Page 127 of Corrupting his Duchess

“What?”

“I think I’m deliriously happy.”

He looked down at her. “I think I am too. It’s dreadful.”

She laughed again, full and free, and he caught the sound like it was the only music that mattered.

A beat passed. Her head tilted toward him, shoulder brushing his.

“Are you frightened?” she asked quietly.

He paused. “Only that I’ll never be the man you deserve. I’ll never deserve this.”

“You already are, yes, you deserve this and more.” she whispered.

He caught her chin gently, looked her full in the eyes.

His eyes burned. He reached for her hand and laced their fingers together, bare skin against bare skin, no gloves between them now.

She leaned her head against his shoulder.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this,” she murmured.

“Don’t,” he said. “Let’s never treat it like something ordinary.”

She looked up at him then, eyes glowing.

He rested his forehead against hers.

“And if I’m on my best behavior,” he whispered, “you’ll still be laughing at me when we’re old and wrinkled and terrifying to the servants.”

Her eyes crinkled. “Terrifying?”

“Wicked,” he amended. “Delightfully improper.”

She nodded solemnly. “Like leaving our own wedding reception before the pudding?”

He grinned. “Exactly like that.”

The carriage jolted gently forward. London passed by their windows, but neither of them looked.

They were too busy laughing.

Too in love to look away.

And as the bells faded behind them and the world opened before them, Henry pressed a kiss to her cheek and murmured, “Let this be the beginning of everything.”

“I love you,” she said.

His breath caught. Then he brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles, slow and certain.

“And I am yours,” he whispered. “Utterly. In every possible way.”

And together, they rode toward the future, his hand in hers, and the world at last unfolding.

The End?