Page 110 of The Danger of Desire

“Did you?” she said, surprised.

“Consider it my wedding gift to you, my love.”

A thickness filled her throat.My love.She’d never tire of hearing that.

Releasing her, he reached inside his coat pocket again. This time, he withdrew a whole sheaf of papers covered in pencil sketches.

When he handed them to her, she couldn’t at first figure out what they were. Clearly they were blueprints of some kind, but hastily drawn by someone who obviously had no architectural experience.

She looked at him quizzically.

“I did them in the carriage, so they’re rather crude. But they’re preliminary sketches for a renovation of your bedchamber.”

Eyeing them more closely, she read the scribbled notations. “This one says ‘Delia’s boudoir.’ Since when do I have a boudoir?”

“Since I decided to change your bedchamber into one. Assuming that you approve.”

“There’s no bed.” Her heart began to hammer in her chest. “Where am I to sleep?”

“With me,” he said earnestly. “But only if you want.”

Breaking into a smile, she threw her arms about his neck. “I want, I want!” She kissed his lips, then added in a whisper, “I want very much to sleep with you, my lord.”

He let out a relieved breath. “Then that’s what we’ll do.” He gazed down at her, eyes gleaming. “Although I think I should warn you: We won’t only be sleeping.”

“I should hope not,” she said saucily. “Or I shall be very disappointed.”

And as he took her into his arms and kissed her with all the love in his heart, she was not disappointed one bit.

Epilogue

Four months after their wedding, Warren woke to the sound of his wife snoring. He’d never heard her do that before; perhaps it was a result of their having been so vigorous in their lovemaking last night, after the private dinner she’d arranged in their bedchamber.

But the snoring didn’t bother him. It seemed so natural, so normal. He rather liked it. He still preferred some noise to utter quiet at night. It was much more restful.

Still, who would ever have guessed he would become so conventional, sleeping at night like a normal person, with a wife who snored? Spending his days living his life instead of sleeping? It was the most spectacular gift she’d given him.

He couldn’t resist kissing her awake.

She opened her eyes—those lovely starry eyes—with a soft smile. “Good morning, husband.”

“Good morning, wife.”

Eyeing him uncertainly, she propped herself up in bed. “You didn’t have a bad dream, did you?”

“It’s the middle of the morning, dearling. I don’t have dreams then. Besides, it’s been almost two weeks since I had a nightmare at all.”

It had been rocky at first—Delia had resorted to pinching him awake once or twice when it was really bad. But these days she always seemed to appear in his dreams, soothing him, comforting him. The cellar rarely tormented him anymore.

She rubbed her eyes. “What time is it?”

“I believe it’s around ten.”

“So why areyouawake? You tend to sleep later than that.”

He chuckled. “You were snoring.”

“Was I? How odd. I wonder if...”