He put his arms about me. He kissed my neck, and then whispered into my ear, “I want your biscuits just for me.”
My husband helped me make the dough between kisses.
By the time the room smelled of ginger, Mark’s numbness had left and he finally sunk his teeth into my decadent treat.
* * *
With a basket full of Cornish Fairings, my husband and I ran up the stairs of Anya House to the grand suite at the end of the hall.
We entered a royal-looking room painted in brilliant white with gilded moldings. The bed Mark sat me on was decked with white linens and scented in honey.
The room had been prepared for someone . . . not us.
It was made for Katherine.
Mark’s coat and shirt fell to the floor. He came to my side and took up my hand, placing it against his fast-beating chest.
The man was smooth and muscular. I could not stop touching him and letting him touch me.
“This room is beyond my imagination,” he said. “It’s magic.”
He kissed me. “Now that I’ve tasted your biscuits, I think all my dreams can come true.”
“The duke truly loves my sister. He’s waiting for her to love him again. I could see him wanting to do this for her.”
“Well, tonight, it is for us.”
Music vibrated through the floor. The rhythm was soft, perfect.
Mark lifted his chin. “Torrance is a brilliant and dangerous man. My father deserved everything he got tonight, but the duke put everything in motion for Prahmn’s downfall. I would hate to be on Torrance’s bad side.”
My husband began to kiss me and strip off my layers—the apron, the outer bronze-green gown, the inner of soft gold, down to my ivory corset and chemise. His fingers tugged at the satin ribbons holding me tightly. “Georgie, have I lost your interest, so soon? We haven’t begun, and I feel you drifting.”
I put my arms about him and held on to him to anchor me from my worrisome thoughts.
“You’re shivering. Darling, you are cold.” After stuffing a biscuit in his mouth and probably swallowing it whole, he pulled back the bedclothes and swaddled me in the sheets. “How is that, my Lady Mark Sebastian?”
“Perfect.” For the first time in a long time, I wouldn’t fret about the problems of the Wilcoxes. I had a husband who loved me, and we had the rest of our lives to help everyone out of their troubles.
“I love you, Mark. Please hold on to me.”
“I love you, Georgie. I won’t let you go.”
In his arms, growing as close as our hearts would allow, I found a place to shelter, a place of safety and kindness. And I was sure my new husband would help me remember where to run when I was in want of love.
EPILOGUE
Jahleel walked deeper into the maze with Katherine. “It seems, Lady Hampton, that our bet is a draw. Lord Mark and Miss Wilcox have married. And will again in the morning.”
“A Cossack wedding? At least I know it’s not just some lie you toss to women in need.”
“Yes, it’s true. A Cossack divorce is just as simple. A groom stands in the middle of a public square and declares he no longer is loved. That his mate is dead to him. Remember?”
“The bride can too. Right?”
He refused to answer. Tonight was about Georgina and Mark. “Your sister looked very happy.”
“Yes, she did. I hope they are happy forever. Young love is like that.” Katherine stopped moving and turned her lovely countenance to the night sky.
