To Catch an Heiress

“Oh? Why?”

Blake offered her his most earnest expression. “Well, as you know, there are certain aspects of marriage that require privacy.”

“I see,” she said gravely.

“I might have to kiss you once or twice on the way back.”

“Only twice?”

“Possibly three times.”

She pretended to think about that. “I don't think three times will be nearly enough.”

“Four?”

She laughed, shook her head, and ran down the beach.

“Five?” he offered, his long strides easily keeping up with her. “Six. I can promise six, and I'll try for seven…”

“Eight!” she yelled. “But only if you catch me.”

He broke into a run and tackled her to the ground. “Caught you!”

She swallowed, and her eyes filled with sentimental tears. “Yes, you did. It's rather funny, actually.”

Blake touched her cheek, smiling down at her with all the love in the world. “What?”

“Oliver set out to catch an heiress, you set out to catch a spy. And in the end…” Her words trailed off, and her voice choked with emotion.

“In the end?”

“In the end, I caught you.”

He kissed her once, lightly. “You certainly did, my love. You certainly did.”