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He had spoken without thinking—the words slipping out in an unguarded moment.

Regardless, he did not regret them.

Not one iota.

The ache of weeks apart pummeled through him, overwhelming and unrelenting. How had he survived without her?

Her eyes softened at the corners, and the emotion Shelby had longed to see shining in their depths shone for all the world to witness. She hadn’t said the words he longed to hear, but she did not hide her love, either.

Emotion choked him, and he cleared his throat.

“Aye, our girl.”

He had always considered himself a man of action rather than sentiment, but at this moment…

This was everything.

More than words, more than vows.

His pulse raced when she looked at him, his entire being attuning to hers. Even if she never spoke the words aloud, he would still know.

And yet…

He yearned to hear them. Needed to.

His hand tingled as he trailed a fingertip down her petal-like cheek.

Her lashes fluttered low over her eyes before she popped her eyelids open wide.

“Please do come inside, Shelby, before the gossips start wagging their tongues.”

Probably too late for that.

She glanced up and down the street, her cheeks turning a becoming pink before grabbing Shelby’s hand and practically hauling him into the entryway.

At her innocent touch, an electric jolt zipped to his nether regions.

Control yourself, Shelby Doran Elliot Tellinger.

You’re not a rutting stag.

The cottage smelled of cinnamon and fresh bread.

Shelby drew in a slow breath, grounding himself. The warmth of the space, the comfort of her presence, wrapped around him like a healing, comforting balm.

This was home.

Not the walls, not the furnishings, not even the delicious aromas.

Wherever Roxina was, that was home.

He had never belonged anywhere—not truly—until now.

Until her.

And if she would have him, if she would trust him, then no force in England or beyond would tear him from her side.

Appearing slightly flustered, Roxina gifted him a beatific smile.