Emmeline watched it all with Clara back in her arms, her chest so full it almost hurt.
Around her, the garden seemed golden. Lord Weston wiping his eyes again. Margaret looking away with suspicious brightness. Aaron discussing fleets and cousins and whether babies preferred ships or castles. Biscuit barking at absolutely nothing.
Her life, loud and imperfect and overflowing.
That night, after the house had quieted and Clara had been settled in the nursery, Emmeline stood before the open window of their chamber and let the summer air cool her heated skin.
“You are thinking too much,” Rowan said from behind her.
She smiled without turning. “You always accuse me of that when you wish to distract me.”
His footsteps crossed the room slowly. “Do you object?”
“Rarely.”
His hands settled at her waist. The touch was gentle at first, familiar and possessive enough to send warmth unfurling through her before he had even pulled her back against him. She closed her eyes as his mouth brushed the side of her neck.
“You were happy today,” he murmured, the words a low, vibrating hum against the column of her throat. “I watched you.”
“I noticed.”
His lips curved, catching the soft skin just beneath her jaw, his teeth grazing the sensitive pulse point until she gasped. “Did you?”
“Yes.” Her breath hitched completely as his large, calloused hand slid down her ribcage, past the waist of her silk gown, and over her stomach.
His thumb pressed into the flesh with a slow, devastating possessiveness that made her lower belly ache with a sudden, heavy heat.
“You were beautiful today,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, roughening as his palms swept down to cup the full curve of her hips, pulling her flush against him.
She turned in his arms, her silk nightdress bunching between them, until she was looking directly into the dark, glittering hunger of his gray eyes. “Only today?”
“Always.” The word was thick, almost a growl.
He caught her mouth in a kiss that stole the air from her lungs.
The restraint broke within seconds. Rowan let out a low, ragged sound and tangled his fingers into her hair, tilting her head back to feast on her mouth. His tongue parted her lips, claiming her with a fierce hunger that left her lightheaded. She gripped his bare shoulders, her nails digging into the hard muscle, intoxicated by the absolute surrender of his control.
He walked her backward, his boots clicking against the floorboards until the back of her knees hit the edge of the mattress. They tumbled onto the sheets together, a tangle of limbs and breathless, hot whispers.
Rowan rose above her on his hands, his gaze burning down into hers as his fingers caught the hem of her nightdress. He gatheredthe silk in his fists and drew it up over her hips, over her waist, and pulled it over her head, discarding it into the shadows.
The cool summer air from the open window hit her naked skin, but she was instantly scorched by the intensity of his stare.
“Listen to me.” He dropped down, his chest pressing against her breasts, his hand cupping her jaw to force her to meet his gaze. “After every year. After every gray hair you one day discover and blame on me. I will want you exactly like this.”
The tenderness of it struck deeper than desire, but before she could weep, he shifted, his hand sliding between her thighs to find her.
Emmeline cried out, her head arching back into the pillows as his fingers touched her. He stroked her slowly at first, learning the slick, needy heat of her, his thumb working the sensitive bead of her pleasure until she was writhing beneath him, her breath hitching in broken, sharp gasps.
“Rowan, please,” she whimpered, her hands moving down to clutch at his trousers, desperate for the friction of him.
He didn’t make her wait. He stripped off his clothes, throwing his shirt to the floor. When he returned to her, he was entirely bare, his dark hair falling across his forehead, his body lean and powerful and completely hers.
He settled between her thighs, one hand sliding beneath her hip, tilting her up. He pressed the blunt, aching tip of his length against her entrance, testing her wetness, lingering there until she wrapped her legs around his waist in silent, frantic demand.
“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice raw.
She opened her eyes, her vision blurred with tears of pure need.
