“A large part of me wanted that,” he said, and she giggled.
Stoker made a sound of exasperation and rolled his eyes. “How clever you are. Clever and naughty. What a lucky man I am to have such a clever, naughty wife.”
“In all seriousness, Stoker,” she said, “I will not hound you to, er, devour me. Of course, I will be happy to receive you however—”
“Do not insult me,” he teased. “It was miserable—before. You were correct on every score. You are always correct.”
“I am notalwayscorrect.”
“Could I commission a mural with that headline?” he mumbled, looking around. “It’s convenient that we should find ourselves on this corner. Do you know why?”
She studied the window of the milliner’s shop. “Are we going to... buy hats?”
He laughed. “Perhaps later. My London apartments are here.” He gestured above the shop. “Would you like to see?”
A slow drizzle began to fall, and Sabine shaded her eyes with her hand and gazed up. “May I bring my dog?”
“No,” he said and took up her hand. She laughed, summoning Bridget, allowing him to pull her into a passageway beside the milliner’s shop.
He unlocked the iron gate and they ducked beneath a stone arch. The gate led to a small brick courtyard blooming with roses. A stairwell led to a balcony and a wooden door. He scooped up the dog and deposited her beside a cat crouched disapprovingly in the corner. The dog ignored the other animal and sniffed around planters of roses and a stone bench. A sundial stood in the center of the courtyard, and Sabine stepped up to examine it. She brushed his shoulder, and he snaked out his hand to catch her wrist. Sabine looked up. He gave a demonstrative yank, snatching her to him.
She let out a satisfying little yelp and collided against his chest with a thud. He caught her up, digging his fingers into her hair and tipping her face up. Her eyes were bright with excitement and desire, and his own body surged, his heart thudding in his throat. They stood in the misty courtyard, frozen for a charged moment. He looked into the eyes that he hoped to see every day for the rest of his life and saw forever staring back. Autumn roses, the color of daybreak, bobbed around them, and the dog curled up in a dry spot beneath the bench and yawned.
Stoker gave a growl and swept a hand beneath Sabine’s knees, scooping her up. She gasped and threw her arms around his neck. He brought his mouth down hard on her lips, kissing away any doubt about his ability to engage or satisfy, kissing her until she broke her face away to breathe.
She clung to him as he strode to the iron steps that led to his rooms above the courtyard. He turned the key in the lock and kicked the door open with his boot. Sabine laughed as he carried her inside. He tossed her on the first available velvet surface and followed her down.
