When Hugh had left her room that evening, just five minutes before Honoria had returned, Sarah had thought that she would fall into a lazy, luxurious sleep. She was not sure she understood what exactly he’d done to her body, but she’d found it quite impossible to lift even a finger for some time after he left. She felt so . . . sated.

But despite her utter physical contentment, she did not sleep. Perhaps it was due to all the napping she’d done earlier, perhaps it was a casualty of an overactive mind (she did have a lot to think about, after all), but by the time her mantel clock read one in the morning, she had to accept that she would not be sleeping that night.

This should have frustrated her—she was not one who did well when overtired—and she did not want to be cranky at breakfast. But instead, all she could think was that this extra period of wakefulness was a gift, or at least she ought to consider it as such.

And gifts should never be squandered.

Which was why, at one-oh-nine in the morning, she wrapped her fingers around the handle of the door to the north green bedroom, carefully applied pressure until she felt the mechanism click, and allowed the door to swing open on its thankfully silent hinges.

With very careful movements, she closed the door behind her, turned the key in the lock, and tiptoed toward the bed. A pale shaft of moonlight striped across the carpet, providing just enough light for her to make out Hugh’s sleeping form.

She smiled. It wasn’t a large bed, but it was large enough.

He was splayed more toward the right side of the mattress, so she padded around to the left, took a small breath of courage, and climbed in. Slowly, carefully, she inched toward him until she was close enough to feel the heat that rose off his body. She moved even closer, lightly placing her hand on his back, which she was delighted to discover was bare. . . .

He came awake with a start, making such a funny snorting sound that she couldn’t help but giggle.

“Sarah?”

She smiled flirtatiously, even though he probably couldn’t see her in the darkness. “Good evening.”

“What are you doing here?” he asked groggily.

“Are you complaining?”

There was a beat of silence. And then, in a husky timbre she recognized from earlier that evening: “No.”

“I missed you,” she whispered.

“Apparently.”

She poked his chest even though she’d heard the smile in his voice. “You’re supposed to say that you missed me, too.”

His arms came around her, and before she could say a word, he’d pulled her on top of him, his hands lightly cupping her bottom through her nightgown. “I missed you, too,” he said.

Softly, she kissed his lips. “I’m going to marry you,” she said with a goofy smile.