Luckily Lincoln held my hand as I stumbled through the graveyard back to the front of the church or I would have fallen. I hardly noticed where I stepped. My mind reeled with questions and theories, none of which made any sense.

The others had left and a hansom waited for us by the curb. Lincoln assisted me to the seat and closed the door in front of our knees. Lincoln gave the driver directions to Harcourt House through the ceiling hatch before changing his mind and giving him a different address. I didn't recognize it.

"How did you know she wasn't dead?" I asked as we drove off.

"I had a long time to contemplate it in my cell," he said. "There were too many things that didn't make sense, and I concluded that we were wrong. Swinburn wouldn't risk his life and reputation to bring about my downfall, and Julia wouldn't take her own life. She's not the type."

He wasn't the first to say it. I should have taken more notice of those who knew her well. "But…I don't understand. Did she stage her own death? How, when her body was recovered and identified?"

"Identified by Buchanan. To be fair, I don't think he knew when he visited us after seeing the body in the mortuary. He thought she was dead. I asked Fullbright only last night about the injuries and he said the face was badly damaged. Buchanan identified the body based on clothing, rings and other personal items."

"Items that could easily be given to someone else." I shook my head slowly, barely able to comprehend the lengths she'd gone to. "She found someone of similar height and weight to herself, didn't she?"

"Most likely a whore. She dressed her in her own clothes and sent her on her way. She put on men's clothing and at the right moment, pushed the imposter in front of an omnibus."

I swallowed the bile rising up my throat. I knew the answer to my next question but asked it anyway. "Why?"

He squeezed my hand but offered no response.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Buchanan's residence. She'll need help now. She can't go home, she can't be seen by anyone who knows her, and he's the only one who'd help her."

It was true. He'd do anything for her; he was completely devoted, in his own perverse way.

Andrew Buchanan rented rooms in an uninspiring Bloomsbury house. The landlady led us up two flights of stairs. Buchanan opened the door on our knock and was clearly shocked to see us.

"Fitzroy! What the devil are you doing here?"

Lincoln thanked the landlady, dismissing her. He waited until her footsteps receded then muscled his way inside. Buchanan offered little resistance, although he tried.

"I say! What are you doing?"

Lincoln peeled off into the adjoining sitting room only to emerge moments later. He searched the rest of the lodgings, ignoring Buchanan's protests as he trailed behind.

I made myself comfortable in the sitting room. It was rather barren, with the barest of furniture and no pictures on the walls. No knick knacks made it a home. A box of unpacked books stood to one side, perhaps because there was no bookshelf to arrange them on. The window was open and the curtain drifted back and forth with the light breeze. Even so, the room was stifling.

Lincoln and Buchanan returned. Lincoln's expression was unreadable, and Buchanan's was anxious. At least he was sober, and there were no signs of mourning. When he'd come to Lichfield after learning of Lady Harcourt's death, he'd been inconsolable, and I'd predicted he'd be like that for weeks. The clear-eyed, clean-shaven man before us was out of character. I needed no more evidence that Lady Harcourt was alive, and not only did he know it, but he was helping her.

"What's the meaning of this?" he demanded.

"Just a visit," Lincoln said, his eyes hooded.

"We thought we should see how you were faring," I said. "You were in a bad way last time we met."

"Yes. Well. Thank you, I'm fine now. I am rather busy, though."

"Are you moving back into Harcourt House?" I indicated the box of books.

"No."

"Why not? Now that she's gone, it must belong to you and your brother in its entirety."

His lips stretched thin. "I can't face it yet. This place will do me nicely for now."

"Of course. Did you know that Lincoln and I got married this morning?" I held up my hand to show him the wedding ring. I hadn't even put gloves on before racing out of the house.

Slowly, slowly, he smiled. It wasn't cruel or disdainful, as I expected from him. It was victorious. "I'm pleased. Very, very pleased." He shook Lincoln's hand then kissed my cheek. "Congratulations. And here I thought you wouldn't get out of prison in time, Fitzroy."

"How did you know I was in prison?"

"Well." Buchanan affected a laugh. "I believe it was Lord Gillingham who told me."

"You're lying."

Buchanan's mouth shut with a clack of back teeth.

The front door opened and I shot to my feet, expecting Buchanan to warn Lady Harcourt to flee. But he did not. Perhaps because it wasn't her. Perhaps we'd been wrong and she wasn't hiding out here.

The throaty voice coming from the hallway put my doubts to rest. "I cannot believe it!" cried Lady Harcourt. "They let him go!" She appeared in the doorway, stopping dead when she spotted Lincoln.

It was one of those moments in which time freezes. No one and nothing moved, not a finger or an eyebrow. Even the breeze died.

Lady Harcourt did not try to run away, perhaps because she knew she could never outrun Lincoln.

"It seems congratulations are in order," I said when no one else tried to break the heavy silence. "You are not dead, Lincoln is free, and we are married. What a wonderful day this has turned out to be."

Her throat moved with her swallow and she reached out to grasp the door. It would seem our news had unbalanced her more than the sight of seeing us.

That was why Buchanan hadn't warned her—he wanted her to see that she'd failed and that Lincoln and I married after all, despite her machinations to keep us apart. He was always trying to win her back, always trying to force her to love him above any other, even now.

"Won't you congratulate them, dear Julia?" Buchanan drawled. "Show them you're pleased for them. Come now, water under the bridge and all that."

"Stop it," she snarled. "Stop this charade, Andrew. You are in as much trouble as I am."

"For what?" he blurted out.

"For harboring me. For not notifying the police that I was alive after I showed up here."

"True," Lincoln said. "But that is not a hanging offence. Murder is."

She swallowed again but she let go of the door. Buchanan promptly sat. "Don't tell anyone," he begged Lincoln. "Let her go. If she hangs, it will be on your conscience."

Lincoln didn't take his gaze off Lady Harcourt. If he'd heard Buchanan's plea, he showed no sign. She stared defiantly back, daring him to capture her.

"She committed murder just so she could stage her own death," I said to Buchanan. "An innocent woman—"

"Whores aren't innocent," Buchanan said. "Not even the ones of respectable birth and good breeding." He fluttered a hand in Lady Harcourt's direction.

She rounded on him. "Will you not stop? Can you not see it's over? Do you exist only to torture me?"

"A man must get his pleasures where he can."

She made a harsh sound low in her throat. "You were pathetic when I showed up on your doorstep. Pathetic and ridiculous. He fell all over me," she told us. "He was so happy to see me alive that he couldn't stop pawing me." She crossed the room to the window and slapped a hand on the sill. "He took me right here with the curtains open. Anyone could have seen. The neighbors…" She closed her eyes. "It was hideous and humiliating. I wished I really was dead."

Buchanan's chest heaved. His hands opened and closed at his sides and his face screwed up, as if he were trying hard not to cry or shout or both. She thrust out her chin, daring him to react.

With her sickening words ringing in my ears, I stood. "I'll ask the landlady to fetch the police."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Buchanan rush toward me. I had only a moment to settle into a fighting stance, my fists up to defend myself. Lincoln was too far away to stop him.

But Buchanan hurtled past me, straight for Lady Harcourt. I realized what he was going to do in the moment before he did it. My reaction was too slow.

I watched in horror as he pushed her out the window then followed her through it. There was no scream or shout, merely a distant thud.

I covered my cry with both hands. My knees trembled and I had to sit again. Lincoln strode to the window and peered out.

"Are they…?" I murmured.

He nodded. "People are already milling. I have to see that the police are informed."

"Go. I'll be down in a moment."

He touched my shoulder as he passed. Someone in the distance gave a horrified cry and another shouted. Then everything went quiet, calm, and I suspected Lincoln had taken charge.

I wanted to join him but I waited for the drift of mist to coalesce in the sitting room. I wasn't all that surprised when two figures formed, one in the shape of Lady Harcourt and the other of Andrew Buchanan. They were inseparable even in death. How fitting.

"Well," she said, looking at him. "That's that." She touched the bloodied, damaged side of her face then stared at her hand.

The back of Buchanan's head had caved in, leaving his handsome face untouched. He smiled at her. "Forever together, as it should be. We are meant for one another, Julia. You know that. This proves it."

She simply lifted one shoulder, the movement as elegant in death as in life. If someone had just pushed me out the window, I would do more than shrug when confronting him.

"You goaded Mr. Buchanan," I told her. "You wanted to end it all, but you wanted him to end it for you, didn't you?"

She drifted to the window and peered down at the bodies. Or perhaps she was looking for Lincoln.

"He's quite the man," she said, confirming that he did indeed capture her interest.

Buchanan's spirit shimmered violently and he bit off a string of foul words. "Can you not forget him now? It's over!"

"Even if he never met me," I told her, "he wouldn't be with you."

"I thought sending him to prison would keep him from you." Her spirit deflated, although there was no breath within her to expel. "It was a foolish notion, borne of desperation. I admit that now."

"You told Mr. Salter about the ministry," I said. "You told him and other newspapermen about Lincoln being the leader, and you urged your parliamentary friends to set up a committee to investigate him."

"The newspapers, yes, but I have no political sway. I heard the Duke of Edinburgh boasting about it so I suggest you look there."

So he'd played a part after all. We could do nothing to bring him to justice, but at least his influence had been trounced by his brother's.

Her full lips curved seductively. "The possibility of losing Lincoln upset you, didn't it, Charlotte?"

I didn't answer. I simply sat with as serene an expression as I could muster through my anger. The last thing I wanted was to act exactly as she hoped. She would end her existence here without that satisfaction.

"I came up with the idea of landing Lincoln in trouble after reading the report about the attack in The Star," she went on. "It went a little too well. I wasn't expecting his arrest. I don't know who informed the reporter about werewolves, but I knew you would suspect Ignatius of the attacks. Horrid man."

Buchanan's spirit shimmered again. "If you disliked him enough to implicate him, why did you want to marry him?"

"Don't pretend stupidity, Andrew. You know why. I needed the security marriage to him would bring me. He would have released me before we walked down the aisle, you know. I admit to being a fool there. I gave him everything I knew about Lincoln and the ministry. I should have kept some in reserve." Her voice drifted away and her spirit thinned. She was about to cross.

"We could have been happy together," Buchanan whined.

She looked at him and her ghostly form strengthened.

"We could have run away together, gone where no one knew us," he said. "We could have made a fresh start." He swooped and circled her before settling once again. "But you wanted to stay so you could be near him."

She looked down at the scene below again. "It made me happy knowing his plan to marry Charlotte was thwarted. So very happy. He broke my heart so it was only fair that I played a hand in breaking his."

"Except you didn't." I flashed my ring at her and stood. "Now, if you don't mind, our guests are waiting."

Her spirit rushed forward and stopped in front of me. She bared her teeth. It was rather a frightful sight, considering those on her left side were smashed or missing altogether. "I will haunt you, Charlotte! I will make your life miserable!"

"No, you won't. You can only haunt the place where you died." I indicated the sitting room. "I can't imagine Lincoln or I will ever have the need to come back here."

The spirit suddenly dispersed, emitting a chilling scream that rang in my ears and hung in the air long after she was gone. I looked out the window but couldn't see her there, either. I allowed myself a deep, slow breath of relief.

Buchanan swirled around, looking for her. He tried to leave the room but found he could only go out the window, down to his death, and back up again. Everything else was off limits. When he realized she was gone, he pleaded with me not to leave yet.

"What happens now?" He looked frightened and confused, almost childlike.

"You either cross over to your afterlife or stay and haunt here," I said. "It's your choice."

"There's no point staying here without her."

"Goodbye, Mr. Buchanan."

"Call me Andrew. We were friends, after all, weren't we, Charlie?"

I said nothing, just watched as his spirit dissolved. Then I went downstairs and joined Lincoln.

---

We found our guests in a genial mood sitting in the shade of an oak tree on the lawn. Leisl, Lady Vickers and the Marchbanks sat on dining chairs while the rest lounged on rugs. Even David smiled. Cook commanded the picnic basket while Seth topped up Eva's glass. She watched him through lowered lashes, a secret smile on her lips. Alice watched them both with a small frown. It would seem my friend was jealous of the attention Seth paid Eva. Good. Jealousy meant she cared about him. He would be pleased, and I half suspected he was flirting with Eva for that exact reason. I only hoped she didn't get the wrong end of the stick.

Our arrival was met with warm embraces and congratulatory cheers. Seth placed a glass in my hand and Cook produced dish after dish from the basket. Somehow he'd managed to cook pies, tarts and scones, roast beef and duck, and prepare the most mouth-watering desserts with no staff to help him.

"This is excellent," I told him. "You're a marvel."

He beamed and his entire head flushed red. "Best thing is, there be plenty more to take round to Mrs. Sullivan and her orphans later."

"You do think of everyone." I kissed his cheek and received another blush for my efforts. "Is the dining room damaged?" I asked, looking at the house.

"It wasn't hit but most of the glasses and crystal broke," Seth said as he eyed off a plate of scones. "It's a bit of a mess. We salvaged some chairs and other bits and pieces." He indicated the vases of roses and silver cutlery.

"Poor Lichfield," I said on a sigh. "We only just finished fixing the kitchen after General Eastbrooke's explosion, and now this."

Lincoln laid a hand on mine. "We'll set it to rights quickly. The damage doesn't look too extensive."

"At least the tower is intact," Gus said.

"Now," Lord Marchbank said, "I have to know what you two have been up to."

"Ewan, this is a celebration," his wife scolded.

"It's all right," I said. "I'd rather get it over with now so we can move on to happier things." I looked to Lincoln and he urged me to go on with a nod. "Lady Harcourt and Andrew Buchanan are dead. He pushed her out a window then he followed her."

I expected a barrage of questions, but not the stunned silence. I gave a brief account of what happened and my conversation with the ghosts afterward.

"I know I ought to feel sympathy for them," Lady Marchbank said, "but I find I don't."

I suspected she was not alone in her feelings.

"I am glad they crossed over," Lady Vickers said. "Imagine how the new tenant would feel having the spirits of Lady Harcourt and Andrew Buchanan haunting the house."

"So that is the end of that," Seth said, leaning back on his hands. He looked to Alice but she didn't notice. Her tired gaze darted around the garden. The army's presence, only a few hours earlier, was evident in the divots made in the lawn from the boots and horses' hooves. She needed a distraction from that nightmare.

"Alice, I need you in the house," I said. "You too, Eva, if you wouldn't mind."

My room was at the opposite end of the house to the damage, fortunately. With Eva and Alice's help, I shucked out of my old dress and put on my wedding gown. "I was determined to wear this thing at some point," I told them with a laugh.

Alice did up the hooks and eyes at the back while Eva brushed out my hair. It was a bit of a mess after all the activity of the morning. It took some time for them both to arrange it with the string of pearls Lady Vickers had left on my bedside table. She also left a scented note saying she hoped I could make use of the loan. I certainly did. The effect was very becoming.

"I feel like a princess," I said, studying my reflection.

"You look lovely," Eva said, stepping back. "What a beautiful bride. Lincoln will be delighted to see you in the dress."

"I suspect Lincoln would rather see her out of it," Alice said with a wicked smile.

A hot flush heated my entire body, and I suddenly didn't know where to look.

"Speaking of which," Alice went on, "we've all made arrangements to stay with Mrs. Sullivan tonight so you'll have Lichfield to yourselves. She has room in that big old house if some of us share a bedroom."

I slipped on my heeled shoes and we headed back outside. Lincoln stood upon seeing me, an odd smile on his lips. It took me a moment to realize it was somewhere between a stunned smile and a happy one. I did a twirl upon Lady Vickers' command then found myself scooped up into Lincoln's arms. He kissed me more thoroughly than was acceptable in front of our guests, but nobody minded.

"Do you like the dress?" I asked.

"I do," he murmured. "But I like what's in the dress more."

I circled my arms around his neck and kissed him again until Lady Vickers declared enough was enough. "There'll be time for all of that later."

"Is the dress easy to get off?" Lincoln whispered in my ear as he set me on my feet.

"It could provide you with a challenge," I said.

"Good." He nuzzled my neck. "I like a challenge."

"I wish we had music for dancing," Lady Vickers said. "Why didn't we organize a quartet?"

"We could sing," Gus said. "I'm a good singer."

Seth snorted. "You sound like a strangled cat."

Gus threw a strawberry at him.

Lincoln suddenly turned in the direction of the front gate. His sister and mother did the same thing. A rider appeared a moment later. I recognized him as one of the Gillinghams' servants. He handed a message to Lincoln then rode off again.

"What does it say?" Lord Marchbank asked.

"It's from Harriet," Lincoln said, lowering the note so I could read it too.

"She's had the baby!" I told them.

"Isn't she only a few months along?" Lady Marchbank asked.

"Ah, I forgot to fill you in on that little piece of news, my dear," her husband said.

"She was near full term when she found out?"

"No, the gestation period of wolves is shorter, apparently."

David pulled a face. "Did she give birth to a wolf?"

"According to this," I said, "the baby looks normal. She and the baby are well but Lord Gillingham fainted."

That produced a round of chuckles.

"The letter also says that she encouraged Gillingham to tell Mr. Salter that he made up the story about werewolves and Gawler's involvement in the murders," Lincoln said. "A retraction will be printed in tomorrow's edition." He folded up the letter. "That should ease the public's fear."

"And be the final nail in the coffin of Mr. Yallop's select committee," Seth added.

"Once the palace exert some pressure in the same direction, I think Mr. Yallop will have no choice but to stop his investigation."

It was an immense relief and meant I could enjoy the rest of the afternoon. The only problem left to tackle now was what to do about the army. I was at a loss for suggestions, but I also didn't want to think too much about it. Not today. Today was for laughter and feasting, and enjoying Lincoln's company, and the heady anticipation of being alone with him tonight.

He excused himself and headed back to the house. I watched him go, admiring the shape of his body as it tapered from broad shoulders to narrow hips, and the way his trousers fit nicely.

Gus came to stretch out alongside me, leaning on his elbow. He nodded in the direction of Eva and Leisl, having a quietly earnest discussion. I wouldn't have thought much of it except they kept glancing in Seth's direction as he lay flat on his back near Alice, his eyes closed.

"They're arguing about him," Gus whispered.

"Why?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Do you see the way Alice is looking at him too?"

I studied Alice, sitting with her feet out to the side, leaning on her hand. She was looking at Seth, perhaps taking advantage of his eyes being closed to study him properly, but her features were unreadable. She looked away when Lady Vickers called her name then joined her with a smile. At least those two were getting along now.

Leisl nudged her daughter but Eva shook her head and spoke crossly. I was extremely curious and was trying to think of a way to get closer without making it too obvious that I was eavesdropping when Lady Marchbank interrupted me.

"Where will you go on your honeymoon, Charlie?" she asked.

"I don't know. I think Lincoln has something planned, but we can't go yet." I didn't dare glance in Alice's direction. "When things settle down."

"You must go," Leisl declared. "Alice has her destiny and it does not involve you or Lincoln."

"Destiny?" Alice echoed. "What do you mean?"

Seth sat up abruptly. "Who else does it involve? Me?"

"Not everything's about you." Gus threw another strawberry at him. Seth caught it and popped it in his mouth.

Leisl waved away their questions and claimed she could see very little, although I could tell from Eva's face that she didn't believe her mother. Fortunately, further interrogation was headed off by Lady Marchbank.

"What's Lincoln holding?" she asked.

He strode across the lawn toward us carrying a basket considerably smaller than the picnic one.

"Is the cake in there?" I asked Cook.

"No, but thanks for the reminder." He got up and headed toward the house.

Beside me, Gus chuckled. "Is this the thing you were sent to fetch after the ceremony?" I asked him.

He smiled smugly and refused to answer.

Lincoln knelt before me and set the basket down on the rug. "My wedding gift to you, Charlie." He leaned across the basket and planted a light, airy kiss on my lips that promised more later.

"But you've given me so much already," I said. "The wedding dress, jewelry, all of this today and everything to come."

"Those weren't my wedding gift. This is. Open it."

What could he possibly give me that had to arrive in a basket? And why was the basket moving? It yapped.

I lifted the lid and a little brown ball of fur with long floppy ears and a white patch on its chest leapt up. "A puppy! Lincoln, you got me a puppy!" I gathered up the wriggling dog and snuggled him in my arms. I giggled as he licked my hand. "He's adorable."

"You mentioned wanting a dog."

"Oh, Lincoln, he's the sweetest thing. What's his name?"

"He doesn't have one yet."

I set the puppy in my lap but he wanted to explore so I let him go. We had to put away all of the leftover food but he seemed happy enough to wander around sniffing everything and everyone.

"Where did you find him?" I asked.

"An advertisement in the paper. I took a look at the litter last week and picked him out. It was the day I came home smelling like lavender."

"Why lavender?"

"I didn't want to smell like dog or you'd guess, so the owner gave me some lavender water to wash my hands in after handling the puppies. I didn't consider how it would seem to you until later. Then I worried you might think I'd been doing something else."

I smiled. "No, Lincoln. It never entered my head."

He settled behind me and I leaned against him, watching the puppy explore. Lincoln put his arm around me and murmured, "Happy, Mrs. Fitzroy?"

I tilted my head back to peer up at him. "Very. You?"

"Yes." He languidly stroked my chin with his thumb and held my gaze. "I never thought I would be this happy. Never allowed myself to even consider it. Never felt I deserved it," he added in a quieter tone.

I turned in his arms to look at him directly. "You deserve it more than anyone I know, Lincoln. And if anyone says otherwise, they'll have to answer to me."

He smiled as he touched my hair near my ear. "If you believe I'm a good person, Charlie, then I believe it too."

He kissed me, his lips pecking and teasing mine. It wasn't enough. I leaned into him and deepened the kiss, only breaking away when the puppy yapped at us.

A while later, when the sun lost some of its heat, we packed up our picnic and headed inside. The Marchbanks went home, the Cornells too, and Cook, Gus and Alice packed the leftovers, including slices of wedding cake, for Mrs. Sullivan and her orphan charges. Seth and Lincoln had quiet, serious words in the library. The snippets I caught mentioned the army and Wonderland. I didn't want to think about that now.

I went to my room to rest, only to find Lady Vickers there, waiting for me. She patted the bed beside her.

"We need to talk," she said crisply.

I groaned. "No, Lady V, please, spare me. I know you want to discuss marital relations, but I already know how everything works."

Her spine stiffened. "That wasn't what I was going to talk to you about."

"Oh." I sat beside her and she took my hand. "Is it about Seth and Alice?"

"It's about you, my dear." Her eyes filled with tears. "You're the closest thing I have to a daughter and I wanted you to know that I couldn't be prouder of you if you were."

I felt my own eyes well. "Thank you, Lady V, you're a wonderful mother figure. I'm very lucky to have you in my life." I drew her into a hug and kissed her cheek.

She hugged me back then pulled away. "Now," she said, "I've brought up some water and dropped in a few rose petals." She indicated the basin on the washstand. "You must prepare for your husband."

So it would seem we were having that discussion after all. Would it be rude if I ordered her out?

"I hope you're not too tired," she said. "From the way your husband looks at you, I suspect it's going to be a long night."

I was almost too shocked to ask, but I had to know. "How does he look at me?"

"Like a man who has desired you for a year and not acted on it."

I blinked at her. She smiled then signaled for me to turn around so she could undo the dress. "My wedding gift to you both is on your dressing table."

"Oh. Thank you. That's very kind."

The conversation I'd expected to happen never eventuated. Indeed, she departed after helping me out of the dress and I was left to my own devices. I laughed when I unwrapped her gift. For both of us indeed.

By the time I went downstairs, Lincoln was alone in the library, reading, the puppy asleep on the hearth rug. He'd shed his tie and waistcoat and sat in his shirt, the top buttons undone to reveal a spray of dark hair on his chest. I found it difficult to focus my attention anywhere else.

"Have they all gone?" I asked.

"Yes," he said, voice raspy.

"I thought I heard the carriage leave. What are you reading?"

He looked at the book as if surprised to see it in his hand. He shut it and set it down on the table. "I have no idea. I wasn't really reading."

I padded in my bare feet toward him, my hands clasped behind me. His Adam's apple bobbed with his swallow. "What were you doing if not reading?" I asked.

He gripped the chair arms. "Thinking."

"What about?"

"You."

I got within a foot of his outstretched legs and stopped. "What were you thinking about me?"

"That I can't wait to get you out of your wedding dress." His eyes turned smoky as his gaze dipped to my bare thighs. "But I see I'm too late."

I looked down at my new outfit, a short chemise that fell below my rear but not much further. "It's a gift from Lady V. Do you like it?"

A low growl rumbled from his chest. "Remind me to thank her."

I moved my shoulder, dislodging one of the chemise's thin straps. It fell down my arm, revealing the swell of my breast. "Apparently it's for both of us, but I don't think it'll fit you."

He stood slowly and prowled toward me, stopping so close I could almost taste him. "I think it looks better on you anyway."

He cupped my breast through the muslin and stroked his thumb across my nipple. We both moaned. Then he picked me up and carried me upstairs to our bedroom.