don’t want that either.”
“What do you want, Tabetha?” He had to know. Because if he didn’t let her walk away from him today, he never would.
“I want to be Mrs. Spencer.” She stared up at him, cradling his face with her hands. “Or Mrs. Chester. Whichever means I get to spend my life as your wife.”
Stone couldn’t resist her grin.
“God, I missed you last night.” His mouth claimed hers and this time, he settled between her thighs. A combination of love and joy and lust wrapped around him, and nothing but the two of them mattered.
“I missed you too,” she whispered, her lips glistening from his kiss. Desperately in need of another taste, Stone lowered his mouth—
“I could use a hand over here,” Westerley interrupted. “Judging by the lack of blood, I’m assuming she wasn’t hit. Well done, by the way, Tabetha. Where’d you learn to do that?”
“A friend taught me,” Tabetha answered, smiling into Stone’s eyes.
“Would you be so kind as to ask that ‘friend’ to get his arse over here? The two of you will have plenty of time to discuss… er… boxing lessons later.”
“I suppose he has a point.” But Stone hadn’t moved and neither had Tabetha… his wife.
Stone pushed up on his hands and flicked his gaze across the meadow.
The certificate was well and gone, which could possibly pose a few difficulties.
He grimaced. They needed to restrain Culpepper’s men. And Culpepper himself was going to require dealing with as soon as he regained consciousness.
And although he relished the idea of meting out some punishment, all he really wanted to do was hold her.
My wife.
Perhaps do more than hold her.
Realizing Westerley wouldn’t appreciate Stone’s present condition, Stone hovered, not allowing himself to touch her, taking a moment to focus on something else—anything but Tabetha—or risk embarrassing all three of them.
A rushing brook… but no, that only reminded himself of Tabetha’s bosom. Sleeping on the ground… again, no. He closed his eyes and pictured a naked four-legged creature with devilish-looking eyes.
Archimedes.
Quite effective.
He opened his eyes to stare into her coffee-colored ones, immediately forgetting Culpepper and Westerley and that damned certificate that for all he knew, by now, might be halfway to the North Sea.
“I love you.” So damn much. He couldn’t contain the words.
“As Stone Spencer?”
He knew what she needed. “Yes.”
“Does this mean you’re going to have to marry me again?”
“At St. George’s on Hanover Square.” How many times had he overheard her discussing her dream wedding with Lady Felicity? “Guests overflowing outside. Your mother and sister in the front row. My parents across the aisle. Your brother can give you away properly and neither of us will be bosky this time.”
“You’ll need a valet to deck you out in your wedding finery.” Her fingertip traced his mouth.
“I think Creighton might be able to handle that.” He chuckled. And then, “I’ll wear whatever you want me to.” He’d give her anything.
But then she grew serious. “I don’t need it, you know. I only need you.” Tears shone in those eyes he would never tire of staring into. “I love you.”
“Could you plan this wedding another time?” Westerley complained.
Stone’s throat thickened with emotion, and he didn’t even attempt to answer her brother this time.
She loved him.
She wanted him and only him.
Stunned at his good fortune, he sat back and helped her off the ground.
“I’m a mess,” she quipped, studying her bare feet and torn dressing gown.
“You are.” Stone brushed the dirt off her skirt. “But you’re my mess.”
Chapter 29
Pesky Details
Having secured the duke and his men with the ropes from inside one of Culpepper’s carriages, preventing any chance of their escape, Stone and Westerley sat on the edge of the road reclining against a large oak, waiting for Chase and their wives’ entourage to catch up to them.
Completely done in, Tabetha lay on a blanket, her head resting on Stone’s lap, sleeping surprisingly peacefully. They’d offered to tie the men to a tree so she and her maid could sleep in the carriage, but she’d declared she never wanted to set foot in that foul-smelling vehicle again.
“I suppose one of us could ride back to meet up with Chase and the ladies,” Stone suggested. “Seeing as things are well under control here.”
“I suppose one of us could,” Westerley responded without enthusiasm. “I, for one, am content to wait here with my sister.”
Stone shifted his gaze to his old friend. “Who also happens to be my wife,” he reminded him.
Westerley bent his knees up, dangling his hands between them thoughtfully.