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“During the treasure hunt,” he admitted, his voice low. “When Colin’s meddling grandmother paired us up.”

Scarlett laughed. “Are you trying to flatter me?”

“For you, I would endeavor to learn all the words in all the languages so I could tell you over and over how beautiful you are,” he said huskily. “But from the moment I saw you, I had felt a desire that I never felt before. It was unsettling.”

“It must have been embarrassing for a rogue of your caliber.” She chuckled.

“I have not been as much of a rogue since that night,” he admitted with a hoarse laugh. “You have ensnared me, little cat, body and soul—whatever is left of it.”

Scarlett looked at the proud man before her. He had spent so long chained to the ghosts of his past, but he was no less magnificent to her.

Perhaps this is what true love was—it stripped a person to his barest, most unfiltered state, and even then he would still be the most beautiful thing she had ever encountered. He could bear the scars of his past on his skin, on his soul, and he would be as unblemished as the day he was born.

“You are mine,” she murmured, playing with the buttons of his shirt. Her eyes rose to his. “And I will have all of you or nothing at all.”

“It is yours, sweet wife.”

She smiled up at him. “Then help me with your clothes. It is unfair that I am so bare and you are still fully clothed. I will have your skin on mine tonight, husband.”

Her words seemed to seize him, for he groaned and all but tore off his shirt. He made short work of his breeches, tossing them aside as he crawled over her.

“What else would you have of me?” he asked, his voice rough.

She reached up to caress the side of his face. “We shall have each other,” she choked out, tears stinging her eyes, emotion clogging her throat. “No more secrets, no more lies. A marriage in truth. In love.”

“I will give you all of me, my love,” he swore. “No more secrets between us—it is time we laid them all to rest.”

She smiled as she pressed her lips to his. She had meant it to be a sweet kiss, one that she hoped would convey the depth of all that she felt for him.

She should have known that there was never anything so simple with Hudson. His mouth claimed hers and gave her all of him in return.

His hand settled on the curls at her mound, and the ache between her legs became an insistent throbbing that clamored for his touch.

“Open for me, wife,” he urged. “Let me show you how wonderful it can be between us.”

Scarlett smiled mischievously. “Oh, I know all too well how wonderful it can be.”

The smirk that crossed his handsome features, illuminated by the fire from the hearth, made her heart stutter in her chest. She had never thought men beautiful, but Hudson was a work of art that left her breathless over and over and over.

She reached out to touch him, watching in wonder as his muscles flexed at her touch. She flattened her hand against his chest, her finger ghosting over a nipple. He hissed, and she looked up in concern.

“Did I hurt you?” she asked.

He shook his head with a pained smile. “On the contrary, wife, you please me too damn much.”

He pressed her into the mattress, his lips covering hers as his hand slipped between her legs. Scarlett gasped into the kiss, arching into his hand as pleasure, liquid and white-hot, burned through her.

“Damn, you are already so wet and ready for me,” he groaned against the side of her jaw.

Her eyes fluttered shut as he trailed kisses from her lips down her body. His lips closed around a nipple, and she arched into him, her fingers sinking into his hair as she held him close to her breast.

Scarlett had become a writhing mess on the bed. She canted her hips to meet his questing fingers.

“Hudson,” she moaned. “Oh, Hudson…”

“Easy, little cat,” he murmured, his lips trailing to her other breast. “Just open your legs for me.”

She nodded with a delighted gasp as he rewarded her by inserting a finger into her tight channel. She had become liquid fire in his hands, nothing more than a mindless creature, his to mold as he saw fit.