She wore his shirt. He fondled her breasts through the material until her nipples stood hard against the fabric, then leaned back so he could admire them. His shirt smelled of him, and he was everywhere—inside her, all around her, his weight pressing her into the mattress.
That knowledge alone wasdelicious.
“I love you,” she gasped again as he brought a hand underneath her hips, raising her to meet him for each thrust. He was so deep inside her, claiming every single part of her and committing it to pleasure. “I love you so much… it scares me to lose you.”
He caught her face between both hands, holding her there so he could gaze seriously into her eyes, his body stilling on hers. “You willneverlose me, Aurelia,” he told her, leaning down to brush his lips lightly against hers. “Never.”
The kiss wasn’t enough for Aurelia—she leaned up and pressed her mouth more firmly against his. A sigh fell from her at the way he returned her kiss. Sea salt and cedar. They were one, united in this primal way, and she felt as though nothing could ever break them apart again. This wasn’t merely physical—it was more than that, transformative in a way, as though they were emerging somewhere new, being remade through each other.
Like this, she believed they would be all right. Husband and wife. There were still some things to resolve, but she had the first glimmer of hope that there was light at the end of the tunnel. They would make their way through this—there was no way they could not when he felt like this inside her, when he kissed her with such ferocity, when his hands were so gentle on her skin.
His tempo increased, pushing into her, and she wrapped her legs around him, urging him on. They were connected, every part of them, and that was what mattered.
She held on for dear life, and he held her as though he needed her.
When he broke, she felt as though part of her chest broke with him, a sweeping tide that took them both with it. He groaned, emptying herself in her, and she canted her hips, welcoming him in as deep as she could.
She imagined she could feel him pulsing inside her.
They were one.
He didn’t move for a long time, braced on his elbows above her so he wouldn’t crush her with his weight. His lips ghosted hers, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, closing her eyes.
Tomorrow, they would work on repairing this thing they had broken, but tonight she would live in the moment with him.
He brushed her hair back from her face. “Will you please stay with me tonight?”
If she wanted, she could go back to her bedchamber and sleep there, alone. He would let her. He would understand if she needed more time. And some part of her wondered if sheshouldneed more time.
But the crux of the matter was that she loved him. Deeply, madly, wildly, and even though she had been hurt, and still was, she was going to forgive him. She hadalreadyforgiven him.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I’ll stay with you tonight. I’ll stay with you every night.”
He kissed her one last time before rolling off. His shirt hung around his hips as he searched for something to clean them both with, and she watched him walk about the room, her chest swelling full.
“I’ll call for dinner,” he said. “We’ll eat here. Make love again. And perhaps again. I won’t be done with you until morning. Or the next day. Or the rest of my life.”
Aurelia smiled to herself, staring at the ceiling, content. He loved her—helovedher. All the rest would come with time. And time was one thing they had plenty of: they had a lifetime full of it.
“Tomorrow,” she murmured, “We can travel to Mary Ann’s and retrieve my things. And then…”
He arched a brow at her. “And then?”
“And then we will begin the rest of our lives.”
EPILOGUE
THREE MONTHS LATER
Aurelia caressed the small curve of her lower belly, near imperceptible to the naked eye, yet visible to her. She’d suspected for several weeks that she might be with child—her monthly cycles had never been especially regular, but they had been nonexistent for the past few months—and she had called a midwife in to check.
This was it. She was with child.
And Sebastian would be a father.
The rumors were still rife through London, of course. Both about her heritage, or lack thereof, and Sebastian’s reputation as a wife-murderer. But Aurelia’s burning need to see that reputation repaired had dimmed somewhat. She still intended to clear his name, and for them both to take their places in London—for their child’s sake if nothing else—but she had realized that such things took time.
Patience.
