Free For All Eternity by Heather Cullman

his handsome face. Loving him more than she’d ever dreamed possible, she whispered, “I knew I could trust you to help me. I knew it.”
    He smiled gently. “Always, dearest. I shall always help you, no matter how dire your problem.”
    “I can’t imagine any problem being more dire than this one.” She clutched at his robe again, though this time without her earlier desperation. “Oh, Julian! Whatever are we to do? Edgar says that I must marry Lyndhurst. He made me accept his proposal this very morning.”
    Julian’s smile faded abruptly, and his expression grew solemn. Inching his face nearer to hers, he murmured, “Do you love me, Sophie? Truly and deeply?”
    “You know I do,” she swore.
    “Enough that you could spend the rest of your life with me?”
    Joy, fierce and pure, exploded through her chest at the meaning behind his words. As she’d hoped, he was going to marry her to save her from Lyndhurst. Thrilled beyond rapture, she whispered, “Yes, Julian. Yes! I love you with all my heart. Haven’t I told you so a dozen times?”
    “I just wanted to be certain of your feelings.”
    She threw her arms around his neck and pulled his face down to hers. “I have never loved another, and I never shall. You are the only man in the world for me.” She sealed the declaration with a passionate kiss.
    He groaned and squeezed her close. “And you, my dearest, are the only woman for me.” He returned her kiss in kind. “Marry me, Sophie. Today. We shall flee to Gretna Green and save you from Lyndhurst.” He kissed her again. “Say yes. Say you’ll be mine.”
    It was all she could do not to squeal in her delight. Her fondest dream was about to come true. She would be Viscountess Oxley. Wrapping her arms around his waist to give him an ecstatic hug, she cried, “Yes. Oh, yes! Let us go now! This very instant!”
    He chuckled. “I can hardly go to Gretna Green in just my dressing gown, though — ” his grin grew wicked ” — my lack of attire might come in handy afterward.” Afterward. Sophie ducked her head, flushing at the thought of what followed the ceremony. Odd, but she’d never thought past the altar with Julian, where that was all she thought about when with Lyndhurst. Now that she did think about it, she wondered what sort of man he was.
    Somehow she couldn’t imagine her beloved as a daisy or custard man. No. Or even a feather man for that matter. H-m-m. She hastened to recall Lydia’s brother’s marriage-bed accounts. Ah, yes. He was probably a bonbon and poetry man … the sort who fed a woman sweets while wooing her with romantic verses.
    Tingling with excitement at that thought, she stole a glance at his face. He was smiling down at her, looking every inch the loving groom-to-be. Yes. He was definitely a bonbon and poetry man. Shyly, she returned his smile.
    He growled in response and crushed her against him so completely that she felt every contour of his body through the thin fabric of his dressing gown. “Dear God, Sophie. You don’t know how I’ve dreamed of this moment,” he groaned. “You’re so beautiful, so very desirable. You could have any man in the ton — one far richer and with a much more important title than mine. I hardly feel worthy of you.”
    “Of course you’re worthy. There’s not a worthier man in the entire ton,” she assured him, smoothing a lock of hair from his brow. She liked the feel of the wifely motion and repeated it, thrilling at the thought of doing it every morning for the rest of her life. “As for wealth and title, I would rather live a modest life as your viscountess than a lavish one as Lyndhurst’s marchioness. Your love is all the riches I desire.”
    “Modest life?” He chuckled, a low, indulgent sound, as though she were a child who’d just said something particularly foolish. “My dearest Sophie. Though we shan’t live as opulently as you would with Lyndhurst, our existence shall hardly be modest. Between my ten thousand a