Free Hero, Come Back by Stephanie Laurens

accordingly.”
    He set the door wide, and she entered. Without a second thought. Without any of the missish hesitation or nervousness she’d expected would assail her. It was as if they were already married in fact, as if the ceremony were merely incidental, a superficial recognition of a union that had already in truth begun.
    The room was as cozy as the innkeeper had promised. Dimity curtains covered the windows; matching hangings were gathered at the corners of a large four-poster bed. The covers were turned down; the pillows plumped high. The fire leaping in the grate threw warmth into the room; the flames sent flickering fingers of light dancing over the scene.
    Anne stopped in the center of the room. She heard the door shut. An instant later, she sensed Reggie behind her, then his hands slid around her waist and he drew her back against him.
    In the hearth before them, flames licked the dark logs and sent sparks rising up the chimney.
    The fire warmed the front of her; he warmed her back. He bent his head, she tilted hers as he touched his lips to her throat.
    Raising her hand, she stroked his hair, soft, warm.
    “Before, in Lady Hendrick’s parlor, why did you stop?”
    The caress of his lips halted, but he didn’t lift his head; she felt his breath on her skin when he answered, “Because I didn’t know if you’d made a decision—or if you’d been swept away by the moment.” His voice was low, deep. “It’s not as if we’d had any courtship—you hadn’t had time to consider, either the act or its consequences.”
    His lips returned to her skin, their touch sweet, drugging; he didn’t say more, spell out what he meant, but she knew, understood. Marriage wasn’t a state he had any interest in trapping her in, no matter how much he wanted her. It had to be her decision, taken in full command of her wits.
    A decision they were both aware was in the past.
    She turned in his arms, lifted her own, and draped them about his neck. His lids rose, heavy over rather sultry eyes. How much he wanted her was there in the blue, there for her to see.
    She felt a slow smile lift her lips, light her face. “We’ve known each other for such a long time.”
    “We’ve been would-be lovers for only three days.”
    “Time doesn’t matter, not once one understands—sees.” She held his gaze. “Once one recognizes the truth.”
    His arms slid around her, closed; he drew her to him. “I love you.”
    His gaze didn’t waver; she smiled, assured. “And I love you. That’s all that matters, isn’t it?”
    He searched her eyes, then bent his head and touched his lips to hers.
    She kissed him back, offered her mouth, shuddered with anticipation when he took. His hands spread over her back, pressing her breasts to his chest, then slid lower, molding her to him, searching, learning, possessing.
    The tangle of their tongues trapped her attention—the slow, hypnotic quality of the kiss; the steady build of heat between them captured her awareness, ultimately to the exclusion of all else. She didn’t realize his fingers had been busy until he raised his hands and eased her gown from her shoulders. In a giddy daze, she drew her hands from the sleeves, let him peel the bodice down and away, let him loosen her skirts and let them fall.
    Only when her petticoats followed and she stepped free of the frothing folds did she feel the touch of air cool on her legs, and realize—and shiver. He paused, hesitated, but she’d made her decision. Drawing in a breath, she boldly stepped back into his arms and lifted her lips to his.
    He took them willingly; she felt the breath he’d held ease from him. Then he wrapped his arms about her, lifted her off her feet, and carried her to the bed. He tumbled her down and she giggled, the sound not as nervous as she’d expected. He shot her a look from under heavy lids and reached for her stockings, drawing first one, then the other, off.
    Lying across the coverlet clad only in her fine