Page 20 of Rogue of My Heart

He reached around her and opened the door.

She peeked inside, then leaned back into him with a low sigh. “Oh…Kit.”

“Go on.” He gave her another nudge, pushing her into the room.

She looked around, turned a full circle in wonder. The space was perfect.

It was her. And him.

Sunlight a bold wash over furnishings in shades of blue and green, her favorite colors. A magnificent globe showing the constellations, because she and Kit liked to gaze at the sky during their walks through their lush Mayfair garden. A set of stately library chairs situated before a blazing hearth. A brocade chaise in the corner, fresh flowers in a vase on the table beside it. Kit knew she liked to read and nap, and that she loved the sweet scent of wildflowers. Floor-to-ceiling shelves housing more volumes than she could read in a lifetime seized her imagination as she walked into the room. Crossing to the mahogany bookcases, she ran her finger down a stiff leather spine and drew in the refreshing scent of new books. “You’re spoiling me. New clothes and my very own phaeton. A personal account, a staff at my disposal. I’m completely ruined for life.”

He closed the door to the library—her library—and leaned against it. “You’re right, I am. And, damn, I’m enjoying it.”

She turned to face him, propped her hip against the bookshelf, and willed her heart to quiet its mad romp. She searched her mind for what to say, how to thank him, how to tell him. But only tears came, in great, heaving gulps.

He reached her in seconds and pulled her into his arms. “Raine, don’t. This is meant to be the happiest of places. Almost from the first moment at the duke’s home, I’ve dreamed about creating this spot for you. Don’t cry. Please, you’ll have me on my knees in moments.”

She melted into him, his heart thumping beneath her cheek. “I love it. I love you. But you don’t have to…do so much.” She sniffled, unused to emotional displays when she’d been profoundly expressive since the day of their wedding at Hartland Abbey five weeks earlier. “Give so much.”

He tipped her chin high, his smile contrite. “This next bit may not help your tears subside.”

“What?” she breathed. “There’s more?”

He reached in his trouser pocket, retrieved a small wrapped parcel with a hand that shook. “I’d like to say this is nothing, but it’s everything. More than the sapphire on your finger, more than this library and the phaeton put together.” Tapping the package to his chest, he whispered, “This is my heart.”

She unwrapped the parchment, knowing before she looked inside what he’d given her. The watch was delicately crafted, smaller, and more elegant than his usual pieces; the silver case etched with roses interwoven with her initials. The chain was one she recognized. “I thought I’d lost this,” she murmured and brought the timepiece to her chest.

“Too fine to be a bookmark, I agree.”

“There was never anything wrong with the filigree, was there?”

He shook his head. “No. But like my heart, I knew it was yours. There’s an inscription on the inside.”

Snapping the case open, she saw the words and felt her heart drop: at first sight. “Kit…” Her eyes stung, and she blinked rapidly. “I will treasure this forever.”

He pressed a tender kiss to her brow, her temple, her cheek. “Darling, I’m a watchmaker. This can’t be that much of a surprise.”

“But you’ve never,” she sniffled again and tucked herself into him, “the wenches.”

His chest rumbled with his laughter. “Never have I given a wench a watch. You are the first. The only.”

“That’s good,” she said into his now-damp linen shirt. “Because when the ton sees this, every woman in London will demand one. Prinny will have you make one for Maria Fitzherbert, you can certainly bet.”

“I’ll avoid that if I can.” Taking her shoulders, he moved her back a step and reached into his trouser pocket.

“Oh, no more, Kit.” She backed away, shaking her head until her hair fell like a shroud around her face. “My heart can’t take it.”

He grinned, a wicked, knowing turn of his lips. “This gift, the third and final for today, is perhaps more for me.” Crossing to the door, he fit a key into the lock and turned the tumblers with a snap. “The sturdiest bolt in England, or so I’m told. Enough to keep out even the most inquisitive of valets.”

“Penny doesn’t have a copy?”

Christian pocketed the key and leaned against the door with a licentious smirk. “No, and he’ll never get one. This room is ours.”

She tilted her head toward the chaise lounge. “That looks sturdy.”

“Hmm, very. I selected it myself.”

Giving her watch a swift glance, she crooked her finger, beckoning. “Do you have time to assist me with a project?” She flipped a button on her bodice. “A particularly knotty one, requiring a most refined touch.”

Everything he felt for her swept his face, filled his eyes—matching every wondrous thing filling hers. Pushing off the door, he moved to her. “Darling, I thought you’d never ask.”

The lock held.

And the love lasted.