There were many things about growing older that Alex could have done without. Knees that creaked and popped when he bent over James to show him how to hold a cricket bat and hit a ball, for example. But age had also brought with it a degree of patience and circumspection that he never would have appreciated as a younger man.

“Set your stance a little wider and angle the bat like this,” he told James, holding his hands over the bat’s handle. “Get ready….”

He glanced up at Marigold, who stood several yards in front of them, both hands wrapped around a cricket ball. “I don’t want to throw it too hard,” she said, her face shining with happiness.

“Throw it underhand, then. We’ll hit it. Won’t we, son.”

A zip of pride shot through Alex’s heart. Finally, he was able to openly call James his son. Phillips had shuttled legal papers back and forth for weeks, everything had been signed that needed to be signed, and as soon as the courts finished with their duties, James would be an official Croydon. Not that any amount of paper could make him more of a Croydon than he already was.

“Here goes.” Marigold swung her arm back, then forward, tossing the heavy cricket ball toward them.

“Ooh!” James exclaimed, putting every bit of his three-year-old effort into swinging. Thanks to Alex’s guidance, he managed to hit the ball, sending it loping off to the side.

“Run, run!”

Alex let go of James, and off the boy shot. The rules of the game were still fuzzy to his young mind, so instead of racing to the wicket where Marigold stood and turning to score another run, he threw aside his bat and charged face-first into Marigold’s skirts, shouting, “Mari!”

Marigold stumbled back a step, laughing, as she caught him and hugged him. The sight was so heart-warming that Alex was in danger of melting into a puddle where he stood. To fight the feeling, he straightened and beamed at his beautiful wife and adorable son, feeling like the luckiest man alive.

Of course, he’d feel even luckier once he and Marigold crossed over the last remaining hurdle between them and became lovers again. That was where his newfound patience turned into his best asset. She would come to him when she was ready, and he wouldn’t push her until she was. Even if it killed him. Which it was getting close to doing.

“And now for the best part of the game of cricket,” he said, striding toward the pair.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to make me have a go,” Marigold laughed, ruffling James’s hair as he clung to her leg.

“Not unless you want to,” Alex said. He grinned and kissed Marigold’s cheek. “The best part of cricket, of course, is tea.” He nodded toward the house, where Ruby and her new friend, Miss Goode, were setting up tea.

“Can I have a biscuit?” James asked, batting his long, dark lashes up at Marigold.

“Only if I can have one too,” Marigold answered, bending to kiss his forehead.

“I get one for you,” James said before tearing across the lawn toward the tea table.

Marigold laughed and watched him run. Alex watched her, his heart expanding until it felt too big for his chest. He took Marigold’s hand, simply enjoying the way it felt in his as he walked with her to the tea table.

“And they say the Prime Minister hisself is demanding Turpin give up his seat,” Miss Goode was whispering to Ruby as they reached the table. “Word is that Turpin is bloody angry about it and out for—” She clammed up the moment Alex looked directly at her.

“Don’t let me interrupt your gossip,” he said with a broad happy smile, although inwardly his gut tightened. The price of his happiness for the past few weeks had been neglecting to stay on top of what was happening to Turpin. A little bit of servant’s gossip was always the best way to wriggle back into the know.

Both Ruby and Miss Goode blushed and hurried to supply him, James, and Marigold with tea and biscuits, but their expressions hinted at drastically different emotions. Ruby seemed edgy, making Alex wonder if Miss Goode knew that she was the one at the heart of the Turpin Maid Scandal, or if Ruby was holding on to that secret. Miss Goode, on the other hand, had the usual look of a servant who had been caught whispering about her betters.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Ruby murmured as she handed him a cup of tea, keeping her eyes downcast. “We’re talking out of turn.”

“Not at all.” Alex smiled, hoping they would continue. “I haven’t heard much about the scandal for weeks. Is Turpin still in London?” he asked Miss Goode.

“I’m sure I don’t know, sir,” Miss Goode said, curtsying several times in a row and keeping her head tilted down.

Frustrated that the woman would choose now, of all times, to hold her tongue, Alex softened his smile and went on. “I suppose the papers are still full of stories. Is that where you’re getting your information?”

Miss Goode’s cheeks turned a brighter shade of pink. “Me sister,” she started, then bit her lip. “I’m sure I don’t know, sir,” she repeated.

“Never mind, then.” Alex took a sip of tea to hide his irritation. He would have to ask Phillips for a full report later, when he finished sorting through Alex’s wardrobe. Now that the business of adopting James was well underway, Phillips had turned to his more valet-oriented duties and had been inventorying Alex’s clothing to see what needed repair and what could be given away and replaced. It was a waste of Phillips’s talents, as far as Alex was concerned, and he had half a mind to set Phillips the task of finding his own replacement as valet so that he could shift to strictly being a man of business.

“Mari, look. Two biscuits!”

James pulled Alex out of his thoughts and back into a smile as he proudly held up two chocolate-dipped biscuits for Marigold to see.

“They’re lovely, dear,” she smiled. “Are you going to eat one?”

“I eat both,” James told her.

“Just one, sweetheart,” Marigold laughed, taking the second biscuit from him and nibbling on the side. She sent Alex a tempting glance, as though there were other things she’d like to be nibbling on too. The look sent Alex’s pulse pounding.

“You’re about ready for your nap, Master James,” Ruby said, crouching and holding her arms out.

“No,” James declared with a frown. “Play with Mari.”

“I think you should let Mrs. Croydon and your papa have some time to themselves,” Ruby laughed.

“No!” James insisted, clinging to Marigold’s skirts. “Mari.”

“It’s all right,” Marigold smoothed James’s head, removing his hand from her skirt. “You go with Ruby, sweetheart. I’ll see you after your nap.”

James fussed, and for a minute Alex wondered if he’d have to step in, but Miss Goode inched forward.

“We all have to take naps, Master James,” she said. “Do you want to run around the garden with me a few times to get good and tuckered out?”

James glanced suspiciously at the hand she held out to him. “I like run.”

“Then come on, I’ll race you.” Miss Goode burst into a short run, turning to glance back at James as she reached the corner of the house.

James giggled and raced after her. He caught up to her and took her hand, and together, the two of them tore around the corner of the house and out of sight.

“It’s a good thing Molly was here,” Ruby said, turning back to straighten the tea things. “She’s been so helpful this past week.”

“Doesn’t she have duties at Mr. Turnbridge’s school?” Marigold asked.

“She does,” Ruby said. “But now that the older kids are helping out with the smaller ones and the very youngest are staying home with their mamas, she says she has a bit more free time.”

“How fortunate for all of us,” Alex said, setting his teacup aside and taking Marigold’s hand. “It gives the rest of us time to ourselves.”

He glanced to Marigold, certain that everything he wanted to do with that time was plain as day on his face. Even Ruby grinned and shook her head at him.

“Don’t feel the need to stay here on my account, sir, ma’am,” she said with a curtsy. “I’ve got things well in hand here.”

Alex nodded to her, took Marigold’s teacup from her hands and set it on the table, then looped her arm through his and started off along the lawn, past their abandoned cricket game, and to the path that wound through the meadow in the direction of the river.

“Do you think James is happy at Winterberry Park?” Marigold asked as she and Alex strolled along the river path. The late-September sun shone down, filling her with warmth and making diamonds on the lazy river. Alex was a strong and steady presence by her side. After such a long time, everything felt right with the world.

“I think he’s overjoyed to be where he is,” Alex replied, hugging her arm against his side as he escorted her. His smile was free and easy, making lines around his eyes. The grey at his temples stood out in the sunlight, lending him a distinguished air. “I think he adores having a mama,” he added with a wink.

Marigold’s heart leapt in her chest, and she felt splashes of pleased pink flood her cheeks. “I think it would be very easy to love him as my own,” she said in a reverent voice. She would have to remember that he wasn’t hers. Part of her thought it would be a grave disservice to poor Violetta to wipe her away from James’s life completely, even though she’d never met the woman. But there would be time to address weighty issues like that in the years to come. For now, James needed a mother, and she would fill that role to the best of her ability.

“I hope Clara and Arthur don’t mind,” she added, a flash of guilt upsetting her happy mood. “I can’t help but feel as though I took him away from them.”

Alex let out a breath and shook his head. “Years ago, when Violetta died and I was incapable of taking care of James myself or making any decisions about him, they stepped in like guardian angels to care for him. But they did so with the understanding that I might want him back someday.”

He paused. Marigold studied the firm lines of his jaw and his frown for a moment before he went on.

“I think they knew what I didn’t back then. James is my son. He’s a part of my heart. In the end, I can’t live without him. I believe Arthur and Clara knew they were temporary custodians.”

“We need to be sure to thank them a thousand times over,” Marigold said. “And to invite them and their family to the house whenever possible so that they can continue to be a part of James’s life.”

“Yes,” Alex said, glancing to her with a fond smile. For a moment, Marigold thought he would stop and kiss her. In fact, she wanted him to stop and kiss her. Her insides fluttered at the thought. There had been far too few kisses during her recovery, as though he were afraid she’d break if he touched her. At first, she’d been grateful for his restraint. Lately, however, she’d been growing impatient with it. But still, he walked on.

She drew in a deep breath, glancing around at the cheery countryside. A small cottage was set back from the river a hundred or so yards ahead of them, adding to the quaint, peaceful feel of the scene.

“All the turmoil in London seems so far away on an afternoon like this,” she sighed, swaying closer to Alex. “I could almost forget we have any troubles at all.”

“We don’t have any troubles,” he insisted, a sly sparkle in his eyes. “Not now. We couldn’t possibly.”

Marigold laughed. “I suppose Turpin and this war he’s started with you can give us this one afternoon to be with each other.”

“He damn well better,” Alex replied with exaggerated irritation.

Marigold laughed harder. It didn’t seem possible that just over six weeks after her world was turned upside down by the crash that she could glow with such contentment as she enjoyed something as simple as a walk with her husband. She still wasn’t entirely certain where things stood with Alex, but every new day that dawned with both of them smiling and at peace with each other and their own decisions, every simple conversation they had over a meal, every time they played together with James or discussed plans for his future, made her feel closer to him in ways that truly mattered.

“I was hoping Ruby’s friend would be a bit freer with information about London.” Alex’s frown deepened as they walked on. “To tell you the truth, I’ve been uneasy at the lack of news about Turpin’s actions.”

Marigold shrugged. “Perhaps he’s as tired of it all as anyone else and has chosen to ignore the rumors instead of feeding into them.”

Alex rolled his shoulders, clearly uneasy. “Perhaps.”

Eager to get his mind off of Turpin or anything to do with him, Marigold went on with, “I’m more concerned that Miss Goode is shirking her duties at Mr. Turnbridge’s school by visiting with friends in the middle of the day.”

“Yes, I’ll have to have a word with Ruby about that,” Alex sighed. “I know she’s been through a horrific ordeal, but Mrs. Musgrave is about ready to have my hide for being so lenient with her.” His smile returned in the form of a guilty grin. “She lectured me about morale and fairness among the servants the other day.”

Marigold giggled. “Mrs. Musgrave should know that it’s not her place to scold you.” She paused before adding, “I’m the only one who has the privilege of scolding you.”

“What do you have to scold me about?” Alex asked, his expression brightening.

Marigold stopped and faced him. “It’s been weeks since the accident, since I was an invalid.” Heat and mischief coursed through her, and she glanced up at him with a coquettish look. “You haven’t kissed me nearly enough these past few weeks.”

His fond, indulgent smile took on a more wolfish glint. “Well then, my darling, I’ll have to do something about that.”

He slid his arms around her, pulling her close and slanting his mouth over hers. His hands spread across her back as she slipped her arms around his waist under the folds of his jacket. The feeling of his mouth teasing and testing hers was divine. He ventured further, brushing his tongue along her bottom lip, then exploring deeper.

It was a different kiss from the mad, passionate ones that had left her so dizzy in the early days of their marriage. Then, she had felt as though she were caught up in a hurricane of passion. Her body had ached and tingled, desperate for his touch. Now, the fire was just as intense, but it burned deeper, slower. The need that spread through her consumed her from head to toe instead of merely flaring in her most intimate places. All the same, she longed to feel his skin against hers, to be consumed and invaded by him.

He leaned back to take a breath, studying her as he did. He wanted her. That much was clear. But along with the need in his eyes was a question. She answered it the best way she could, by lifting to her toes and kissing him with as much energy as he had kissed her.

His body relaxed against hers as he threw everything he had into kissing her, as if he were finally letting a heavy burden go. One of his hands dropped to her hip, caressing her backside as intimately as he could with the slight bustle of her day gown. It didn’t matter that clothing got in the way, his intention was clear. It’d been so long since Marigold felt the full force of his desire that she didn’t know whether to weep or to moan.

And then he broke away and took her hand. “I’ve just realized something,” he said, his words thick with desire.

“What?” Marigold asked, breathless.

He set off down the river path at a pace so fast Marigold had to jog to keep up with him. “I just realized that cottage belongs to me.”

Marigold blinked in confusion, skipping along at his side. Only when they approached the beautiful little cottage looking out over the river did she realize what he meant. “This is yours?”

He sent her a quick look, one that hinted there was a much larger, perhaps painful story behind things, but only said, “Yes, it is.”

He let go of her hand as they ventured off the main path and onto an overgrown footpath that wound through a neglected garden to the cottage’s front door. It was locked, but within moments, Alex had uncovered a key from a pile of stones near the door. He fit it in the lock, turned it, then let them in.

The cottage was clearly vacant. But at the same time, it hadn’t fallen into complete decay. The front room contained a worn and faded sofa, a table and chairs, and a cold fireplace. A layer of dust covered everything, but someone had obviously cared for the place at some point. Alex shut the front door behind them, then took her hand and led her through to a small bedroom.

A shiver passed through her, swirling down to the parts of her that felt neglected. A fair-sized bed was tucked into the corner of the room. Its coverlet and pillows looked a bit dusty, but in good condition. The rest of the bedroom furniture had a thin film of dust on it, but she barely had time to look at any of it before Alex swept her into his arms again.

His kiss was far more powerful this time. The energy that coursed through him as he explored her lips and mouth was captivating. It occurred to Marigold that he had missed making love to her as much as she’d missed it, perhaps more so. Already, she could feel heat radiating from him, and the thick firmness of his staff pressed against her hip.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered, breaking away from her lips to kiss her cheek and her jaw. His hands moved restlessly along her back, as if searching for the fastenings of her bodice.

“I’ve missed you too,” she sighed in reply, boldly undoing the buttons of his jacket and waistcoat to unfasten his shirt. She glanced up at him. “You didn’t have to wait so long, you know.”

His hands circled down to her waist as he leaned back a bit. “I wanted to be sure you were ready,” he said. “I didn’t know…that is, I wasn’t sure if you felt…whole enough.” His brow creased in concern.

She laid her palms flat against his chest with just the cotton of his shirt separating her from his skin. “I will only feel whole with you inside of me,” she whispered.

His breath rushed out in a triumphant growl, and he surged forward to kiss her once more. His hands moved to the buttons running down the front of her bodice, and with swift, not entirely graceful movements, he popped each one free.

Undressing with Alex in the cottage bedroom, the hint of naughtiness that went along with their actions swirling through her, was irresistible. They were clumsy with each other’s clothes, more interested in getting them off than in folding anything or being tidy at all. Each piece that came off was tossed aside, puffing up dust where it landed. At last, as Marigold sat on the end of the bed to undo the laces of her boots, Alex stripped off his drawers and pulled back the bedcovers.

It was the most glorious thing in the world to slide between the sheets with him, their bodies fitting together perfectly.

“I love the feel of your body touching mine,” Marigold sighed. She was sure she sounded like a ninny, but she couldn’t help it. She arched her hips into him, reveling in the hot spear of his erection between them.

He jerked his hips in imitation of what she was so hungry for, sighing loudly at whatever sensations the friction caused in him. “I love everything about you,” he said before rolling her to her back and dipping down to kiss her.

The pleasure of his kiss combined with his hand cupping her breast was nothing to the swelling of affection in her heart. If he loved everything about her, perhaps he loved her as well. Just the thought of Alex loving her sent prickles of pleasure across her skin, heightening every sensation his body caused. Especially when his hand brushed its way down her abdomen and his fingers delved into the curls between her legs. She gasped at the shock of pleasure as he stroked her.

“I want to spend my whole afternoon making you come,” he rumbled, nibbling on her earlobe. “My whole life.”

She couldn’t think of a reply—she couldn’t think at all—so she sighed and arched into his touch.

He drew in a breath at her eagerness. “Do you like this?” he asked, reaching to circle her wet opening, then to slowly thrust a finger inside of her.

A brief moment of panic hit her. After everything her body had been through, she wasn’t sure how intimacy would feel. What if everything had changed down there and the sort of pain she’d felt their first time returned?

He must have sensed her hesitation, because his touch slowed and grew more tender. “Are you certain you’re ready?” he asked.

Her lips twitched, and for a moment she worried she’d let panic get the best of her. But with a quick breath, she forced herself to be as honest with him as possible. “I’m worried. I don’t know if it will feel the same.”

He nodded, kissing her lips lightly. “We’ll take things slow until we know for sure.” Even as he spoke, he continued to stroke her lightly, moving his finger in and out of her. “How does this feel?”

“Good,” she sighed, relaxing and raising one arm to brush his side.

“And how about this?” He added a second finger to his ministrations, stretching her just a bit more.

“Lovely,” she answered, closing her eyes.

“And this?” He shifted to stroke her clitoris again.

She responded with a rush of breath that turned into a moan. She hadn’t realized how much she’d craved this intimacy between them until she had it back. It was glorious, and she let herself go to the pleasure of it as Alex patiently stroked her until she was quivering on the edge of release.

“Come for me,” he whispered, his voice tense with desire. “Let me feel you come.”

Her breath came in shorter and shorter gasps until the coil of pleasure building inside of her burst into waves of throbbing pleasure. It was so good and so pure, and came as such a relief that she could still feel pleasure as she once had, especially when Alex slipped his fingers back inside of her. She squeezed around them, wanting more, wanting all of him.

He must have heard her heart’s cry. He shifted atop her once more, nudging her legs apart as he guided himself to her still tender and throbbing entrance. With the gentlest movement possible, he pressed inside of her. It felt so good to take him in, to feel him stretch and invade her, that she sighed aloud.

He paused. “It’s not too much, is it?”

She could have laughed. “It’s wonderful,” she mewled instead. “More.”

A deep, hungry sound rumbled up from his chest as he pushed deeper. He circled a hand around her backside, squeezing and lifting her to meet a second, gentle thrust.

It felt different to join with him in slow, careful strokes. She wasn’t sure how, but it went far beyond her body’s reaction to being filled by him. His caution quickly drove her mad, and she bore down on him, urging him to move faster, to go deeper. He responded with a gentle increase in speed and intensity, still driving her to distraction. His control was astounding and far beyond her own.

“More,” she whispered when her body reached the point where it was ready to shatter with pleasure once more.

He seemed to have reached the limit of his patience as well, and once given permission, his thrusts became less controlled, more urgent. Within minutes, they were rocking together in a powerful rhythm, bodies entwined and sweating, their sounds of pleasure forming the sweetest song Marigold could imagine. She wanted him to enjoy himself to the fullest and moved and sighed with his thrusts to encourage him. At the same time, she felt as though he were waiting for her to climax yet again.

That feeling of working together with him for both of their pleasure was what pushed her over the edge, sending her into another tremor of release, harder and more potent this time. He tensed as she did, and within moments, his love sounds pitched to cries of release. His body was hot and heavy against hers as he spilled his seed into her, and even though part of her mourned that nothing would come of it, the communion between them was magical. Every part of her belonged to him, and him to her.

The deep, heated glow was so overpowering, that as they both floated down from climax, Marigold could hardly move. She didn’t want to break away from Alex, didn’t want him to disengage himself from her. When he rolled to the side, she clung to him, moving with him, reveling in the feeling of him still inside of her. She wanted to be with him that way forever.