“It’s customary for a husband to give his wife jewelry on the day they marry,” he said as he ambled over to a vanity, picked up a long, slender black velvet box, and extended it toward her. Inside had to be a necklace, but one so large that it would dwarf her. Still she would wear it every day for the remainder of her life.

“I don’t want us doing things because it’s customary. I want us doing things because we want to do them.”

“I want to give you this.”

She opened the hinged lid and stared at the scrolled vellum. As she lifted it out, he took the box from her. She unrolled her gift and read the words, surprised, pleased . . . overjoyed. If it meant what she thought it meant. “It’s a deed to a property. The address is—” She looked up at him, her brow furrowed. “It’s the bookshop.”

“Your brother is a hard bargainer.”

“You purchased it?”

“I did. In your name.” He shook his head. “The law will say it’s mine, but it’s yours. I have Lassiter working to find a way to circumvent the law so no matter what happens, the property is seen as belonging to you. Do with it as you will.”

Tears burned her eyes. “You know me so well. There is no gift I would have treasured more. I won’t spend all my time there.”

“I shall hope not. You’ll need to host dinners and such in order to convince people to donate to your efforts to teach adults to read.”

Smiling brightly, she pressed the scroll to her chest. “I own my own bookshop. Even my eldest brother wouldn’t give me that.” She flung her arms around his neck. “Oh, Matthew, thank you.” She kissed the underside of his jaw. “Thank you.” She kissed his chin. “Thank you.”

Then their mouths met, and the vellum fluttered to the floor, as passion rose up, hot, bold, and wild.

“Matthew?”

“Yes, my love?”

“I don’t want to wait to have children.”

Straightening, he cupped her face between his hands and smiled warmly. “I shall endeavor to accommodate your wishes.”

He kissed one side of her mouth and then the other before settling his lips against hers. When she parted them for him, he slowly, tenderly, mated their tongues, an ancient ritual of dancing and sparring. No rush. No hurry. As though they had all night. As though they had the rest of their lives.