"Let them. We're wedded. We're allowed to be as loud as we want."
"That's a dangerous permission to give yourself."
"Everything about you is dangerous to me."
They moved to the bed, and Clara thought about their journey here, from children in a garden to broken adults finding each other again to this moment, wedded, in love, and free to be together without restraint.
"No more rules," Gabriel said against her throat.
"No more boundaries."
"No more pretending this is anything other than what it is."
"Which is?"
"Everything. You're everything, Clara."
"You're everything too."
And then there were no more words, just touch and breath and the kind of joy that came from finally, finally being able to love without limits.
Later, much later, they lay tangled together, watching the fire die to embers.
"We should go down to dinner," Clara said without any real intention of moving.
"We should do many things. Doesn't mean we will."
"The staff prepared a wedding dinner."
"The staff is probably grateful we're not there to scandalise them further."
"We don't scandalise them."
"Clara, Cook has a running commentary on our bedroom activities that she shares with half the county."
"She does not."
"She does. Edmund told me. Apparently, we're quite the entertainment."
"That's mortifying."
"That's fame."
Clara laughed, burying her face in his chest. "I can't believe we're husband and wife.”
“I can scarce credit my singular good fortune in finding myself irrevocably yours.”
"I can't believe it took us this long."
"Eight years of wasted time."
"Not wasted. We became who we needed to be to get here."
"Very philosophical for someone who just…"
She covered his mouth with her hand. "Do not finish that sentence."
He licked her palm, making her squeal and pull back. "I was going to say 'who just wedded a duke.'"
