Scrambling in the dirt, he rolled her over, terrified the bullet had caught her after all.
“Stone!” Her scream pierced the air almost louder than the bullet had, and God help him, he nearly fainted.
Her slim but surprisingly robust arms flew around his neck. The little minx tugged him onto the ground on top of her. “I knew you’d come!” She peppered his face with kisses and then clumsily claimed his mouth with hers, laughing and crying at the same time.
She was safe. She was here. And she was his heaven.
She had always been his heaven.
When she shuddered and buried her face in his chest, he reluctantly lifted his weight up. She was soft beneath him but the ground couldn’t be comfortable.
“You aren’t trapped with me, love. You can be a duchess still. There are other dukes than Culpepper”
She blinked and shook her head. “I don’t want to be anyone’s duchess.”
“What about a countess?”
“I don’t want that either.”
“What do you want, Tabetha?” He had to know. Because if he didn’t let her walk away from him today, he never would.
“I want to be Mrs. Spencer.” She stared up at him, cradling his face with her hands. “Or Mrs. Chester. Whichever means I get to spend my life as your wife.”
Stone couldn’t resist her grin.
“God, I missed you last night.” His mouth claimed hers and this time, he settled between her thighs. A combination of love and joy and lust wrapped around him, and nothing but the two of them mattered.
“I missed you too,” she whispered, her lips glistening from his kiss. Desperately in need of another taste, Stone lowered his mouth—
“I could use a hand over here,” Westerley interrupted. “Judging by the lack of blood, I’m assuming she wasn’t hit. Well done, by the way, Tabetha. Where’d you learn to do that?”
“A friend taught me,” Tabetha answered, smiling into Stone’s eyes.
“Would you be so kind as to ask that ‘friend’ to get his arse over here? The two of you will have plenty of time to discuss… er… boxing lessons later.”
“I suppose he has a point.” But Stone hadn’t moved and neither had Tabetha…his wife.
Stone pushed up on his hands and flicked his gaze across the meadow.
The certificate was well and gone, which could possibly pose a few difficulties.
He grimaced. They needed to restrain Culpepper’s men. And Culpepper himself was going to require dealing with as soon as he regained consciousness.
And although he relished the idea of meting out some punishment, all he really wanted to do was hold her.
My wife.
Perhaps do more than hold her.
Realizing Westerley wouldn’t appreciate Stone’s present condition, Stone hovered, not allowing himself to touch her, taking a moment to focus on something else—anything but Tabetha—or risk embarrassing all three of them.
A rushing brook… but no, that only reminded himself of Tabetha’s bosom. Sleeping on the ground… again, no. He closed his eyes and pictured a naked four-legged creature with devilish-looking eyes.
Archimedes.
Quite effective.
He opened his eyes to stare into her coffee-colored ones, immediately forgetting Culpepper and Westerley and that damned certificate that for all he knew, by now, might be halfway to the North Sea.
