“I love you, too.”
Another truth. She had loved him almost all her days. For a terrible moment he moved away from her, but when she forced her eyes to open, he was back, holding her to his naked body. Their limbs entwined and nothing had ever felt so good and so right. He moved above her, his knee gently drawing her legs apart, his hips settling into place. She gasped as he entered her, knowing only a moment’s pain before pleasure took her in its grip once again. Tristan filled her wholly. His mouth covered hers, swallowing her cries, before he pulled back his head.
“Marry me.”
Her hands clawed at his shoulder as her hips bucked against him, instinctively wanting him to move inside her, but he thrusted deep and then stayed still.
“Marry me,” he said again, nudging his hips just enough to stimulate her from the inside in a way that sent her close to the edge of a precipice she had never known existed.
“Aye,” she gasped, releasing all she had to the desire staking claim of her senses. “I will marry you, Tris.”
There followed a long stretch of what she could only call bliss. Their bodies rocked together and Mirrie soared over the precipice, wrapping her legs around him as she shattered into pieces. He called out her name, eyes squeezed shut, then slumped against her so for a while she bore his full, muscular weight.
She could not move. She did not want to move. He was pinning her to the ground and she thought she had ne’er been in a place that felt so right.
Then he rolled to his side and pulled her towards him, kissing her lips and her forehead, embracing her closely. And naught had ever felt better than that.
“Mirrie. You have made me the happiest man in all of England.”
She snuggled against him, enjoying the warmth of his flesh and the sun on her limbs. She had no words, but it did not matter. She only wanted to prolong this moment, when she had all she had dreamed of and more besides.
He traced his finger down her cheek. “You are wise and good and beautiful, but I must tell you, you are wrong about one thing.”
“Oh yes?” She raised an eyebrow inquisitively. “What is that?”
“When the time comes, you will make a remarkable countess.”
A flicker of unease unfurled in her belly. Her fears, so long held, could not so easily be put aside. But she reminded herselfthat Tristan knew the responsibilities and requirements of his position.
And Tristan has chosen me.
She recalled his words, just now: “I have faith in you. I always have.”
In the school room at Wolvesley he had claimed to see the true depths of her courage.
She closed her eyes so he would not see her tears of joy.
“I will try,” she whispered, breathing in his unmistakably masculine scent.
“You will succeed.” He kissed her shoulder. “Just as you succeed at all else.”
She settled herself against him, comforted by the rhythmic beating of his heart.
“I am glad I persuaded you to say yes.”
She smiled, her face still pressed against his chest. “You were most persuasive.”
His hands stroked her back. “I will be sure to remember the best way to negotiate with my wife.”
“Do not presume that I will give way in all things,” she said, with mock seriousness.
“I have yet to introduce you to all the methods at my disposal,” he replied, with a chuckle that sent a thrill of anticipation through her.
But what had been agreed between them was a serious matter, and mayhap they should not jest so soon. She arched back her head so she could look him in the eye.
“Did you come to Ember Hall intending to ask me to marry you?”
He held her gaze, tenderly but honestly. “I came here with the hope of courting you. I have to say, I did not plan to propose.”
