him with her thoughts, but no, when she raised her lashes, he was still standing there. So tall and proud and astonishingly handsome that her anguished heart stuttered.
Her eyes tracked over his fading injuries. The wound at his temple was still a motley of colors, though it was fading. He looked fit and healthy. Why was he here? Why had he come? She opened her mouth to ask but he beat her to it.
“Why, Master Iz. You’re just the person I was looking for.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Pleasure in the bedchamber isn’t the answer to a good marriage, but it is the answer to a mutually satisfying one.
– Lady Darcy
Christ, his wife had never looked more beautiful. Dressed in the finest of gowns or a pair of worn breeches or nothing at all, she was easily the most stunning thing Winter had ever seen. And right now, she glowed, limned in the fading light of the sunset, like the earthly angel she was. He wanted to drop to his knees and revere her as she deserved. Beg her forgiveness for being such a stubborn jackass. Lay himself bare before her and take whatever she chose to give.
“What are you doing here?” Isobel stammered, pulling the cap from her head, her cheeks going an endearing shade of pink.
“I told you,” he said with a pointed stare to her breeches. “Looking for Iz.”
Something like fire flickered in her pale eyes for a scant second, her chin lifting. “You found me. What do you want?”
“I’d like him to get an urgent message to his mistress. That I, Winter Ridley Valiant Vance, would like to—”
“Wait, Valiant is your middle name?” she interrupted.
He gave a shrug. “No, but I thought it would win me some points of partiality.”
“That’s not how middle names work,” she said in a prim voice, but he could see that she was fighting a smile.
“Nicknames, then?”
“We shall see, though vainglorious comes to mind as a more suitable choice,” she said and waved an arm. “Carry on, Lord Valiant. Iz has duties to attend to.”
Winter bit back his own smile. God, he wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless, but he knew that he had to make amends for the hurt he’d caused. Words had the power to build and demolish, and he needed to use his to fix what he’d so stupidly destroyed.
“I would like to beg Lady Roth’s forgiveness for being an utter ass, and since you are someone she trusts implicitly, what can I do to win back her love?”
Isobel blinked, her breath exhaling in a rush. “You wish to win her love?”
“Yes.” He gave a wry smile. “Though I expect I look a fright at the moment with my unsightly injuries. She might find me too hideous to look upon.”
“That must have been quite a blow to your ego,” she replied. “And to your many toad-eaters.”
He shot her a wounded look. “There’s only one person’s opinion that matters to me, and that is my wife’s. Between you and me, she’s my favorite toadie. I’ve missed her terribly.”
“Have you?” she whispered.
“Inconsolably.”
Her slender throat worked, her teeth sinking into that lower lip. “Do you love her then?”
Winter stared at the woman he adored more than life itself, drinking in the beautiful lines of her face—those piercing wintry eyes, the barely there golden freckles spattered across that pert nose, her full, pink lips begging to be kissed.
He thought of her generous heart, her easily given compassion, her loyalty, her fearlessness, and her passion. The way she constantly surprised him, kept him on his toes, made him think, made him feel. She was his light, his life, his everything.
“With all my wasted heart,” he replied softly.
“Good,” she said, her voice wobbling and a tear leaking from the corner of her eye. “I shall pass on the message. Though I expect that she will be amenable to your sentiments, but only after copious amounts of groveling.”
“Naturally.” Heart swelling behind his ribs, Winter laughed and closed the distance between them. “May I kiss you now, Lady Roth?”
“Please.”
She met him halfway, her mouth fusing with his, her body lining up in exquisite symmetry, her soft to his hard, and Winter felt as though he’d come home. Her delicious lips parted and she licked at him eagerly, demanding entry. He gave it, kissing her back with helpless hunger, his tongue tasting hers and wanting more.
“God, I’ve missed you,” he groaned against her lips. “Why didn’t you stay?”
“You told me to leave,” she said. “Repeatedly.”
“I was