“Forgive me,” Evelyn murmured. “I am tired.”
“You should rest,” Lucy said at once. “We are delighted to see you, but you ought not sit here to keep us company. You must recover.”
“I am quite—” Evelyn began, only to cut herself off with a yawn.
“No, you are not,” Lucy said firmly. “Go upstairs. Sleep. We shall be here when you wake.”
Evelyn hesitated, then nodded. “I would like to rest.” She rose carefully—her legs felt weaker than she expected. She turned to her mother. “Mama, I hope you will excuse me?”
“Of course, my dear. Rest. We will be here when you return,” Mama said gently.
Evelyn thanked them and walked out into the hallway. She walked to her chamber, then turned as a voice hailed her from behind.
“Evelyn,” Sebastian called. His tone—low, warm, unmistakably intimate—sent a shiver through her. He wrapped his arms around her, his weight pressed against her, and Evelyn sighed; the exhaustion she had felt only moments earlier melting away beneath the heat of his nearness.
“Sebastian,” she murmured. She gazed up at him. “I was tired. I wished to rest,” she began. He smiled.
“As did I,” he replied. “Are you certain you wish to rest?” he asked and then brushed a kiss against her temple
Evelyn opened the chamber door, her pulse quickening. “No,” she admitted, grinning helplessly. “No, I find I am perfectly awake now.”
“As am I,” he murmured.
He stepped inside with her, closing the door behind them. In the soft daylight, his gaze swept over her with such reverenceand longing that her cheeks warmed. He drew her into his arms and began to ease open the buttons of her gown, leaning close to press slow, lingering kisses along her throat.
The dress slipped from her shoulders. Evelyn reached up, timid but determined, to loosen his cravat. He flushed—pleased, surprised—and smiled.
“It is not easy to undo someone else’s buttons,” she admitted, embarrassed.
“It is the greatest honour in the world to have you undo mine,” he replied with a smile.
A moment later, he gathered her into his arms and guided her back onto the bed with a care that made her breath catch
She giggled in delight, then gasped as his strong, naked body wrapped around hers and his lips found her own, wet and warm and clinging. His knee was between her thighs; his powerful chest pressed against her own. She gazed up at him. In the daylight that filtered through the bedroom window, she could see his powerful shoulders and strong chest, his biceps that rippled with muscle. He was a wondrous sight, an image of masculine beauty. She sighed and stroked his thick brown hair, revelling in the warmth of his closeness.
He kissed her body all over, beginning at her shoulders and moving down to her navel. As his mouth moved lower, she sighed, her eyes shut as she moaned and gasped and cried out at the pleasure that he aroused in her.
He straightened and entered her, moving with a reverential slowness that made the heat that flared in her loins grow and build and intensify until she was crying out again as wave after wave of sensation crashed through her.
He cried out too, at almost the same time, arcing back as he thrust into her, then groaning and collapsing, satisfied and sated, into her arms.
“Evelyn,” he breathed as he stroked her hair. “Evelyn. I do not know what I would do without you.”
“Nor I without you,” Evelyn said with a grin, stroking his cheek where he lay beside her. “You wonderful man.”
“You wondrous woman,” he whispered back.
They lay together, limbs entwined, skin warm and damp from the summer heat. Evelyn nestled against him, feeling utterly safe, utterly known. Sleep tugged at her gently.
“I love you,” she murmured, drifting.
“I love you too, Evelyn. With all my heart,” he answered, holding her as though he would never let her go.
She closed her eyes, and in his arms—while a lark sang somewhere beyond the window—Evelyn let herself fall peacefully into sleep.
Epilogue
The roses in full bloom that decorated the altar gave off a sweet scent that reached Evelyn’s nostrils. She leaned back in the pew of the small village church and watched.
