After the Wedding (The Worth Saga #2)(81)

She could hear the muffled sound of his voice, addressing the housekeeper, his footsteps as he ascended the stair.

Her hands clenched on the arms of her chair.

His footsteps stopped outside the door of her bedchamber.

There he was, rapping for entry.

“Yes?” She managed not to sound nervous.

Her whole chest burned, as if it were she being opened wide instead of the door.

He stood in the doorway.

She had no idea what he was thinking. She couldn’t tell; her own imagination was going so wild that he would have to tell her.

Their eyes met, his that dark, rich brown she had come to…what was the word? Ah. Yes. Love. She had come to love him. She had thought she loved him before, and every time she decided she did, she found new depths of emotion that made her see how shallowly she’d cared.

She knew how sweet he could be. How gentle. How clever. How… Everything.

It wouldn’t break her to lose him any more than any of her other losses had broken her. He’d helped her see that she was strong enough to withstand anything, even the loss of him. Still, she hoped that tonight, she wouldn’t need strength any longer.

“Camilla.” His voice was a low whisper. Slowly, he shut the door behind him. That was intent in his voice. He came to stand in front of her.

She ought to stand, but she wasn’t sure her knees could bear her weight.

Then he smiled at her, and her world broke into sunshine.

“Will you be mine?” he asked.

That painful ache in her chest squeezed more painfully. She was all too aware of her surroundings. Of the creak of the floor as he shifted toward her. Of the sound her breath made as it left her lips.

She could feel her mouth cracking into the most absurd smile she had ever worn. All the hope she had been nurturing—she had carried it this far, and she had finally been rewarded.

“Yes.” The word burst out of her. “Yes, yes. Yes, I will.”

His smile tilted; it felt almost tender.

They had found each other, and they would belong to each other.

He sat on the arm of the chair next to her. Slid his arm around her. “Will you be mine now?”

“In every way.”

His lips touched hers. There was a sweetness to his kiss, one she hadn’t expected.

“Horehound?” she murmured against his lips.

“Guilty.” He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer. “I bought a sack in town. I’m sorry it took me so long to return. I wanted to think things over, to be sure of what I wanted.”

She was what he wanted. She realized it with a sense of wonder. She was who this brilliant, wonderful man desired.

“I brought back most of it for you. I thought you might…”

“Like something to suck on?” Camilla said sweetly. “Why, yes. I suppose I would.”

He laughed and leaned to touch his forehead against hers. “My Camilla. I…”

“I’m going to make you happy,” she told him. “I want nothing more.”

He touched his fingers to her cheek. “I have every hope you’ll succeed.”

And then he kissed her. His lips were soft and gentle, and the touch of his hand, grounding her in place, made all those years of misery seem almost worth it. He had chosen her. He had chosen her.

They were married in name; they would be married in truth when they were finished.

He pulled her close, close enough that she could feel the strength in his arms, the planes of his chest. “God,” he said, “I’ve been wanting to do this for so long.”

Another kiss, this one long and lingering. He tasted sweet, like her future, and she could see it spread before them. She would take to being his wife with alacrity. She would introduce him to her family, and stand by him if they were rude; she would learn her duties and do whatever was required. She would have his children and make jokes with his brother and have a life filled with sunshine and joy.

She could hardly bear to believe that she had somehow earned this joy.

His hands slid to her ribs, and slowly he stood. She stood with him. It felt natural to touch him like this, natural for their bodies to wind around each other. He pulled her to the bed. They sank down against the covers together. His weight was solid on top of her, solid and real and here, and…

And, oh God, she still wasn’t prepared. She’d bolstered herself for heartbreak, but she’d wanted this. She’d wanted it so much.

He had chosen her. He had actually chosen her.

“I am going to make you so happy,” she whispered again. It was a promise; it was more. She had so much joy in her now that she could not possibly keep it all to herself.

His mouth levered hers open. He tasted of something that was dark and caramelly. She opened to him and to the unbearable sweetness of the moment.

“Camilla, sweetheart.” He slid to the side. She almost protested the loss of him, but he didn’t take his hands off her. Instead, he undid her sash. Camilla worked the laces of her gown, until they were loosened, and the whole thing could come off.

His eyes lingered on her ankle. His gaze shifted up…

“You lovely woman,” he breathed. He took off his own coat and laid it next to her gown.

He undid her corset; she fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. Every so often, their eyes would meet and their fingers would slip. She would stroke his satiny skin, or his knuckles would brush the tip of her nipple through her corset…