Epilogue
Three weeks later
Frederick winced as he took his place beside Alice in the pew.
She gripped his hand tightly, glowering up at him.
“If you hurt too much, you should never have come,” she whispered, though she knew he would never agree to stay away.
She should have seen he was still in pain and insisted that he stay behind.
“And miss Helena’s wedding?” he demanded in a whisper. “I could never have done such a thing.”
Mr. Kingsley stood at the head of the church, his hands tucked behind his back, the picture of calmness. But Alice spied the way he kept wiping his forehead.
“A summer wedding,” she said. “It is auspicious.”
“Are you suggesting that our wedding was not?”
“Our wedding was the best thing that could ever have happened to me,” she smiled, leaning against his good shoulder for a moment. “But even you must admit, it was far from auspicious.”
Frederick laughed and linked his fingers more firmly through hers. “Very well. I will admit it was not auspicious. Yet we defied the odds.”
Alice’s smile felt soft on her face. “That we did.”
She could hardly believe they were here now.
A month ago, when Charlotte had drugged her and attempted to ruin Frederick’s reputation, she had thought the life she had come to love was over.
But here they were—in exchange for Charlotte recanting all the rumors she had spread, admitting her fault, Frederick had agreed not to summon a magistrate or seek justice—and he had forgiven Alice.
He loved her. And she loved him.
Every time she thought about it, she felt giddy.
The doors opened and the organ played, and Helena walked down the aisle, accompanied by her brother.
Lord Denshire glanced at them as he passed, and although there had never been any love lost between the two of them, she thought he inclined his head in a show of respect.
Helena was radiant, filled with pure joy for the man standing opposite her.
A small pang filled Alice, that she had never experienced that, but then she remembered the man beside her. As though he knew what she was thinking, he squeezed her hand more firmly.
It wasn’t proper to tell one’s husband you loved him in public, so she squeezed back, hoping he would understand what she meant. And by the manner in which he glanced at her, an incandescent expression in his eyes, he did.
After the wedding breakfast, they returned home. Frederick made his way to the library, as was their routine, and Alice followed, as had become her habit. He moved slowly, laboriously, and she altered her plans as he finally sank into the armchair by the fire. His ribs still pained him.
The love they had seen in the church still ran through her, and she sank to her knees before him. His eyes widened, darkening almost instantly. She would never tire of the reaction she provoked from him.
“I have something to say,” she whispered. “And I hope you will come to agree with me.”
“And what’s that?”
She slid her hand across him where he was already hard. He shifted, pushing his hips into her, and she smiled. “When we first came together, Frederick, I expressed a desire to… I asked you not to make me with child.”
He stilled. “What are you saying?”
She reached inside the fall of his breeches and withdrew his length, then pressed her lips to it.
“I have changed my mind. I love you, Frederick. I want to bear your children—I want a family with you, and—” She yelped as he reached down with his good hand, bringing her up so he could kiss her on the mouth.
“I thought at one point this day would never come,” he said huskily. “Do you know how long I’ve dreamed of this?”
“I would not have been a good mother before now. But now I want to be the mother of your children.” She glanced at him shyly, trying to read his response. He kissed her again, silencing any of her doubts that he didn’t want her. Yes, he most certainly did. “Does that please you?”
“Yes. Lord, yes, Alice. You can’t know how much.”
“Then stay there,” she grinned, pulling back and seating herself before him.
She kneeled by his feet, taking his erection in her hands once more and bringing it to her mouth.
He watched in avid fascination as she slid him past her lips, taking him deep.
A groan wrenched from him, and she smiled a little as she withdrew, then sank back down on him.
There were few things she loved more than giving her husband pleasure. This was most certainly one of them.
How she loved him. There were so many things she wanted from their life together, but for the first time in her life, she had no doubts about what her future would bring.
His hand twisted in her hair, guiding her movements—long and slow. She cupped him lower in her other hand, and let her tongue flick across the sensitive skin of his head. He groaned again, and she felt him swell, throbbing in her mouth.
“Not yet,” she told him, smiling as she kissed him again, waiting until his need subsided. “That was remarkably quick, dear husband.”
“The sight of you there, taking me in your mouth…” His voice trailed away, unusually deep, and she glanced up to find him still watching her. “And knowing you want my seed in you—” He thickened in her hand again.
“Mm. So you are telling me I should go slowly?”
He groaned again, tipping his head back. “You will be the death of me, wife.”
“Not for a great while yet, I hope.” She brought her mouth back on him. “Do you promise?”
“I promise.” His words came raggedy and breathless, fingers tightening in her hair. Her own tender flesh throbbed between her legs, and she knew when she sank on him that she would be ready.
But she didn’t have a chance to do as she planned. Frederick’s hand tugged at her, bringing her off him. He twitched against his stomach, and she could see how close he was to spilling again. The sight made her ache more desperately, liquid and wanting.
“The rug,” he commanded tersely, rising and lying against the ground. He used his good hand to steady her as she brought her skirts up and stepped over him to straddle him. “Slowly, Alice, lest it’s over before it’s even begun.”
“If it is, we have later tonight.” She leaned down to kiss him. “Tomorrow, as many times as we please. The next day. And the next.”
“You won’t be leaving your bedchamber,” he growled. “I will keep you in there until I’m finished with you.”
“That’s well by me.” She brought his head through her slickness, using him to rub where she needed the most. The pleasure that sang through her made her shudder.
She, too, felt as though lightning surged through her body every place they touched.
They were as united in this as they were in everything else.
It would take very little to bring her to her peak, and so she did as he watched her, chest rising and falling with every breath, his eyes so filled with admiration, it almost hurt.
When she slid him inside her, it felt like coming home.
As though for all the years of her life they had been apart, she had been empty of something.
Missing something. And now, in the warmth of his arms, the safety of his embrace, the security of the love they shared for one another, she had found that missing piece.
“You complete me,” she gasped as she moved, his good hand holding her hip, steadying her.
“You are my heart…” he breathed huskily. “You are so beautiful. I love you.” He pushed up into her, and she saw stars. Her hold on control shattered, and she fell apart on top of him, shuddering as he thrust inside her once, twice, many more times, emptying himself inside her.
She slid off him and onto the rug before the empty fireplace, and he tucked her under his arm, holding her against him. “Are you all right?” she asked, shaking, feeling as though she had broken apart and come back together.
He kissed her forehead so tenderly, she felt her eyes fill. “With you? I am the best I have ever been.”
The End?