“I have missed you,” she gasped, clinging to him.
“Of course you have. I’m your grand passion, remember?”
“How could I forget?” she whispered, dark eyes hazy with love.
He kissed her then, and by the time he’d finished she was no longer interested in running. That was good. He’d ridden hard to get home tonight, and he was eager to love his wife as she was meant to be loved.
“Francesca,” he said, and set little butterfly kisses on her hair, her cheeks, her eyelids. He felt the wild beat of her heart as he cupped his hand around her soft, full breast.
She squirmed, drawing him closer. To be lying in the grounds of Worthorne Manor with his wife was his perfect fantasy.
Well, almost.
Sebastian reached to divest her of her nightgown, tossing it aside and looking down on her creamy nakedness.
Now, it was perfect.