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Her hands slid down to knead into his arse and she urged him forward so that his thigh pressed snuggly between hers.

“And there is no relief from the clawing urge to sink into you.” He filled his lungs with the fragrance of her skin, released a long, unsteady breath. “So, you see, my sweet, why I cannot simply have a taste of you.”

Her hips canted then, her quim dragging against the long muscle of his thigh.

“Mmm. Does that feel good, Sofi?

She did it again, more deliberately this time, her lips parting in a soundless gasp. Christopher wondered if he had ever seen anything more magnificent than the sight of Sofia aroused by his words and rutting against his thigh.

“I cannot touch you, my sweet, but I want to see you find your pleasure. It seems a travesty that you should suffer for my poor self-control. There you are. Yes, just like that.”

A knock sounded at the door.

“Christopher.” Gabriel sounded nearly as reluctant to interrupt as Christopher was to be interrupted. It did not make Christopher any less annoyed.

“Go away.”

Sofia let out the most adorable growl of irritation.

“Oh, Christopher,” came Oliver’s singsong taunt. “Enough fondling my sister. We want to show you something.”

“Ten minutes,” Christopher replied.

“Two minutes. You’re not married to her yet.”

Three weeks and Sofia would be his wife. Two days and six hours and the doctor would return to check her progress. Wife or not, there was no meddling from Oliver or reproach from Gabriel that would keep him from Sofia’s bed when the doctor deemed her fit to return to regular activities. She was his, and God willing, very soon he would spend every night making her abundantly glad of it.

“I swear to you Oliver, if you do not turn around and go back the way you came …” Christopher’s teeth gnashed in frustration, but a glance at Sofia showed she was shaking off her lust-filled haze. She placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

“Five minutes,” Oliver replied.

The footsteps retreated, and Christopher covered Sofia's hand, bringing it to his mouth to kiss the tender inside of her wrist.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I never should have let things get so out of hand without locking the door. Shall we go and see what they want?”

“If we must.”

“I’m not sure which of the brothers Anson is more obnoxious.”

Oliver, Gabriel, and Violet were waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs. Sofia had allowed their interruption to pass without complaint, but Christopher was still holding a grudge, and he made no attempt to wipe the annoyance from his face.

“My goodness. I had no idea Christopher could even make such a face.” Oliver shot Gabriel a look of mock surprise. “Good Lord, he is grumpy when he’s unsated.”

Gabriel pinned Oliver with a disapproving glare. “If you aren’t going to be respectful to your sister, at least have a care for my wife and mind your manners.” Shaking his head, Gabriel glanced down at the rolled-up piece of parchment he was holding and returned to the task at hand. “Christopher, Sofia, we have something for you. It’s a wedding present from all of us. A house,” he said, extending the offering.

Christopher carefully unwound the parchment, expecting to uncover a rudimentary set of blueprints. Clearly, however, Zachariah had played a part in their gift as well. The parchment in Christopher’s hand wasn’t just a house. It was a home. A home conjured from Violet's imagination with cheerful flowers, quaint architectural lines, and a bright blue front door, and brought to life by Zachariah.

Home. The rush of belonging Christopher experienced nearly brought him to his knees. A home of their own. Space to build a life with Sofia where their sons would never part with their wooden boats and their daughters’ would chatter to their mama each night as she lovingly braided their hair. He wanted to step into the picture beside Sofia and build that life with her. He glanced at Sofi, who seemed to be experiencing speechlessness as well, then up to the faces of his friends. His family.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you,” Christopher said.

“Just wait until you see it,” Violet replied. “It’s really very lovely.”

Christopher turned to Violet. “See it?”

Gabriel stepped in then, clapped him on the shoulder, and led them out the door. “You two have been rather conveniently distracted by one another. A team of workmen began building your home the morning Sofia awoke from her fever. The land on which it sits is entitled as part of the ducal estate. I know your funds are more than sufficient to purchase and build wherever you want”—Gabriel glanced down at the picture then back to Christopher—“but we wanted you both to know that you have a home here, always. Even if you decide to start a family elsewhere, this cottage will be waiting for you should you ever have need of it.”

Sofia threw her arms around Gabriel. Startled, he chuckled then returned her embrace.