He searched her face for a long moment, looking for doubt, for hesitation, for any sign that she might regret this. He found none.
“I love you,” he said quietly. “I ought to have said it a hundred times by now. But I was afraid. Afraid that if I gave the words voice, I might somehow undo everything. That you would wake from this and decide you had made a grievous mistake.”
“The only mistake,” Fiona replied steadily, “would be allowing fear to keep us apart another moment.”
He closed his eyes briefly, drew in a measured breath, and opened the door.
His chamber was spacious and unmistakably masculine, dominated by a great four-poster bed draped in dark velvet. A fire burned steadily in the grate, casting amber light across polished wood and heirloom furnishings—walls that had sheltered generations of Hales.
Christian drew her inside and closed the door.
The soft click of the latch seemed to echo.
They stood facing one another in the quiet warmth, the distance between them charged with meaning.
“I have imagined this,” he admitted. “More times than I should confess. You here. In my rooms. But I never truly believed—”
“Believe it,” she said, stepping forward. “Believe in me. Believe in us.”
She reached up and began to loosen his cravat.
His breath caught; his hands rose to still hers. “Fiona—”
“Let me,” she whispered. “Let me see you. No more concealment.”
Slowly, he lowered his hands.
She undressed him with deliberate care—cravat, coat, waistcoat—each layer removed like the shedding of armour. When she reached his shirt, her fingers trembled slightly as she unfastened each button, revealing warm skin inch by inch.
The birthmark caught the firelight—deep wine and shadowed rose, bold and unmistakable. She traced its edges with her fingertips and felt him shiver beneath her touch.
“Beautiful,” she murmured. “Truly beautiful.”
“Fiona.” His voice thickened. “I need—I need to touch you. May I?”
“Yes.”
His hands moved to the fastenings of her gown.
There was nothing hurried in what followed. He undressed her as though she were something rare and precious, pausing to press soft kisses to newly bared skin—her collarbone, thecurve of her shoulder, the hollow at her throat where her pulse fluttered. His mouth lingered reverently over the swell of her breasts, his touch both tender and awakening.
When at last they were both bare, they stood for a moment simply looking at each other. Fiona had never been naked before a man; yet she felt no shame. Only a deep, startling sense of being seen. Wholly seen, for the first time in her life.
Her gaze drifted downward, to the part of him she had not yet seen. He was magnificently made—broad and powerful, fully the measure of the rest of him. A flicker of apprehension mingled with unmistakable excitement, but the warmth unfurling low within her, deep and insistent, left no room for retreat.
“You are exquisite,” Christian breathed. “I want to remember every detail.”
“We have time.” She reached for him, pulling him toward her. “We have all the time we need.”
They fell together upon the bed in a tangle of limbs and breathless urgency. His mouth claimed hers until the room dissolved into sensation—into the taste of him, the solid weight of his body above hers, the steady heat of his skin against her own. His hands traced the curve of her waist, the swell of her hips, learning her with growing assurance. When his touch strayed lower, discovering the hidden warmth that answered him so readily, she arched helplessly, her body opening in instinctive invitation.
She explored him with equal devotion—the breadth of his shoulders, the firm planes of his chest, the dark sweep of the birthmark she had come to cherish. She kissed it again and again, feeling the tremor that passed through him each time her lips lingered there, hearing the broken cadence of his breath when she traced its edges.
“I love you,” she whispered against his skin. “Every part of you.”
“Fiona.” His voice fractured. “My Fiona. My—”
He kissed her deeply then, and she felt the shift—the moment when tenderness deepened into something fiercer. His body aligned with hers, firm and aching with restrained desire, and she opened to him without hesitation.
