Francie was entirely boneless. She was floating on a sea of sated pleasure, and the only other person in her universe was Reggie. He lay on top of her like a very heavy but pleasing blanket. She ran her fingers through his hair.

"You were right about one thing," he said, his voice muffled by the fact that he was speaking almost directly into her shoulder.

"What's that?" she asked idly.

"We should have done this at the inn."

That made her chuckle a good deal more than it should and he raised his face to grin at her.

"Oh stop, you," she admonished.

He propped his head on his hand. "I love you, you know."

"I'd heard some gossip to that effect," she said.

"You can't really trust gossip, you know. You should have asked me directly."

"If you'll recall, the only reason I know any of this is because I asked you."

"I had a plan," he reiterated.

"Since it didn't include asking me what I wanted it was a terrible plan."

"It was a wonderful plan. It just didn't survive contact with the enemy."

"I'm the enemy now?" she asked with mock outrage.

"Only figuratively."

"You're going to make a terrible husband."

He tickled her ribs, making her squeak and wriggle. "I will be a wonderful husband."

"You already called yourself my enemy," she said, grabbing his tickling fingers.

"Enemies can become allies. War is a tricky business."

"I love you, Reggie Burnham."

"I know," he said, staring deeply into her eyes. She felt herself melt under his attentive gaze. "See how easy that was?" he asked. "No sarcasm at all from me."

She laughed. "Like I said, a terrible husband."

He kissed her smackingly on the lips and stood up, reaching down a hand for her. "We're to have supper with the captain soon. We'd best be dressed for that."

When she was standing next to him she said, "Tell me again."

"What, that we're having supper with the captain?"

"No, the other thing. The love thing."

He pulled her close. "I love you, Francie Walters."

She put her hands on his cheeks. "Thank you," she said, staring deeply into his eyes.

After a few moments he puffed out a breath. "So that's why you're not serious very often."

"Why is that?"

"You're far too good at it."

She smiled up at him. "Better than you?"

"Well," he said, "I don't know that I'd go quite that far."

She laughed as she'd not done in years.

 

***

 

The next few days flew for Reggie. He worked most of the time, but he lived for the stolen moments with Francie. His wife-to-be. She loved the ocean and, much to his delight, the time they spent in their makeshift bed in her cabin. He regretted that London would put an end to their private time together. How much had they wasted? If only they'd been honest with each other immediately about their feelings. Hell, he could have taken her to Scotland easily from Cleadon. At the time he'd thought it so important to seek his family's approval of the match, but at this point if they didn't approve he would tell them they could go hang. His only regret would be all the debts he'd accrued in the Burnham name because it was stick in his father's craw all the more if it were for a match he detested. But he would face that bridge if and when he came to it.

Francie looked back at him from the bow where he'd brought her to watch their docking. "Reggie, this is amazing! How large is the city?"

"Miles and miles," he assured her. He was leaning on some of the lines to keep himself from gathering her against him. He tried to have some sense of decorum. But if she kept smiling at him like that he would be forced to pull her back until her bottom nestled just so on his front. And that led him to wondering how long they could be in their cabin 'gathering their things' before disembarking. The captain had kept a blind eye to their frivolity but it was quite possible he shouldn't assume that would continue. But bloody hell, he wanted to see her grin over her shoulder at him like that while he was inside her.

Perhaps he shouldn't take her to her family or his, just to some fancy hotel where he could lavish her with sweets and rare wines. The thought of licking brandy off her breasts made his blood rush south all that much faster. He'd said she would be the death of him one day, but he was beginning to suspect it would be for a far different reason than he'd first thought.

She pointed to various landmarks asking what they were. He told her what he knew and had to admit that there were a good number of things about London he'd never noticed before. The ship docked without incident and Francie lingered on the deck to watch it all like an enthusiastic child. That meant, however, they had far less time to pack up and leave. He changed back into his one set of civilian clothing while she chattered about all the things she'd seen at docking as though he hadn't been right there beside her. They took their leave of the captain and crew and walked back onto dry land. The dock was crowded with mid-day workers and sailors.

"Stay close," he said. She slid her hand in the crook of his arm and pressed against his side.

Making his way through the crowd to the first road, he hailed a cab. While the hackney picked his way across the crowded street Reggie turned to her. "I was wondering if..."

"Out with it," she said. "You're terrible at asking things."

He grinned at her and straightened to his full height. "Typically an officer doesn't ask, he commands."

"I've noticed that, too," she said, poking him in the chest. "But you're not just an officer, you're a gentleman. And a gentleman asks."

"I wondered if you might want to spend a night or two at a hotel before we-"

"Yes! Yes, yes, yes!" She hopped up and down, then threw her arms around him. He wasn't sure he'd ever had a more popular idea.

"Well, since that's settled," he said.

She covered her mouth with her hand. "Am I a terrible person? Should I be checking on my cousin? I should be checking on my cousin. What if that horrible Mr. Donovan did something to her?"

"I'm sure Harry and Caversham have it well in hand."

"Truly?"

"On my honor." He really had to hope he didn't burn in hell for that one. And now he had to wonder how terrible a friend he was to sneak off to a hotel when he could be checking on Harry.

But shortly all of their lives would be full of things like receiving hours and balls and the fashionable hour. Honestly, Francie had no idea what she was getting into. Hopefully he could spend the next two days convincing her that no matter what the ton threw at her, he was worth it.

He handed her up into the cab and threw their luggage in after giving the cabbie his direction. Once settled he knew that she would be distracted by the sights for the rest of the journey, so he might as well relax. She was so enthusiastic that she was nearly hanging from the window trying to see everything. How had God seen fit to keep this sweet, joyful creature trapped in Cleadon all these years? Or had she been waiting for him? He would hate to have missed seeing her see London the first time. Or having the ocean spray cover her the first time. Or, and this really hurt to contemplate, seeking her pleasure the first time. He was glad to be here for all of it.

She turned to him on the seat, her face lit up with excitement. "Reggie! We're in London!" As though he could have missed that fact.

He kissed her gloved hand. "I know, love. Once I have you settled at your uncles we can start shopping for your new wardrobe."

"Oh, no," she plucked at her light blue serge. "I already have dresses."

He raised his brows at her. "You know how the girls in Cleadon had to have a prettier dress for the May Day party than any other time of the year?"

"Well, yes."

"London is several steps above that. Imagine you were going to a May Day party with the right hand of God."

"That's ridiculous."

He shrugged. "I only try to share my wise counsel with you."

She sank back into her seat. "No wonder you left London."

"I was taken from London," he corrected.

"Right, I'm sorry." She sounded sincerely contrite, which mollified him. "But after one of those parties you will promise to take me from London too?"

"Brat," he said, tugging her close for a kiss.

"I'm sure I'll like Bermuda better," she assured him, patting his chest.

"It is warm."

"See, I'm liking it better already."

The cab pulled up in front of an impressive house on Albemarle Street and Reggie handed Francie down.

"Oh, this is lovely," she said.

Liveried footmen came to retrieve their luggage and in less than a quarter hour they were registered in a spacious room under the names Mr. and Mrs. Burnham.