“I want you, Sophia,” Edward whispered, then kissed a trail of kisses up her belly and between her breasts. “I want to feel myself inside of you. Filling you. Is that what you want, my love?”
Yes.
Sophia didn’t know if she had said the word aloud, as her body answered. She pulled him deep inside of her, wrapping one leg around his waist, allowing him no room to escape. Her hips rocked up, and he joined the rhythm, thrusting deep inside of her.
Her body convulsed and pulsed as he thrust harder inside of her. Pleasure spread from her pearl down to her toes. It felt eternal. A forever promise. She clung to him in wonder as the feeling crested and opened her up to him. She cried out his name as his thrusts grew more urgent. When he roared out her name, she felt suspended in time. This was right. Here in his arms.
When she finally drew her breath again, she pressed her face against his shoulder, anchoring herself to him with her body. Anchoring him to her heart.
Afterward, they lay tangled together in the late morning light, Sophia’s head pillowed on Edward’s chest, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her bare shoulder. The sheets were a ruin around them. Neither cared.
“We should probably rise,” Sophia murmured, though she made no move to do so. “The servants will talk.”
“Let them.” Edward pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “We are married. This is precisely what married people are supposed to do.”
She laughed and nestled closer. His heartbeat was steady beneath her ear, strong and sure and hers.
“Oliver will want to see us.”
“Oliver can wait.” But Edward’s voice was soft with affection. “Though I suppose we should tell him that things are better now. He has been worried. He told me I should say sorry.”
Sophia traced the line of his jaw with her fingertip. “Wise beyond his years, that one.”
“He learned from you.” Edward caught her hand and kissed her fingers. “He said that when he makes a mistake, you tell him to say sorry and try to do better.”
“And did you?” Her eyes sparkled. “Say sorry?”
“I believe I did.” His lips curved. “Several times, if I recall.”
Edward rolled onto his side, pulling her with him until they faced each other on the pillows. His eyes roamed over her face, memorizing every detail, as though he could not quite believe she was real.
“I meant what I said.” His voice was quiet. “Every word. I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you.”
“You have already started.” She pressed her palm to his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart. “The gossip sheet. Coming for me in the alley. Staying up all night to make sure I was safe.”
“It is not enough.”
“It is a beginning.” She smiled. “And we have the rest of our lives for the rest.”
He pulled her close and kissed her again, soft and sweet and full of promise.
Outside the window, London carried on with its noise and bustle, indifferent to the small miracle unfolding within these walls. But inside the chamber, in the warm tangle of sheets and limbs and whispered promises, two people who had been broken made each other whole.
Sophia closed her eyes and let herself rest in Edward’s arms, her heart so full it ached.
This was what happiness felt like. This was what she had been searching for all along.
This was home.
EPILOGUE
TWO MONTHS LATER…
“The roses are magnificent this year.”
Lord Brimsey leaned on his cane and surveyed the gardens of Heatherwell Hall with obvious pleasure. The color had returned to his cheeks over the past months, and his frame had filled out. His eyes were bright with renewed vitality.
“The gardener deserves the credit.” Sophia tucked her hand through her father’s arm. “I merely point and make suggestions.”
