by Heath Griffin, Marquess of Claybourne
- It may well start before the nobleman ever sees her. Perhaps talk of her escapades gives him pause, or reports of her unconventional spirit make him laugh. (Soon he finds himself asking after a woman he has yet to meet!)
- The reality of her trumps his imagination. Who knew a woman could have such coltish grace, infectious laughter, and lively eyes? (He does not suspect love at first sight—he only knows he must see her again … and soon!)
- At this point, the nobleman believes he is dealing with a lustful infatuation—and all that is required to quell his fervor is a kiss from said fair lady or a dip in the chilly English Channel. (After all how different could one kiss be from another?) The reality? After one kiss, he may not know he is in love (he may not yet even be in love), but he knows he does not want to give her up. (And kiss her again, he must!)
- Soon the nobleman finds himself worrying about the spitfire’s well being and reputation—and entertaining the notion of marriage. He tells himself a genteel marriage is inevitable, and her honesty and forthrightness would simply be less boring than the mincing, coy alternatives. (Forgive the matchmakers for snickering at such self-delusion.)
- Truth be told, by now her lack of interest in him is equaled only by his lack of interest in all other women. The nobleman must admit that life away from his lady is no life at all. (He worries a tad about the condition of his heart, as he surely feels a strange stirring there.)
- The nobleman begins to contemplate what he has never considered before: A marriage built on trust—and the absence of mistresses. A marriage built on shared passions—and the curious desire to slay his lady’s dragons. A marriage built on two equals—titles and fortune be damned. (Dare he say it? He can actually imaginewillingly spending time with this woman once they are wed!)
- The nobleman may try to tell himself he has simply found his ideal marchioness (which will keep him from having to search for a wife in the future), but his instincts warn him that if he does not act quickly, something precious will slip through his fingers.
- The first pang of jealousy signals that his noble heart is, indeed, in dire danger. (Will he ever live down the fact that the competition which made him see red is old enough to be her grandfather?)
- The same nobleman—once content to play cards, race horses, and fraternize with the ton—now can’t wait to do better, to be better, to prove himself a man worthy of her love.
- The nobleman has found his ideal love match—someone to be the mother of his children and someone he will love for the rest of his life. He really had no choice, you see: his need to start and end each day with his lady fair trumps all else.
Ahh, who am I fooling, Gentle Reader? After teasing my two closest friends (Marcus and Drew) for falling head over heels for a Loring sister, it appears I am in danger of succumbing to that tempting fate myself. Somewhere between leaving me in the dust (on my own steed, of all things) and donning breeches, Lily Loring—the youngest and most intrepid of the Loring sisters—has me considering the abandonment of my womanizing ways.
So when I speak of “her,” I am obviously thinking of Lily.
To my fellow noblemen: my apologies for letting the world see behind the curtain. To the marriage-minded mothers of the ton: I fear you are too late to claim me for your daughters. To my wild-blooded Lily: I am on my way . . . don’t you dare get on that horse.