car and Monty takes my hand. As soon as I see the fancy restaurant, I freeze in my tracks.
“I’m not dressed up,” I whisper.
“You always look beautiful,” says Monty. “The first time I saw you, you were wearing Crocs and I was still utterly smitten.”
The snort laugh that escapes me is not at all alluring, but Monty smiles as if it is.
We walk into the restaurant and the maitre greets us as if expecting us and immediately whisks us to a lovely table, set alone in the curve of a gorgeous bay window. The restaurant is on the top of a hill, so the view is dazzling. All the sparkling lights of a city at night.
The lighting inside the establishment is dim. It’s mostly from collections of candles flickering softly in the center of the tables.
In the corner, a pianist is playing on a very well polished grand piano. The gentle sound glides through the air, soothing and calming.
The other patrons are seated far enough away that it feels private and intimate.
All in all, it is a lovely restaurant. Special, without being intimidating or stuffy. Monty really does know all the best places.
I sigh happily and settle in for a delightful evening. I ask Monty to order for me and he is very happy to oblige.
The food, when it arrives, is sublime. The courses are served swiftly and unobtrusively. Allowing Monty and I to bask in each other’s company seamlessly. The only interruption is when Monty pops to the loo. But he isn’t gone for long and our evening resumes. Our conversation flows and my soul swells with joy. This evening is turning out to be magical.
After dessert, two waiters approach our table. Champagne for Monty, and a very fancy, lemonade-inspired soft drink for me. The thoughtfulness swells my soul even more.
Our drinks are poured with a flourish into beautiful flute glasses, and then we are left alone again once more.
“Cheers!” says Monty as he holds his glass aloft.
Grinning, I clink my glass against his. “Cheers!”
As I take a sip, something metal touches my lips. I put my drink down and stare at it in confusion. There is a ring in my glass.
I fish it out and look at it. It’s beautiful. Silver and set with a multitude of very dark amber gemstones.
“It’s Baltic amber,” says Monty. “The color reminds me of your eyes.”
I’m still bewildered. I look up at Monty and startle at the sight of him. Why is he so nervous? He is practically sweating.
As I watch, he slides from his chair and lands on one knee on the floor. Goodness! Is he ill? My heart starts to thud against my ribs in alarm.
“Pink, will you marry me?”
My hands fly up to my mouth, and a breathless gasp escapes me. Everyone in the restaurant is staring at us. The piano has fallen silent. What is happening? This can’t be happening. Is Monty really proposing to me? It doesn’t make any sense. Old Blood don’t do proposals. They do negotiations and arrangements. And then there is the matter of Monty’s status.
“You’re…you’re a duke!” I exclaim.
Someone in our audience gasps with delighted glee.
Monty nods solemnly. “Yes. And you will be a duke consort.” He swallows. “If you will have me.”
His blue eyes are staring up at me. Frantic, beseeching, and yearning. Oh goodness, so much yearning. This really is happening. Monty wants me. Monty wants to marry me. Monty wants to keep me forever.
With a sob, I fall to my knees in front of him. My arms fling around his neck and my lips smash against his. He jolts in surprise, but then he kisses me back with passion, and his arms wrap around me, pulling me even closer.
Dimly, I think I can hear everyone in the restaurant cheering. But I am not paying any attention. I’m busy. Very busy.
I’m kissing Monty. My fiance.