No matter what else the days might bring, tonight, he’d been with her.
As totally hers as she’d been his.
The gentle tangling of Alicia’s fingers in his hair drew Tony back to earth. To a world that was almost as wonderful as the one they’d visited; her body was a sensual cushion beneath him, her breasts beneath his chest, her hips and thighs cradling his, their bodies still intimately joined.
He was more comfortable than he’d ever thought to be, not just in body but on all other levels. Physically, mentally, emotionally, he was at peace, at home in her arms. Where he was meant to be.
His satisfaction was so profound it was frightening. It lay like a golden sea about him, deep, timeless, ageless, weighing on his limbs, soothing his mind, infinitely precious.
Eyes closed, he savored it, held it, let its waves lap about him—and tried not to think of ever losing it.
Eventually, he felt forced to stir, to draw back from that contented sea. Lifting from Alicia, he ignored her sleepy protest; she seemed as addicted to the moment as he. Settling beside her, he drew her to him, against him, brushing aside her long hair so he could see her face. He looked into her eyes, shadowed pools, mysterious in the night.
Marry me tomorrow.
The words burned his tongue; all the reasons he shouldn’t say them—not yet—doused them. Instead, bending his head, he touched his lips to hers, and spoke from his heart.
“Je t’aime.” He breathed the words across her lips; closing his eyes, he tasted them. “Je t’adore.”
He wasn’t even conscious of speaking in French; it had always been the language of love to him.
She touched his cheek, returned his kiss, soft, clinging.
Their lips parted; he drew breath, softly asked, “Is everything here as you wish? If there’s anything you need—”
She stopped him, laying her fingers across his lips. “There’s nothing—everything’s perfect.” She hesitated, then added, “I like your house.”
They were speaking in whispers, as if not to disturb the blanket of shared pleasure that still surrounded them. It was the deepest part of the night, the small hours of the morning, yet neither was sleepy. Sated, content, they lay in each other’s arms, limbs tangled, hands occasionally touching, brushing, stroking.
Time drifted, and with it the tide of their loving. It slowly turned. Returned. Alicia didn’t think, but simply flowed with it, knew he did the same.
Effortless. Their communication in that moment needed no words, no careful phrases. It was carried by their hands, their lips, mouths, tongues, every square inch of their bodies.
They moved over and around, worshipping, first one, then the other. Pleasure bloomed, ecstasy blossomed.
He opened her eyes to pleasures she hadn’t imagined, sensual delights beyond her ken. In turn, she set aside her inhibitions and let instinct and his guttural murmurs of appreciation guide her.
When at last they joined and again crested the final peak, and found the now-familiar splendor waiting, they were again together, senses open yet wholly merged, deliberately and completely one.
Later, when they lay spent, exhausted, in each other’s arms, Alicia heard his words echo in her mind. I love you. I adore you.
She wondered if he’d understood her reply.
Tony sank toward sleep, sated to his toes, his mind unfocused. Thoughts drifted, melted into the fogs as they closed in.
He’d told her he loved her, had said the words aloud. He’d surprised himself; he’d always imagined they would be so hard to say.
They’d slipped out, almost without conscious direction, a statement of fact with which he had no argument.
So easy. Now all that remained was to organize their wedding.
They were one step away from identifying A. C. One step away from being free to face their future, to give it their full and undivided attention.
If he had his way—and he was determined he would— the next time they indulged as they just had, they would be in his big bed at Torrington Chase, and Alicia would be his wife.
The following days passed in a frenzy of activity—social commitments on the one hand, covert investigation on the other.
To Alicia’s relief, the staff at Torrington House truly were, as Tony had told her, delighted to have three boys rampaging through the house. Once she realized how safe, secure, and cared for the boys now were, with so many benevolently watchful eyes on them, she relaxed her vigilance—one item she didn’t need to worry over.