Page 97 of The Rules of Matrimony
Cassandra grimaced. “If it’s a last resort.”
The visiting took up again, and Amie passed the baby to Jemma.
Ian leaned in and whispered, “Are you ready to return to the house?”
Amie’s brow pulled in the middle. “You don’t want to stay and talk longer with your friends?”
He grinned and curled an arm around her waist. “I’m ready to be alone with my wife again.”
She leaned into him, molding to his side as if they were made to fit each other. “They will expect you to visit longer. I doubt you will be able to sneak past eight other people in such small quarters.”
If he stared into those mesmerizing pools of brown much longer, he was certain those same eight people would throw him out and no sneaking would be necessary. “With all this talk of missions, I was reminded that my primary responsibility belongs to caring for you. I am not one to procrastinate my duty.”
“Your duty?” She raised a critical brow.
“My honor,” he quickly corrected, her smile instantly reappearing. That smile was everything to him. He couldn’t resist and leaned down, capturing her soft mouth with his own. Marriage didn’t have to be a man fighting against his desire to love and be loved in return. When done right, it was beautiful. In the month and a half that they had truly spent as man and wife, he had doubted his abilities in a lot of areas—including the way he bumbled his words. He wasn’t perfect, and that much was painfully obvious, but he trusted himself with Amie in a way he had never thought possible. The protective instinct that he felt toward her in the beginning of their relationship was the same instinct that assured him of his unwavering loyalty to her. He would never give her reason to doubt him.
He loved this woman in his arms. She completed him. And because of her, he hoped to become a better man. Because progression would always start with him. Any sacrifice or effort was worth it to deserve her.
Epilogue
Three Weeks Later
Amie set down her billiard’scue stick. “You must never let Mama know that you taught me such avulgarsport.” She winked at him to show she was teasing. They’d been in Brookeside at Bellmont Manor for several weeks, and Ian had tried to teach her to swim in his pond, had given her archery lessons, and now this.
“As long you never tell my mother either,” Ian said, wrapping his arms around her from behind.
Amie nestled back against him. “Have you received a response from Sir Robert Peel yet?”
He shook his head, his chin tickling her neck. “I expect one any day.”
“You will need a secretary, you know.”
“Undoubtedly.”
“I happen to know someone I can recommend.”
“Oh? My wife thinks she can stand working with me again? Does this mean I get a kiss after every letter you scribe?”
“Heavens no.Youwill kissme. I don’t work for free.”
He turned her in his arms. “Can I pay in advance?”
A thrill stole through her, as it always did in anticipation of Ian’s kisses. “You most certainly can.” They spent nearly all their time together, never tiring of the other’s company. Even while with company, they rarely left each other’s side. Which was quite the feat considering they had met every tenant family and many in town, thanks to Miles’s constant effort to deliver charity baskets to the poor in his parish and Amie’s own desire to care for their neighbors.
For so long, she had been passed from house to house, never feeling wanted, never belonging. Those feelings were so distant now, she had nearly forgotten them. Ian hadn’t been the only one to accept her, but all the Rebels and their spouses seemed eager to adopt her into their intimate society too.
Ian pressed his lips to hers, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. She relished the feel of his strong arms around her waist and back and grinned on the other side of his kiss. No sooner had this happened than they heard a commotion on the other side of the wall.
Amie quickly pulled back, anxious that someone would catch them in their passionate embrace.
Ian put a finger to her lips but did not fully release her.
Her brow furrowed, but she said nothing.
Voices sounded. Women’s voices.
He motioned with his head toward the wall that separated them from the music room. Reluctantly, she followed his noiseless steps to the wall, where the voices became far clearer.
