Page 63 of Rakes & Reticules
True to his word, Fletcher had managed to free Da and Maura from Newgate. He’d offered Da a position too. Da was now the head of security atIvories and Aces.He, Maura, and the children occupied a suite atDe la Chancefor now.
Thin, but their faces beaming with pride, Da and Maura stood to the side, slightly overwhelmed at the grandeur and the presence of so many nobles. Cormac O’Doherty, the villain who’d had them arrested in London, had also framed Da in Ireland for murder after losing a dice game, which is why the family had fled.
A servant approached with a tray of champagne.
Fletcher selected two flutes.
Clearing his throat, he raised his glass. “I wish to propose a toast.”
Around the room, their family and friends also accepted champagne from the servants and faced him expectantly.
“To my wife. The most exceptional and courageous woman I have ever met. I am humbled she’d take a reformed rake like myself as her husband. To Siobhan. To happy ever after.”
“Here, here.”
“To Siobhan.”
“To happy ever after.”
Taking a sip, Siobhan blinked rapidly to dispel the tears pooling in her eyes. She didn’t miss the intimate looks between Fletcher’s parents or his married siblings and their spouses. The Westbrooks weren’t the least bashful about expressing their love.
Siobhan rather liked that.
“’Tis I who is blessed.” She met his amorous gaze and blushed. “You shouldn’t stare at me like that.”
“Like what?” If anything, Fletcher’s smile became impossibly more smoldering.
Little tremors of excitement skittered up her spine and sent butterflies fluttering in her belly. “As if you’d like to gobble me like a piece of barmbrack.”
Winking, he bent near her ear. “I have no idea what barmbrack is, but I definitely want to gobble you up.”
Then the daring devil nipped her earlobe, causing all her bones to turn to pudding.
Good Lord, on Sunday.
Siobhan clutched his arm to stay upright.
“What say you, Mrs. Westbrook, if we leave the celebration early?”
Fletcher waggled his eyebrows.
She brushed a kiss across his firm mouth, gratified to see sparks ignite in his green eyes. Two could play at this game of seduction.
“I’d say, what are you waiting for, Mr. Westbrook?”
Hand in hand, Siobhan and Fletcher ran from the parlor, the laughter and hoots from their families following them down the corridor. At the foot of the stairs, Fletcher swept her into his arms.
“I love you, Fletcher.” She cupped his cheek, and he pressed his face into her palm as he effortlessly carried her up the stairway.
“Not nearly as much as I love you, my darling Irish lass, and I intend to spend a lifetime proving it.”
Looping her arms around his neck, Siobhan nipped his earlobe, curving her mouth into a gratified smile when he groaned.
“Minx.”
“I learned that from you, husband.”
They’d reached her chamber, and still holding her in his arms, he opened the door. “I cannot wait to teach you much more.”
“Neither can I.”
THE END
