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Cassian dropped down on one knee, never letting go of Daphne’s hand. “You must decide whether you wish to be my wife. What do you think? Will you, love?”

“Yes—”

Cassian got to his feet and took her lips in a kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck, letting him take her weight as she arched into him.

The rightness of it, of holding her, of loving her, of devoting himself to her for the rest of his days filled him with such happiness that he trembled.

“Are you cold?” she whispered against his mouth.

He wasn’t. If anything, he was overheated, burning from the inside out with how much he loved and wanted her.

“We should go inside,” she said.

Cassian nodded, kissed her again, and it was all he could do not to sweep her up into his arms and carry her straight to his bedchamber. Because now that she’d promised to be his wife, and he had the prospect of a life with her ahead of him, he didn’t want to wait a single minute.

Daphne tried for patience as Mrs. Hanson, Hillcrest’s housekeeper, gently cleansed and then applied a sticking plaster to her injured hand.

The cut truly was slight, and she didn’t wish for anyone to make a fuss.

But Mr. Bartlett had insisted as soon as he saw her enter the manor with Cassian and noted her bandage.

“There you go, miss. Right as rain.” The silver-haired housekeeper glanced at Daphne’s bedchamber window where the summer rain had slowed to a slight drizzle. The sun had even begun to peek out from behind the clouds. “And hopefully the rain is off for good if you wish to venture out again.”

“I might,” Daphne told her with a smile. “Thank you, Mrs. Hanson.”

“You are most welcome, Miss Bridewell.” She collected her kit of mending materials, stood, and left the bedchamber.

Daphne sat in the chair before the unlit fireplace and wondered how long she should wait before making her way to Cassian’s bedchamber. It was scandalous, of course. It was midday. Lily and her sisters would no doubt be wondering where she’d gone, and yet all she could think about was going to him.

She pressed a hand to her heart because it felt so full, as if it could barely contain the love and excitement she felt.

He was going to be her husband. Part of her wanted to suggest they start for Scotland today, with a very purposeful stop in Gretna Green. She’d always dreamed of a proper wedding, with her family celebrating the day with her, but it didn’t seem as important now.

Standing, she nibbled her lip, listening for any sound out in the hallway. Then she made her way to the chamber’s door.

She jumped when someone rapped from the other side.

Then she beamed when Cassian pushed the door open and stepped inside.

He’d shaved and donned dry clothes, though his hair was still tousled and damp slightly damp. She couldn’t resist reaching up and running her fingers through it when he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close.

“Why does even half an hour away from you feel so long now?” he asked as he bent to nuzzle her cheek.

“I don’t know.” She turned to whisper in his ear. “But I feel it too.”

Daphne couldn’t resist reaching up and unbuttoning the top button of his shirt, just to dip her fingers inside and feel his warm skin. Then she freed the next and the next.

“Temptress,” he said with a mischievous smile.

“You did call me bold.”

“You are, my love.” He bent to kiss her. The kiss began gently, almost hesitantly, as if he was holding back. But the way he gripped her hip and pulled her an inch closer told her he was as eager as she was.

She deepened the kiss, wrapping a hand around his nape. Cassian responded with equal need. Kissing her as if he couldn’t get enough, then reaching down to pull her skirt up and run his fingers along her bare thigh, just above her stocking.

“I don’t want to wait,” she told him between kisses. Then she pulled back and turned in his arms, looking back at him over her shoulder. “Help me with these?”

Cassian licked his lips, studied the line of buttons down the back of her bodice, then looked into her eyes again, as if to make sure she had no doubts.

“I want this,” she told him. “I want you.”

He made quick work of the buttons and helped her slip from the fabric. Then he kissed her nape, nipping and then soothing the spot with his tongue as he unhooked the fastening of her skirt. He let out a pleased, throaty sound as it slid over her hips and down to the carpet.

Daphne reached back to the fastening of her petticoat and worked it down her legs. Then she turned to him again.

He watched her as if awestruck as Daphne worked the hooks of her corset free, then let it fall from her waist.

“Just two ribbons left,” she told him, her voice wobbly.

Cassian reached for the first at the neck of her chemise, then Daphne pulled the ruched fabric wide until the soft cotton slid down her shoulders.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured.

Reverently, he traced his fingers across the curve of her shoulders, down her chest, across the top of her breasts, and then he caressed one nipple with his thumb. When it was pebbled and aching, he bent to take it into the heat of his mouth.

Daphne’s knees felt boneless and she held onto him as he licked and sucked and grazed his teeth against her tender flesh.

When he bent to treat her other nipple to the same maddening devotion, she felt a pulsing need build in her core.

She squeezed her thighs together to stem the ache he stoked in her.

Then he tugged at the ribbon of her drawers and slid his hands inside to push them down over her hips, his fingers brushing across her curls.

Daphne gripped his shirt for balance as she stepped out of the last of her garments.

Standing in nothing more than her stockings and boots, she felt intensely bare, yet thoroughly bold because Cassian’s adoring gaze made her feel beautiful.

“Now you, Captain.” Even as she said the words, she worked the rest of his shirt buttons.

When she could finally slip it from his shoulders, she hummed with pleasure at the sight of him.

The bulge of muscles, the dusting of hair that tapered down to his waist. Then she saw his scar and gently traced her fingers over the whitened ridge.

Bending, she kissed his skin and heard his half gasp, half groan.

She couldn’t resist kissing and tasting his skin in that tempting hollow below his throat as she worked the fly of his trousers.

Cassian toed off his boots, then pushed his trousers to the floor. Then he wrapped one arm around her and bent to scoop her up with the other.

The heat of him felt so good, Daphne let out a little wanton moan. She never felt as safe as she did in that moment in his arms, bare skin to bare skin.

Cassian grinned wolfishly and settled her on top of the bed.

Then he worked the laces of one of her boots, and the other, helping her remove them. As he did, his gaze kept straying to her body—to her taut nipples aching for his mouth, to the apex of her thighs where he’d worked such wicked magic with his tongue.

When he climbed on the bed, Daphne reached for him, needing to feel his body against hers, but he held back, kneeling before her as he reached for one stocking.

He kissed the top of her thigh before tracing the path of the stocking down her leg with his fingertips.

When he had both stockings off, he moved closer, one bent knee between her legs, opening her to his gaze as he stroked his fingers across her inner thighs, then up to her center.

“So gorgeous, my love.” He bent his head as he spread her with his fingers and lapped at her, licking with long languorous strokes, then slipping his fingers inside to caress that spot where all of her aching need for him seemed to have gathered.

For one moment, he lifted his head, his gaze intense and adoring. Then he lapped at her again, hands curled around her thighs, holding her as if she was a treasure to savor.

“Cassian.” Daphne stroked her fingers through his hair, bucking against his mouth as pleasure rippled through her. Then she clutched at his shoulders, pulling him up, needing to feel more of him.

And he seemed to understand because he positioned himself above her and the perfection of it made her shiver. This is what she wanted—their bodies together, as close to him as she could get. Nothing between them but this all-consuming passion—no fears, no doubts.

Then she felt the hard stroke of him against her, slipping through her wet heat, testing, tempting. His gaze locked on hers, and she saw such love there, it made her breath catch in her throat.

“I want forever with you, Daphne,” he rasped.

“Yes,” she said, then arched up to kiss him.

As he slipped his tongue between her lips, he slid inside her. She was so aroused, so wet from his mouth and her release that he filled her easily. At first, the fullness felt strange, but only for a moment because as soon as he pulled back, she wanted more.

When she made a little mewling sound of need, Cassian stilled.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered with a smile, reaching up to stroke the hair from his forehead. “I trust you.”

“I’ll never stop loving you.” He smiled too, no doubt remembering the first time she’d said the words to him in Hillcrest’s hedge maze.

Then he filled her again, deeper, and she gasped at how right it felt. As he built a rhythm, she bent her knees, then reached down to grip his hip, as if she could pull him closer. Needing him closer. He captured her lips and kissed her fiercely, one hand tangled in her hair.

With every stroke, every kiss, he made her his. Whenever he looked at her, even as he seemed to struggle for control, she saw love in his eyes. Felt it in the way he touched her, kissed her, filled her.

The pull began anew, her body reaching for a pinnacle that made heart race and drew her muscles taut. Cassian lifted his head and watched her as he reached between their bodies, his fingers going unerringly to that sensitive flesh that pushed her higher and then tipped her over the edge.

She cried out his name, scraped her fingernails across his back, and then his mouth was on hers again as he found his own release.

He nuzzled her neck, kissed her heated skin, whispered, “My love” like a promise. Like a vow.

Then as he shifted to move away from her, Daphne immediately wanted the weight and warmth of him back, but he made no move to get out of bed or dress.

He settled next to her, then pulled her into his arms. They lay entangled, sated, wrapped in each other’s arms as their breathing slowed. Cassian reached down for a blanket to pull it up over her, but she didn’t need it. His body warmed her like a furnace, and she’d never felt more content.

“My sister will come looking for me eventually,” she said as she lay with her cheek against his chest, savoring the strong, steady beat of his heart.

“They went into the village with Edgerton to the local summer fair.”

Daphne grinned. “Did they indeed?” She stroked her fingers through the curly dark hair on his chest. “Then we have time for…” Lifting her head, she arched one brow at him. “More?”

He chuckled so low, it sounded smoky and utterly enticing. “My insatiable wife-to-be.”

Daphne inched up until they were face to face, then reached out to trace his lips with her fingertip. “Perhaps now is a good time to mention that I want a houseful of children.”

For a moment, his eyes grew serious.

“We’ll make sure they’re loved,” she whispered, fearing he was recalling his own childhood. She understood a bit of the horror of what his father had done to him and his brother, and she knew it had left him wounded inside, doubting himself.

But she knew how powerful a loving family could be, and she trusted they could build one together.

He reached down, stroking a hand down her back, then rolled their bodies until he arched over her again. “A whole houseful?”

“Can you bear it?”

He smiled. “I think I could, love.”