“Dead?” Emily gasped. It reminded her just how serious the past day had been.
“I’ll hand him over to the crown, but his execution will not take long, I am certain of that.”
“I’m glad we’re going home.”
He reached for her hand, lacing her fingers into his. “Me too.”
She lay her head on his shoulder, sighing softly. “Will it be safe?”
“We’ll make certain it is.” He pulled her onto his lap. “I would never allow anything to happen to you, Emily.”
She held him tight. “I’ve always known that.” She drew in a deep breath. “Did I put us in danger by insisting that we return to London?”
He kissed her again, his hand sliding down her body. “No. In fact, if we hadn’t turned, they might have sneak-attacked us in the night when we weren’t prepared.”
She gasped, sitting up straighter in his lap. “So I helped?”
“Of course you did.” He brushed back her hair and then gave her another kiss, his tongue dipping into her sweet mouth.
He wanted to tell her so much more, but as their mouths met again and again, he stopped thinking. They were safe, they were returning to London and her family.
She was everything he needed in this world and she was his.
Epilogue
One week later…
Emily lay in his large bed, blankets barely covering her as she propped her head on her hand, giving him a sassy smile.
She stole his breath.
“Well, Your Grace…” She gave him another teasing grin. “We did it. We got married. Again.”
He chuckled, moving to the end of the bed and slowly parting the curtains on the end and climbing up the mattress and up her body. “We did.” He kissed her ankle, her knee, the inside of her thigh. “Was it as romantic as you’d imagined?”
She slid onto her back. “It was lovely. But this…” She gave him a long look, a brow quirking. “This is my favorite part.”
He growled out his assent, kissing her hip and then the spot just below her belly button. “Mine too.”
She ran her hands through his hair as he kept kissing higher and higher. He stopped for just a moment to lift his head and look up at her. “After Abigail’s wedding, we can leave on a honeymoon if you like.”
She shook her head just before his lips pressed to her. “No. We’ve already been on one trip, that was quite enough for me.”
He chuckled at that. “We’ll honeymoon here, then. Spend days in bed.”
She slipped her legs about his, the friction causing him to groan again. “Oh. I like that plan very much.”
“I could teach you all the places to kiss a person that will make them moan in pleasure.”
She laughed, pulling his hair a bit as she looked down at him. “And you can start teaching me the business.”
He laughed at that. “I know you are in a hurry, but do you think we could wait a few days for that? My pride is smarting that you’re not swept away by my passion for you.”
She tsked, pulling him up to kiss his mouth. “I have been swept away by you from the first moment I met you. And you…” She kissed him again. “Are helping me to be a stronger person in every way.”
He looked down in the liquid warmth of her gaze. “And you make me a more compassionate one. Thank you, Emily, for allowing me to be your husband. I love you so much, more than I could ever say.”
“I love you too,” she said, and they joined together, making love sweetly and passionately until they were both spent.
When they finally lay in each other’s arms, Brandon stroked her cheek. “I’ll show you the books tomorrow.”
“Really?” She tried to lift her head but ended up allowing it to fall back on the pillow.
“Really. I want whatever is best for you. Always.”
She touched her nose to his. “I know. You are best for me.” Then she closed her eyes. “And perhaps we can wait one more day for those lessons to begin.”
He didn’t answer as she snuggled down into his side, but he knew the moment she fell asleep.
Curling her into his body, he closed his eyes too. He was home. He never wished to be anywhere else.
Untitled
Baron of Blasphemy
Lords of Scandal
Tammy Andresen
Baron of Blasphemy Lords of Scandal
“Congratulations,” The Duke of Devonhall looked down at his charge and gave her a thin smile as he leaned on the corner of his massive oak desk. His smile was the sort a man only gave when he tried to pretend he was delivering good news instead of bad. “I’ve made a match for you.”
Abigail Carrington sucked in her breath as she rose from the chair she’d been directed to sit in. She was aware he’d been standing over her, likely a form of intimidation, meant to make her feel small so that she’d have to concede to his wishes. Unlikely… “I beg your pardon?”
“A match,” Devonhall said, his brittle smile spreading even wider, looking as though it might split his face in half. “Isn’t that exciting news?”
Words clogged her throat and she cleared it, as she stared at her brother-in-law. Abigail lowered her hands to her hips. She’d been told she made a habit of the gesture by her three sisters. When she was angry, or irritated, or uncertain her hands landed just below her waist. Currently all three emotions warred for top position. “Exciting?” She drew in a deep breath, narrowing her gaze at her brother-in-law. “Executions are exciting too. That doesn’t mean I want to participate in one.”
The smile cracked then. Broken by his small but definite wince. “Abby.”
“Abigail,” she corrected holding up a single finger. Her father
