“I will apply to the Archbishop for a special license. I don’t want to wait a day longer than I have to, to make you mine.”
Honora felt a watery smile break over her face, raising herself on her toe to search for his mouth with hers.
Their kiss tasted of tears, and remorse, with a sweet tang of hope lingering at the edges as they kissed desperately, uncaring of who might see.
“I thought I lost you,” she murmured against his lips. Rubbing her cheek against his jaw.
Silas cupped her face in his palms, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.
“Never. You will never be without me again.”
Epilogue
ONE YEAR LATER
Honora wasbusy organising a pile of sketches in her new workroom. The space was much larger than the little parlour from before her marriage, but somehow she had managed to fill the airy room almost to the rafters with her clutter.
The Season was drawing to a close, and she couldn’t wait to close up the London townhouse and remove to Althorpe Hall for the summer. She smiled as she worked, thinking happily of the daily morning rides she and Silas would take once they were settled in the country. Samson had already been sent ahead to wait for her arrival.
Silas had quite surprised her when he announced he would be taking his seat in Parliament this season. He had claimed he needed something to challenge him, but secretly she wondered if he wasn’t trying to redeem himself somehow in Benedict’s eyes for the way things had turned out with Warwick.
No matter, as long as Silas was happy, Honora was happy.
Many a night she had worked contentedly at his side on her own projects as he prepared a speech or discussed some or other weighty topic with Benedict.
Afterwards, fired up by the evening’s debate, Silas would scoop her into his arms and ravish her senseless on the couch. Or the library floor. Sometimes they even made it to the bedroom.
Honora smiled to herself, picking up a sketch of her husband that she had done just the day before. He was hunched over his desk, frowning down at the pages scattered over the surface.
He looked quite stern in the drawing, and she imagined how fierce he must be when delivering an address to his peers.
Boots thudded in the hall and Silas opened the door, wandering into her room with a lazy smile curling over his lips.
He looked sinfully handsome, although his hair was shorter now, and Honora’s fingers itched to rake through the tousled locks and tug him down for a kiss.
“What are you busy with, sweetheart?” he said, snatching the drawing from her fingers and scowling down at the page.
He flicked his eyes at her, cocking his head and raising a brow as he inspected his likeness.
His lips twitched with amusement, and he threw himself onto the chaise in the corner, languidly laying an arm along the backrest as he waved the page in her direction.
“I do not look like this.”
“Oh, but you do, sweeting,” said Honora with a grin, dropping to her knees beside the chaise and staring up at him with a mischievous expression.
“You are most talented, Honora, but alas, you use your gift for devilish amusements,” smirked Silas in return, watching intently as Honora slowly walked her fingers up the length of his toned thigh, skimming lightly over the growing bulge behind his falls.
“Is that so?” Honora dropped her gaze to her hand as it flattened over the taut plane of his stomach.
Silas grabbed her wrist, trapping it there as he demanded her attention return to his eyes.
“Yes, and I think you need to be punished.”
His voice was a low growl, the vibration running down her arm and settling in that place deep in her hips that twisted with growing arousal.
“Oh?” she blinked innocently, dropping her cheek to his thigh, her face inches away from his thickening cock. “How?”
“I have some ideas,” smirked Silas, his eyes darkening as he reached down and snagged a length of thick ribbon discarded on the floor.
