His smile was one of confidence, and yet there was a boyishness to it, an almost embarrassment. “Every single one.” Lowering himself, he kissed the tip of her nose and lifted himself back up. “So I know you didn’t marry me for my fortune. And you didn’t fall in love with me because of my title.”

“If I list all the reasons I fell in love with you, Matthew Sommersby”—she tilted up her hips—“we may never get to the fun part.”

“I love you.”

She would never tire of hearing those three words, nor of giving them back. “I love you.”

As he claimed her mouth, the teasing vanished, replaced by an urgency as sensations began to sweep through her. As he pushed into her, filled her, she wrapped her legs around his hips and held on as he rode her with a ferocity that matched her own desires. The world faded away until it was only them, the two of them, locked in a passionate embrace, hurtling toward the storm that would erupt in ecstasy.

And when it came, they were flung through the tempest together, both crying out with the strength of their release.

When she came back into herself, sated and replete, she whispered, “I love you.”

The words came back to her in a deep and lethargic voice.

Smiling, she let sleep take her.

The following morning, as the carriage carried them away from the residence, Fancy nestled up against Matthew’s side. It was her favorite place to be.

Their trunks had been carted to the docks earlier for loading onto the ship, and soon they’d be in Calais for their wedding trip.

“Content, Fancy?”

“Very. I think you may have gotten me with child.”

He laughed. “Sometimes it can take a while.”

“I want to give you your heir.”

“I would be happy with a girl, especially if she favored her mother in looks and temperament.”

“I suppose we could have one of each.”

“Eventually, I suspect we’ll have several of each.” Tucking his finger beneath her chin, he tilted up her face and brushed a kiss over her lips. “I can’t resist you.”

“I hope that holds until we are old.”

“I don’t see why it won’t.”

Straightening, she glanced out the window at the unfamiliar scenery, the absence of buildings. “Matthew, I thought we were heading to the docks.”

“No, our vessel is waiting for us elsewhere.”

“Where?”

“At England’s edge, near Dover.”

“I’d not expected that.”

“It’s the best place for us to depart.”

“I’ll take your word for that as I’m so untraveled.”

Leaning in, he nipped her ear. “Trust me, you’re going to love it.”

She had no doubt of that because he would be with her.