“Sam,” she laughed. “Sam, wait!”
“I can’t wait.”
She continued to giggle as he pulled her around the corner of the church, to the small courtyard. He backed her against the wall, and he took her mouth in a savage kiss that he could never have done in that church, not without offending God and, worse, her father.
But now, for this small moment of peace before the crowd descended, he took her very breath into himself. His wife.His.
She cradled his face, her hungry mouth meeting his and her tongue teasing him the way she knew that drove him mad. He pressed his hips to hers, his cock already battering at his breeches.
Daisy tore her mouth away. “We must go back. We have to do the breakfast and all the things my mother specifically requested.”
“We’re married. We can do whatever we want, and all I want is to toss you over my shoulder and take you toourroom and ravish you.”
She nuzzled her nose to his and grinned. “I want that too, but we promised.”
“Did we?”
“We did. The moment I told my mother and father I wouldn’t be marrying Cliffton but you instead. My mother wept and you promised, quite fervently, that she’d have the wedding of her dreams—and mine.”
“I vaguely recall,” Sam said with amusement. “Blakewood was holding your father down by the shoulders as he threatened to unman me. He’d assumed I seduced you with my wicked charms and devilish good looks.”
“But he didn’t.”
“His eyes did.”
She cupped his jaw. “They got over their shock and confusion quickly.”
“It helped that Lady Claystone made no fuss about ending the marriage contract, that rotten gorgon. I almost feel bad for Cliffton.”
“Me, too. But it’s over now. We made it. We’re married.”
“I still don’t understand why she cried,” Sam admitted. “Perhaps because I’ve never had a mother.”
Daisy cupped his cheek. “She was disappointed. She had imagined a future that would not come to pass. But once I told her how I really felt, about Cliffton, about Lady Claystone, and how ardently I loved you, she understood. A mother always wants their child to be happy above all else.”
Sam smiled down at her, his gorgeous, sumptuous wife. He groaned. He wasn’t going to make it through the wedding breakfast.
“One more kiss,” he begged.
She pulled his face down to hers, sealing her mouth to his, and this time, it was her—her taste, her soft lips, her eager moaning—that swept his mind clean of thought and sense.
“I can be quick,” he panted into her neck.
“Er-hmp.” Someone cleared their throat. Amelia. Thank the Lord it wasn’t Blakewood.
Sam lifted his head, and Daisy pressed her face into his chest. Blakewood stepped around the corner, frowning with impatience.
“The festivities are not done yet,” Amelia said, arms folded and tapping her foot.
Sam scowled. “You didn’t have to have a wedding breakfast and spend hourstalkingto people.”
“Then you can share yours with us, brother. It’s only a little while longer. An hour, and then you can sneak away.”
“Thirty minutes now, and then I’ll give you two hours at breakfast.”
Blakewood grumbled and turned away. “I don’t want to hear this.”
Daisy slapped at his arm. “Sam!”
