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Her response was to clench tightly around his fingers. Tristan resigned himself to getting an answer later. She cried out, pulsing against him. Reggie opened her mouth, but no words spilled from them. So he lifted her and carried his intended to his bed.

He should go more slowly, but there would be a lifetime for that. Tonight, he would make the woman he loved his, for eternity. Moving over her, hardly able to believe that after years of accidental touches—and some not so accidental—years of learning everything there was to know about Regina, caring for her, loving her, wanting her, she would be his. Tristan’s hands covered her breasts.

“God, Reggie, you are divine.”

Her fingertips rested on his arms, which flexed instinctively under her touch. Straddling her, he watched as her eyes closed, Reggie’s back arching toward his touch. As he moved his hands from her breasts downward, her eyes flew open.

She looked at him, and Tristan hated the worry he now saw in her expression.

“’Twill fit beautifully,” he assured her. Reggie’s smile confirmed that had, indeed, been her fear.

“It will hurt,” she said as his fingers entered her once again. Ahh, such sweet wetness. Such longing, one he knew all too well.

“A bit.” He would never lie to her. “But soon it will pass.”

As she was ready for him and worried about what was to come, Tristan did not hesitate. He positioned himself, still unbelieving he was doing so, and entered her just slightly.

Tristan had found heaven. And they’d not even begun.

Slowly, he pushed and found her barrier. Propped over her with both hands now firmly on the bed where they’d once played dice as children, before either had known it was not appropriate to be alone together in his bedchamber, he looked into her eyes.

“I love you, Regina,” he said.

She blinked, understanding. This would, as firmly as the vows they would exchange in February, bind them together, forever. “I love you, Tristan.”

His name from her lips, Regina’s glorious naked body under him, her tight wetness encompassing him . . . ’twas too much. He thrusted, hard enough to know he’d break the barrier quickly. She cried out, gripping his forearms. Leaning down even further, Tristan distracted her with the kind of kiss that can only come from a lifetime of loving someone.

She responded immediately. Kissed him back, her tongue tangling and teasing him as surely as his did hers. When she began to move her hips, Tristan pulled out ever so slightly. And then thrusted again, gently at first, but then with increasing vigor. His tongue matched their movements, and when Regina’s low moan told him she found pleasure, Tristan became unrelenting.

He reached between them, pressing his thumb to her. Circling, thrusting and losing himself completely in a woman who two days ago he’d grabbed from behind wanting to kiss. To profess his love to. To ask if she loved him the same way. And now, they were in his bed, Reggie having agreed to become his wife.

Never would he leave her for so long a period again. The thought of being without her made his movements more deliberate. He would show her pleasure this Christmas night, tomorrow, and every day for the rest of their lives.

“Tristan,” she moaned against his lips. Content to pull away if only to see Reggie’s face as her nails dug into him, as her hips met his every thrust, as she cried out . . . Tristan willed himself to hold on. “Tris,” she said again, this time as her entire body shuddered. Closing around him, the spasms were his undoing.

With a final thrust, Tristan buried himself in her, his own body tensing and then blissfully releasing. But he refused to close his eyes. He wanted to see everything. Her widened eyes, and the love between them. Her mouth now open, as if in wonder.

Tristan captured those full lips one last time, telling her without words that would be the first of many, many times he’d love her in such a way. His betrothed. His love.

His best friend.

Chapter Nine

They were wed.

After a month of planning, of excitement. Of learning to be Tristan’s lover as well as his friend, with their families and, it seemed, all of Camburg in attendance, they had just exchanged the vows that truly bound them together for life.

When the priest bid them to turn to face the crowd, Camburg’s great hall as filled as it had been that Christmas Day, cheers erupted. Some, Regina knew, were excited at the prospect of a baker’s daughter, an apprentice, marrying the lord’s son. Others were glad to see Sir Tristan married at all, as his parents were not the only ones worried about the future of Camburg Castle. They’d had a more-than-twenty-year tenure under a good and fair lord. Life was never easy along the border, but Camburg was well fortified, well trained, and with the backing of the overlord, rarely directly threatened.

“I’ve a surprise for you,” Tristan whispered in her ear. “Would you come with me now, before the feast begins in earnest?”

The crowd began to disperse as servants ushered them to the far side of the hall. Transforming for the wedding feast before their eyes, trestle tables being lowered from their position against the walls as some left to return to work and others mingled as they waited for the festivities to ensue.

“Can we leave now?” she asked.

In response, he took the flowers from her hand and handed them to Cateline. Taking her hand, Tristan weaved them through the crowd to the very back of the hall. There, they made their way through a door that she knew led to a stairwell and then exit. But at the bottom of the stairs, there were two doors. Regina didn’t remember the second one being there.

Indeed, Tristan opened it and led her through a covered walkway. When she shivered, Tristan put his arm around her shoulder. “I’d have fetched your mantle, but we’ve arrived already.”