Titus cleared his throat. “Miss Matilda ‘Candied Orange Peel’ Dodd, would you please do me the honor—”
“Yes!” she blurted out, and launched herself into his arms.
Titus caught her. As soon as she was safe, the stallion dashed forward, forging a path through the crowd and galloping off in a random direction.
Matilda clung to Titus’s neck. The cape flapped behind them. He held on tight. She did the same. “Where is your horse taking us?”
“I have no idea.” He peppered her face with kisses. “Do you mind?”
She shook her head and kissed him. “The destination doesn’t matter, as long as we’re together.”
It was all part of the adventure.
Epilogue
Rutland, England
Three months later
* * *
The Earl of Gilbourne’s knees dug into the soft earth behind a pretty—if minuscule—cottage that could fit inside of his parlor, if he moved a few chairs. Luckily they were only here for a brief visit to check on Matilda’s ancestral home.
His countess was also down on her hands and knees. Unfortunately, she was not doing anything Titus would have preferred her to do whilst in that position.
Matilda brought a smile to his face anyway. She always did. And maybe one day soon, their family would grow even bigger.
“Have we finished yet?” he asked for the third time in a row.
She glared at him. “You’ll know when we’ve finished, because all the weeds will be gone from the garden.”
“You know we could hire someone to do this. Better yet, I could hire someone to walk to a market where somebody else has already done all of this, and all he or she need do is to bring back a basket of vegetables.”
“We’re having fun,” his countess said firmly.
He plucked a stray leaf from her hair. “Do you know what else is fun?”
Matilda’s cheeks flushed pink. “We did that already this morning.”
“Is there a limit I’m unaware of?”
“You might get another opportunity…” She ran a finger down his chest. “…if you help me finish plucking out these weeds.”
Titus launched himself into the task with verve, digging into the soil and tossing weeds over his shoulder like the world’s smallest tempest.
Which might also be how the stray leaf had found its way into his wife’s hair to begin with.
“All right, all right,” she said, laughing. “If you ‘help’ much more, you’ll destroy the entire garden.”
“I’ll buy you a new one,” he promised. “We’re really done?”
“For now,” she warned him. “And only if you entertain me properly.”
He leapt to his feet and scooped her into his arms. “I live to entertain you.”
“A jester, are you?”
“A fool in love,” Titus agreed. He kissed the tip of her nose and swung her toward the cottage.
She wrapped her arms about his neck and kissed his cheeks. “I love you, Gilly-bear.”
“I love you more, Mattie-Mat-Mat,” he growled as he elbowed his way into the house. “My wife. My countess. My love.”
The door banged behind them, followed soon by the squeak of a mattress.
They never did return to the garden.
