“You are the kindest sweetest most generous man I know, and you risked your life for me. That is exactly what my Wesley would do. Throughout the worst of it, you remained humble and rational, reasonable and logical. You showed me things I didn't even know about myself, made me feel things I didn't think I wanted. I never want to let you go again. You are my Wesley. I love the man you were, and I love the man you are now. Yes, I will marry you.”
He kissed her, a cataclysm of love and heat that stole her breath. He picked her up off the bench and spun her around. He stopped in the middle of the gazebo, and she slid down his body, desire and joy mixing inside. Their tongues tangled together, as their bodies pressed impossibly close. But it would never be enough. Willa almost wished they were back at the inn, alone and undisturbed, as Lord and Lady Knightly.
But it was better this way. As Willa and Wesley, they would soon marry and have all the time in the world to be alone.
They broke apart, both breathing hard.
“I would do anything to take you to my room,” he panted.
“I want to, but we’ll never get past my family.”
“Or mine,” he said, “but I have a plan.”
They stepped apart, smiling as they fixed their clothing and returned to the house. Wesley's parents protested his wish to stay, but he had more than one reason. He didn't want his sisters to feel the same way his mother did. He thought it would be better if he stayed with Willa, the one person who understood how difficult this all was for him, and in time he would go home. Hopefully with a better understanding of his own mind.
Epilogue
“That’s it. I’m done.” Willa set down her quill and stretched out across the bed.
“You finished all nine letters already?” Wesley asked with bemusement.
“Anne said they had to be letters of apology, she didn’t specify a length.” Willa folded her arms and rested her chin there.
Wesley chuckled. “You’re not wrong.”
“Of course I’m not. I’ve had one aberration in judgment in my whole life.”
“You rode a stagecoach alone.”
She turned her head to smile at him over her shoulder. Her husband sat at their writing desk, penning his own correspondence. They’d been married two months now, and his memory had fully returned. He occasionally forgot simple things. What he did yesterday, where he put his watch, but with Willa’s help, he’d returned to his normal life.
“And look where it got me,” she said with a sly smile.
He twisted in his chair and smiled at her.
She loved his smile, she loved everything about him. Especially his thick, muscled chest. Watching him undress had become a nightly ritual.
But sadly, it was morning, and he was already dressed.
Unless… She wiggled her hips on the bed.
He pushed out of his chair and strode slowly toward the bed with a wicked glint in his eye.
He understood her so thoroughly at times, it was unnerving.
“Look where it got you.” He grabbed her ankle and tugged her toward the edge of the bed until her bottom met with his groin, and her feet touched the floor.
Willa arched her back and pressed her hips against him as his hands ran up her sides to cup her breasts through her satin nightgown. He might be dressed, but since becoming pregnant, Willa preferred to be lazy in the mornings. She reached back and tugged at his shirt. She preferred him shirtless. Skin to skin.
He chuckled and removed his waistcoat and shirt, tossing them aside.
He pulled up her nightgown as she leaned back against him and threaded her fingers through his hair.
Willa teased the hard ridge in his trousers with her bottom, knowing how wild it drove him.
He growled in her ear and goose bumps erupted over her body. She craved him, deep in her core.
He bent her forward and undid his trousers, the silky hot head of his arousal parting her damp folds.
