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She could feel herself clench around him, her muscles begging for more. She didn’t know what to do, didn’t know anything except that she wanted him. She wanted him, and something only he could give her.

He shifted position, and his fingers moved away. His body lifted off hers, and when Grace looked up at him, he seemed to be straining against some irresistible force. He was holding himself above her, supporting himself on his forearms. Her tongue moved, preparing to say his name, but just then she felt him at her entrance, pressing gently forward.

Their eyes met.

“Shhh,” he murmured. “Just wait…I promise…”

“I’m not scared,” she whispered.

His mouth moved into a lopsided smile. “I am.”

She wanted to ask what he meant and why he was smiling, but he began to move forward, opening her, stretching her, and it was the strangest, most amazing thing, but he was inside of her. That one person could enter another seemed the most spectacular thing. They were joined. She could not think of any other way to describe it.

“Am I hurting you?” he whispered.

She shook her head. “I like it,” she whispered back.

He groaned at that, and thrust forward, the sudden motion sending a wave of sensation and pressure through her. She gasped his name and grabbed his shoulders, and then she found herself in an ancient rhythm, moving with him, as one. Moving, and pulsing, and straining, and then—

She shattered. She arched, she moaned, she nearly screamed. And when she finally came down and found the strength to breathe, she could not imagine how she could possibly still be alive. Surely a body could not feel that way and live to repeat it.

Then, abruptly, he pulled out of her and turned away, grunting and groaning his own satisfaction. She touched his shoulder, feeling the spasms of his body. And when he cried out, she did not just hear it. She felt it, through his skin, through her body.

To her heart.

For a few moments he did not move, just lay there, his breathing slowly returning to normal. But then he rolled back over and gathered her into his arms. He whispered her name and kissed the top of her head.

And then he did it again.

And again.

And when she finally fell asleep, that was what she heard in her dreams. Jack’s voice. Soft, whispering her name.

Jack knew the exact moment she fell asleep. He was not sure what it was—her breathing had already softened to a slow, even sigh, and her body had long since stilled.

But when she fell asleep, he knew.

He kissed her one last time, on her temple. And as he looked down at her peaceful face, he whispered, “I will marry you, Grace Eversleigh.”

It did not matter who he was. He would not let her go.

Chapter Nineteen

The drive to Butlersbridge was everything Jack remembered. The trees, the birds, the precise shade of green as the wind ruffled the grass…These were the sights and sounds of his childhood. Nothing had changed. It ought to have been comforting.

It wasn’t.

When he opened his eyes that morning, Grace had already slipped from the bed and made her way back to her own room. He was disappointed, of course; he’d been awakened by his own love and desire for her, and wanted nothing more than to gather her back into his arms.

But he had understood. Life was not as free for a woman as for a man, even a woman of independent means. Grace had her reputation to consider. Thomas and Amelia would never say a word against her, but Jack did not know Lord Crowland well enough to guess what he might do if Grace were caught in his bed. And as for the dowager…

Well, it went without saying that she’d happily destroy Grace now, if given the chance.

The traveling party—minus the dowager, to everyone’s relief—met up in the inn’s dining room for breakfast. Jack knew he’d been unable to keep his heart from his eyes when he saw Grace enter the room. Would it always be this way, he wondered. Would he see her and feel this indescribable, overwhelming rush of feeling?

It wasn’t even desire. It was far more than that.

It was love.