“I leave that up to you,” she said, lying back on the blankets. “I have always loved the scent of plum blossoms, and now I will have precious memories to go with their fragrance. Thank you for that. I knew I could find a man willing to overlook my origins—I am the sister of a duke and my settlements are generous—but I never thought I could find a man who could accept…” Her smile faded as she reached for him.

“Not merely accept,” Robert said, coming down over her. “God spare us from the paltry consolation of mere acceptance. I love you, Constance Wentworth, madly, forever. Love you especially for who you were, and love you with equal devotion for who you always will be. You love with your whole heart, and with you I am helpless to do anything save follow your example.”

Constance loved Robert with her whole body too, wrapped her arms and legs around him, explored his every muscle and sinew. Her touch awakened him from a long, lonely sleep into a blazing rapture, and when he joined his body to hers, the pleasure nearly overcame him.

But not quite. He clung to the last shred of his self-restraint long enough to bring her with him into that place of transcendent joy. She matched him passion for passion, then demanded more, until he was wrung out, a man done in by glorious satisfaction.

“You are a wonderment.” He whispered that, probably incoherently, as he slipped from her body.

Some bright soul who was not the Duke of Rothhaven had thought to put her handkerchief on top of the wicker basket. Passing that handkerchief to Constance taxed the limit of Robert’s strength. He rolled to his back and Constance snuggled against his side, her contented sigh breezing across his shoulder.

She kissed his biceps. “We might have a large family.”

“Yes, love.” The notion of having children terrified Robert, for childbed was a dangerous place, but Constance was not afraid. She apparently wasn’t afraid that their children would have the falling sickness either, and for that Robert would have loved her even more, except he already loved her to the limit of his soul.

He opened his eyes to see a mosaic of pink blossoms against a perfectly blue, sunny sky, and all the beauty and peace that sky could hold flowed into him. She had done this, given him back the sun, the sky, and his own heart.

Whatever Constance needed of him, whatever he could do for her in return, he would do, and do joyously. He drifted off into the sweetest, most contented rest he’d ever known, while Constance slept at his side.

“How is Rothhaven’s steed coming along?” Quinn asked, swinging into the saddle. From long habit, he made a production out of straightening the horse’s mane, adjusting the reins, and otherwise averting his gaze while Stephen clambered onto a solid gray gelding.