Graham arrived at Somerset House the next morning, the same time he always did, eager to see his bride. As he divested himself of his greatcoat and hat, he realized that, in spite of the earth-shattering events of yesterday, the house was surprisingly back to normal. The servants bustled about, and he could hear the duchess and the dowager chatting in the front parlor. Yet, there seemed to be an air of lightness to the whole scene where there had once been a dark shadow hanging overhead.

He didn’t bother to announce himself to the ladies—there was only one lady he wished to see this morning. So he bounded up the stairs two at a time and practically ran down the corridor until he reached her door. He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous—they were in love, to be married soon, and had shared some intimacies already. But something about this felt different. Perhaps it was knowing that she was finally, truly free to be his. That there was no more threat to their happiness, be it man or medicine.

He turned the knob and poked his head through the door. “Good morning,” he said, smiling at the vision of her propped up in bed, a large tray of food on her lap. “How is my favorite patient?”

She beamed back at him. Even with her mouth full of food, she was beautiful, radiant. His dream come true.

“You shouldn’t play favorites with your patients, you know?” she teased, her dark eyes glistening in the morning light.

Graham closed the door behind him and moved to the bed, placing his bag on the floor and taking a seat beside her. “You will have to find it in your heart to forgive me, but I simply cannot help myself.”

“Well,” she giggled, “perhaps I can allow it just this once.”

He couldn’t wait any longer. He lifted up off the seat and placed his hands on either side of her on the bed before leaning down to capture her sweet lips. “Someone’s been eating sweet biscuits for breakfast,” he murmured.

“I would offer you some,” she said, her voice lower now, seductive, “but then you wouldn’t be able to kiss me.”

He needed no more encouragement. He would forego a lifetime of sweet biscuits in order to be able to kiss her and never stop.

Their tongues intertwined. She was so soft, so perfect. Everything he’d ever dreamed of. Hannah, his beautiful, beautiful bride. But suddenly, kisses were not enough.

He pulled away and took the tray from her lap, placing it on top of the dresser. Then he began to divest himself of his clothing—he couldn’t do it fast enough. And Hannah watched, lust and desire infusing her smile, lighting her eyes.

“Do you plan to have your way with me right now?” she asked, hope in her tone.

“If it pleases my lady.”

“Oh, it pleases her.”

With one last tug of his cravat, it came free and he tossed it to the floor, along with his boots, pants, and shirt, leaving him clad in only his undergarments. The proof of his desire straining against his drawers.

Hannah patted the bed, inviting him to join her, and he did so with great alacrity. He climbed atop her, showering her with kisses, with love.

* * *

Never in her life had Hannah imagined lovemaking could be so…loving. But Graham was so gentle, so caring, so concerned with her pleasure that it nearly made her cry. How was she so fortunate to have this man in her bed, in her life? After so many years of hating her life, hating herself, it felt like the most wonderful dream. A dream from which she hoped she never awakened.

His hands caressed her as their tongues danced with one another. Everything was so soft and wet and sweet, and Hannah wanted more. She’d never had the opportunity to be adventurous in bed. Her encounters had consisted of Beeston waking her in the dead of night, drunk and slobbering all over her. Hardly the stuff of dreams. But this…this was a dream. And Hannah was about to make Graham’s dreams come true, too.

She pushed against him, their eyes locked as she traded places with him, forcing him to the bed as she climbed atop him.

“Dear God,” he whispered. “Have I died?”

“You are about to,” Hannah purred. “In the Shakespearean sense, of course.”

This seemed to fuel his fire, and Graham reached up to pull her down to him, kissing her like she’d never been kissed in her life. Loving her like she’d never been loved.

And then, Hannah slipped herself over him, reveling in the glorious desire that filled her body and soul. It was enough to make her cry tears of joy, of relief, but they were short lived, replaced with sheer ecstasy as they became one, in a perfect rhythm. Until neither could hold back any longer.

Hannah exploded inside, the heat and wonder overcoming her, transcending any earthly feeling she’d ever experienced. And then Graham was with her, holding her closer, tighter. Filling her, pressing further than she thought possible. Loving her harder than she ever could have imagined.

When the fire had died to a dull ember, Hannah collapsed atop him, and then he rolled her to the side, so they lay face-to-face, nose-to-nose. She couldn’t wipe the smile from her lips, no matter how hard she tried.

“I suppose you will have to marry me now,” she teased.

Graham gave a little laugh. “I suppose I shall,” he replied. “And I shall never, ever complain about it.”

They kissed again, briefly, just a simple gesture of love, rather than a rabid one of passion.

Then Graham turned serious. “If you ever want to talk about what happened—”

“I don’t,” Hannah cut him off. “It was nothing worse than I endured being married to him. Well, aside from the part where he put a gun to my head. That was entirely new, but…thank heavens for Miss Delaney.”

“Indeed.” Graham smiled at her. “You are an extraordinary woman.”

“Perhaps I had to be for such an extraordinary man to love me.”