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“I do.”
She looked up at him with a slight furrow of her soft brows. “Rhys, are you well?”
He cleared his throat before answering. “Of course, I am.”
“Are you still trying to breathe?” she teased, biting her lip in the manner that turned him into a raging hungry beast.
Rhys nodded. “I am.” He had meant it earlier when he told her that he could not breathe, and he was fighting to now because of how overwhelmed he was feeling. This was the strangest thing he was feeling, yet he did not want it to stop. It also struck a chord of fear inside him.
They watched the sun rise in silence, and when the gulls began to fly over them, he softly said, “Liza, I think we should return to the Castle.”
“After another minute,” she murmured, her gaze on the sunrise. He leaned and kissed the top of her head.
“You may have as many minutes as you want.” He heard her smile as he said that before he recalled something he had wanted to tell her the night before. “The villagers are eager to meet you.”
“They are?” She looked up at him, her eyes wide and hopeful.
“Yes. Cullfield holds a Spring’s End Festival to welcome the summer every year. It begins in a few days, and that might be the best time to introduce you as my Marchioness.” Her gaze softened on the last two words, and he grinned, an invisible string tugging at his heart.
“Do the children in Mrs. Norton’s foundling home attend the festival?” she asked.
“They do, and they enjoy helping with the decorations in the village.”
“Can we visit them before the festival?”
“We can visit them this afternoon if you like.” Rhys wanted to ignore everything, especially the threat that loomed over them like a demonic cloud, and spend the day with her. It was impossible, but perhaps he could steal an afternoon with her.
“I would be most glad to.” She pulled away and began to rise, her excitement visible in her green eyes.
“Where are you going?” he asked, rising, too.
“Why, to find gifts for the children, of course. Would you like to help me?” When Rhys hesitated, thinking about everything else that needed his attention, she said, “I think we would be forgiven if we spend the afternoon together now that we are married.”
He laughed and raised a brow. “Reading thoughts now, are we?”
“Indeed, Lord Guildford,” she returned, and he groaned.
“Here I was, relieved that you will no longer call me that.” He folded the blanket she discarded and picked up their lamps.
“I thought you love your title, Rhys.”
“I do.” He set the blanket down and reached for her. “But you know what I wantyouto call me.” He lifted her on his shoulder and started up the hill.
“Rhys! The lamps and blanket!” Elizabeth giggled.
“I do not recall you giving a tinker’s damn about them before.”
He felt her hands in his hair as she asked, “Where are you taking me?”
“To a cave to show you the wonders that can happen when a man desperately wants a woman.”
“Are you desperate?” The sultry note in her voice made his blood surge with need.
“You know I am.” He quickened his pace and almost ran the rest of the distance back to the Castle. He was only taking them back home because it was morning, and they might offend some poor fellow’s sensibilities if someone saw them there. Rhys set her down at the side entrance before taking her hand and leading her up to their chambers.
As they crossed the hall where their chambers were, the door to his grandmother’s rooms opened, and she stepped out. Rhys and Elizabeth stopped while the Dowager’s gaze narrowed.
“What are you up to?” she asked, and Elizabeth sucked in her lips to hold back her laugh. “Why is your hair unbound, Elizabeth?”
