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She nodded. “It feels like a hot blade was jammed into my back. It burns and aches.”
Not too far from the truth there.
“I’m so glad you are awake, my love. You scared ten years off my life.” He eyed the mattress. There was plenty of room for him to sit beside her, but Stan didn’t want to jostle Ophelia.
“Come.” She patted the bed. “I would have you lie beside me.”
Tentatively, taking care not to bump her or move the mattress unnecessarily, he lay down beside her. He propped his head on one elbow.
“I was so afraid I would lose you, Ophelia.”
“You look tired.” She grazed her fingertips across his bristly jaw. “And you need a shave.”
“I couldn’t leave you.” Stan clasped her hand and kissed her exploring fingers.
“I think I knew you were here,” she murmured. “I felt your presence.”
Gazing into her eyes, he saw her love reflected for him there. How this remarkable woman could love him, he couldn’t comprehend. Brushing a kiss on her cheek, he trailed his knuckles along her jaw. “I love you, Ophelia.”
Such joy lit her hazel eyes that his heart seemed as if it might explode from his chest.
“I didn’t know.” Eyes wide with wonder, she said, “I would’ve told you that I loved you sooner, but I was afraid you didn’t feel the same way.”
“I think I’ve loved you from the first moment I saw you, my darling. My heart knew you were the one for me, and I botched the whole thing by declaring we would suit. That was about as romantic as a swim in the Thames in winter.” Stan kissed her mouth. “But I knew I loved you when you told me I couldn’t always have my own way.”
“That made you fall in love with me?” Ophelia scrunched her nose. “I wasn’t at my best that night.”
“Neither was I.”
She lay a hand on his chest, right above where his heart pulsed a robust and steady rhythm. “I do love you, Stanford. I didn’t expect to.” Ophelia glanced away for a moment then returned her attention to him. “But I do, and I don’t want to wait to consummate our vows any longer. I want to have your child.”
Yes, the human heart could burst from happiness.
“I was naming our children while you slept,” he said. “Alphabetical names, in point of fact.”
“Alphabetical?” Ophelia looked thoroughly nonplussed. “You’re not serious.”
“Anastasia and Aleric. Bernadette and Bentley. Chesney and Chandler. Delphine and Demetrius. Estelle and Emerson.” He raised a finger each time. “You said you wanted five children.”
A giggle escaped her before she clapped a hand over her mouth. “Those are…interesting names. Florencia and Frederick for F?”
Stan recalled that day in her sister’s drawing room when they’d become officially betrothed. She’d teased him then too.
“Minx.” He growled good-naturedly and nipped her shoulder.
“Can we not make love, Stan? I’m ready.” A delightful blush tinted her cheeks. “I’ve been ready.”
Stan’s groin tightened at her invitation. “As much as I’d love to accept that most tantalizing invitation, my dear, we will have to wait until you are fully recovered.”
“How long will that take?” A pout turned her mouth downward, and she angled her head. She was quite endearing in her sulk. “I’ve already waited three weeks.”
Eyebrows raised, Stan said, “As long as it takes for you to fully recover. I shall take no risks with your health.”
“Botheration,” she muttered before giving a dramatic sigh.
“But, my wanton wife, there are other ways to find pleasure together.”
Her gaze careened back to his, inquisitive and hopeful. “There are?”
“Indeed, there are.” Trailing a finger along the edge of her bodice, he grinned.
“Will you show me?”
And he did. Quite satisfactorily too.
