“I love you,” she whispered against his mouth. “I’m so sorry I hurt you. That’s what I was saying. Go ahead and be angry with me. I deserve it. I’ll still love you when you’re done with the mad.”
Their cheeks were damp, from either the rain or tears, he didn’t know. “Say it again.”
“I love you. I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.”
“Do you mean it? This week has been hell on us both. I can’t do it anymore.”
“I need you to trust me one more time, and I know that’s asking a lot.” Rain clumped her lashes into dark spikes as she looked up at him. Her hands hadn’t left him since that shattering kiss. She smoothed a finger across his bottom lip, leaving a trail of sensitized tingles in its wake.
“Just tae be clear, I want everything, lass. A real marriage. A life together. A home. Perhaps children. I want the right tae kiss you for no other reason than that it’s three o’clock on a Thursday.”
Lottie let loose a watery laugh as he drew her closer to his chest. “Is that what day it is? I’ve lost track.”
The lump that had been in his throat finally went away, and he drew a shuddery breath. “I want tae hear you laugh every day.”
“Even though I hurt you?”
God, had she ever. Moving past that moment of devastation in the library had to be a choice. The decision came easier with her in his arms. “I’m no’ blind, lass. There will be hurt feelings sometimes. You’re a bossy, managing sort, an’ I’m a stubborn arse. Good thing we both believe in second chances.” Ethan tucked a loose curl behind her ear, then caught one of her tears with a thumb.
“I feel I should warn you that I might not be good at this. I’ve never been a partner. All I’ve ever done is either take over or stay silent and feel trod upon.”
“If you’re willing tae bend, then I’ll bend tae meet you.”
“What if we butt heads all the time?”
He laughed—something he’d thought impossible a half hour before. “Oh, lass—we will butt heads. I guarantee it.”
The buzz whipping through him must be how birds felt when they danced on wind currents. Free, confident they wouldn’t fall. She linked her fingers behind his neck, then burrowed her nose under his jaw. A happy giggle escaped her, making him grin wider.
Ethan tightened his arms around her waist. “Marry me, Lottie? For real this time.”
“Take me to Scotland. Let’s get married where you grew up,” she said.
“That sounds like the best plan anyone has ever had in the history of plans.”
Ezra butted his head between them and whuffled in her face, making Lottie laugh again. “Hi, boy. Want to go to Scotland? I’m sorry that means you’ll be tied to the back of the carriage again.” They threaded their fingers together and headed to the waiting carriage. “Besides, there’s still Montague to deal with. I don’t know what you have planned, but I want to see it through to the end.”
* * *
In the carriage, Lottie slipped into her place at his side. She’d done it—told him she loved him—and now she’d be married in a few short hours.
The coach dipped and swayed, and they fell into each other, riding the movement, hanging on to one another. Those dark curls she loved so much, damp from the rain, tangled around her fingers, tying them together. The taste of him was a welcome home. Heat rose within her, as it did each time they kissed, but this time she let it burn unchecked.
Need—that constant companion when he touched her—clawed, demanding she get closer, press harder, love deeper. When Ethan pulled her into his lap, she helped bunch the wet fabric of her skirts high up her hips so she could straddle him. A happy sigh escaped her, turning into a moan when the juncture of her legs—with that marvelous epicenter of sensation—rode the ridge in his breeches. The building tension brought heat, with a tingling that began at her toes and traveled up the back of her legs, to wrap around her inner thighs. With frantic, fumbling fingers, Lottie opened the placket of his breeches, reacquainting herself with his length.
Breaking the kiss, Ethan leaned his head against the velvet padded wall, groaning. “We don’ have a French letter.”
A bead of moisture pooled at the head of his cock before she spread it around the crown with a thumb. “Do we need one? Think of this as our wedding night, a few hours early. Didn’t you say the Scottish were fine with playing fast and loose with the formalities? We can make our public declarations tonight with the minister but make private promises here. Just you and me making vows.”
Ethan nuzzled her ear, placing kisses along her jaw. Before he reached her mouth, he pulled back. “Another excellent plan. I love you, Charlotte Wentworth. You have my heart an’ my trust. I give you my hand, my name, my love, and my protection. All I have is yours. How do you English say it in the Book of Common Prayer? With all my worldly goods, I thee endow.”
“I promise
