“It is.” He tightened his arms around her. “You are my wife, Sophia. In every way that matters now. And I intend to spend a very long time proving that I am worthy of you.”
She was quiet for a moment. Then she pressed a kiss to his chest, directly over his heart.
“You already are.”
Edward closed his eyes and held her close. The fire crackled. The night deepened. And for the first time in years, he fell asleep with something that felt dangerously like peace.
Morning light spilled through the curtains and painted golden stripes across the tangled sheets.
Edward woke slowly, awareness returning in pieces. The warmth of another body pressed against his. The scent of lavender and something uniquely Sophia. The soft sound of her breathing, deep and even with sleep.
He opened his eyes and found her still in his arms, exactly where she had fallen asleep hours before. Her face was relaxed, unguarded, and looked younger in repose. Her hand rested over his heart as though she had been measuring its rhythm in her dreams.
He could have watched her forever.
But the household would wake up soon. Servants would appear with breakfast trays and fresh water. The day would begin, whether or not they were ready for it.
Edward brushed his lips against her temple. She stirred, murmuring something unintelligible, and her eyes fluttered open.
“Good morning.” His voice was rough with sleep.
She blinked up at him, confusion giving way to memory, memory giving way to a smile that lit her entire face.
“Good morning.” She stretched against him like a cat, her body arching in ways that tested his already fraying self-control. “You stayed.”
“I told you I would.” He pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Did you doubt me?”
“Not for a moment.” She kissed him properly, slowly and thoroughly, with her hands sliding into his hair.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing harder than before, Edward groaned.
“If you keep doing that, we will never leave this bed.”
“Would that be so terrible?” Her eyes sparkled with mischief.
“No.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “But Oliver will expect us at breakfast. And if we don’t appear, he will come looking. And then I will have to explain to a four-year-old why his uncle and aunt are still in bed at ten in the morning.”
Sophia laughed, the sound bright and unrestrained, and Edward felt it resonate through his entire body.
“Very well.” She pressed one last kiss to his lips and slipped out of his arms. “But tonight, you are mine.”
He watched her cross the room, reaching for her dressing gown, the morning light gilding her skin. She glanced back at him over her shoulder, caught him staring, and smiled.
“Tonight.” He echoed the promise. “And every night after.”
Her smile widened. She disappeared behind the dressing screen, and Edward fell back against the pillows, staring at the canopy above.
He had spent so long afraid of this. Afraid of wanting, of needing, of opening himself to the possibility of loss. And now, lying in a bed that still smelled of her, listening to the soft sounds of her preparing for the day, he could not remember why.
This was worth the risk. She was worth the risk.
He rose and gathered his scattered clothes, dressing quickly. By the time Sophia emerged from behind the screen, her hair pinned and her morning dress fastened, he was decent enough to be seen.
He crossed to her and took her hands in his. “Breakfast with Oliver and then back to reality.”
“Back to reality.” A shadow flickered across her face.
“Back to our life.” He lifted her hands to his lips and kissed each one in turn. “Our home. Our family. I rather think that is a good thing.”
