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“Are you all right?” he said as he came in, his attention on the soft slope of her neck and shoulder. “It was a long night.”

She turned. “I am. Thank you for being beside me tonight.”

“Of course.” He held her gaze. “You are my wife.”

She looked toward the fire. “You didn’t have to intervene. With Whitmore, and my father at the door⁠—”

“I know I didn’t.”

“I could have managed⁠—”

“Juliet.” He waited until she met his eyes. “I know you could have. You were already managing Vickers before I said a word. That wasn’t the point.”

She swallowed, and Adam’s fingers dug crescents into the callused flesh of his palms.

“The point is that you should not have to do it alone.” He looked at her steadily. “As I have told you before, you have made Eloise happier than she has been in years. The house is—” He stopped. “Different, since you came. I am not sure I have said so.”

“You don’t need to—” she started to say, but he shook his head.

“I do,” he said. “I do need to.”

“Thank you,” she said again.

Adam swallowed, feeling nervous for the first time in years. “I only wish you’d enjoyed more of the evening.”

“I managed well enough.”

“That is not what I said.” He paused. “You have not stopped since you came into this house. Eloise, the staff, the accounts, the public rooms. Every time someone says you’re doing too much, you call it your duty.”

“It is my duty.”

“It is more than that, and you know it.” He watched her chin come up. “You’re tired. You have been for weeks. And you will not say so.”

A short pause. “I’m not tired,” she said.

He looked at her.

“Not very tired,” she said.

He crossed the room toward her. He stopped close… close enough to see the candlelight in her eyes and the flush in her cheeks that the fire had not put there, and the loose curl resting against the white of her collarbone. He lifted his hand and took the curl between two fingers and set it back behind her shoulder. His hand stayed at the curve of her jaw. Her pulse beat under his fingertips, rapid and climbing.

She went very still. Her eyes came up to his and held there.

“You deserve to be taken care of,” he said quietly. “For a change.” He did not look away from her. “Let me make this evening better.”

She drew a breath. “Adam⁠—”

“Let me,” he said again, quieter.

The flush in her cheeks spread to her throat, and despite the rapid flutter of her pulse at her neck, she did not move away from his hand.

“Juliet…” He moaned, trailing off on the sound of her name alone, and her answering hitch of breath.

Heart pounding in his ears, Adam slowly tilted her face up toward him, and her wordless permission was enough to cut his reason off at the knees.

Adam claimed her lips.

Both hands were at her face, his mouth on hers, without any of the restraint that had held for the past several weeks.