Botheration.She couldn’t stop the tears from spilling down her cheeks.
“I p-promise I’m not a w-watering pot,” she sniffled.
“I don’t care if you are.” He dashed away a tear.
“But you don’t like unnecessary s-sentiments. You told me so when you proposed.”
“I have changed my mind.”
She pinched her brows together. “When did that happen?”
“Right now. I have never seen anything as charming,” he said solemnly, “as you at this moment.”
Awareness jolted her.Heavens.She’d been so caught up in her emotional maelstrom that she’d forgotten about her appearance.
She clapped her hands to her cheeks. “I must look like a fright—”
“You are beautiful exactly as you are.” He pried her hands from her face, kissing the palms. “And you are mine, Fiona.”
“You’re mine too,” she felt compelled to say.
“I would not have it any other way.”
She slid him a considering glance. “Does this mean that our relationship might get, um, complicated?”
“I think,” he said dryly, “we are rather past the point of ‘might.’”
“Oh.” Her heart stuttered. “I suppose you’re right.”
“I usually am.” A smile lurked in his eyes. “You still haven’t answered my question.”
She had to think back. “You mean…about staying the night?”
He dipped his chin, his gaze watchful.
Suddenly, she flashed back to their daring escape from von Essen’s balcony. That dizzying fear she’d felt when looking down…but also the soaring exhilaration. Back then, she’d trusted him enough to take the leap—and her instincts hadn’t changed.
“The answer is yes,” she said breathlessly. “Please stay the night with me.”
Twenty-One
Hawk surfaced on a disorienting wave of pleasure. He kept his eyes shut, wanting the erotic dream to last. Nothing in real life could feel this good. When he was awake, his companions were loneliness and exhaustion. Or work…he could always bury himself in his inventions. But he would rather bury himself in this fantasy lover. Bloody hell, she felt fine. He groaned, breathing in the scent of peaches and woman, thrusting his cock against giving flesh…
“Well, good morning to you too.”
The teasing voice lured him into wakefulness. Opening his eyes, he saw a flash of red…red hair.Fiona’shair. Relief and fierce gladness surged over him as he returned to the present. He and his wife were in bed together, lying on their sides like a pair of spoons. His morning erection was cradled against her lush derriere, his hand filled with her soft, firm breast.
Last night, they’d had what qualified as their first marital disagreement, and a part of him couldn’t believe how well they’d managed the conflict. Not only had they addressed the problem head-on, but they had also resolved it openly and directly. They had made their way through a jungle of emotions without getting trapped in tar pits of hopelessness or despair. For him, it was a revelatory experience, and it made attachments, in general, seem less daunting.
Afterward, he and Fiona had cuddled in bed, talking until sleep had claimed them. Even though they hadn’t made love, he’d liked having her close. Sleeping with Fiona, waking up next to her felt…right.
Everything with her did.
He swept aside her braid to nuzzle her ear. Savoring her shiver, he murmured, “Good morning, sweetheart.”
“Do you always wake up this way?” There was a catch of laughter in her voice.
“Aroused, you mean?” He plumped her breast, searching out the needy tip beneath her night rail. He pinched lightly, smiling when her breath hitched. “I’m afraid it is a common morning condition. Luckily for me, you are the cure. Now be a love and pull up your nightgown.”
