Surprise flits across his face, but there's also a hint of relief in his eyes. "Are you sure?"
"You're my husband." I reach out and touch his arm, lingering for a little longer than necessary.
"That doesn't mean I wish for you to do something you don't want to," he says earnestly, only increasing my hope that he'll say yes and join me inside. After experiencing him undoing the buttons of my dress earlier, it'll be disappointing to have a maid do it for me.
"And if it's what I desire?" I look up and meet his gaze, hoping he can tell how sincere I'm being.
"Then that would be different," he murmurs, his gaze falling to my lips.
"Come inside," I say, stepping back into my room and leaving it open for him to follow.
For a moment, I worry that he's not going to accept my offer and I'm going to spend the rest of the evening nursing my wounded pride. But that isn't the case. Philip steps inside and closes the door, leaving us blissfully alone where no one is going to disturb us, not even a stray duck.
"I feel like we didn't get to finish our conversation in the lake," I say slowly.
"You wish for me to tell you that I love you again?" He smiles, but I can see a slight tentativeness in his eyes, as if he's unsure where our current conversation is heading.
"I do, but that is not what I meant." I step closer, not wanting there to be much distance between us.
I place a hand on his chest.
"What did you mean?" His voice rumbles through him, and I can feel the tension building in the air.
"That I love you too," I whisper, realising just how true the words are the moment they leave me. "I don't just want our marriage to work, I want you."
He lets out a relieved breath. "You have me," he promises.
"Then you'll stay tonight?"
"I'll stay every night you'll have me."
"The former rake in you may regret saying that."
"Never," he promises, leaning in.
My breathing hitches and my eyes flutter closed, knowing what's to come, but realising that it's going to be different from every other time we've kissed. And that this time, we don't have to worry aboutany of the consequences of ruining me. There's no damage the two of us can do.
His lips press against mine. I lean into him, pressing myself against him and enjoying the feel of him by me. He deepens the kiss, allowing every shred of emotion to seep into it. I return it in kind, hoping that it shows him just how serious I am about my words, and about our marriage.
We break apart, both of us caught in a torrent of emotions. He places a hand over mine, and I can feel the warmth of his palm even through my gloves.
"I often find myself thinking that these are in the way," he murmurs.
"My gloves?"
He nods.
"I don't think I need them anymore tonight," I say, pulling my hand away and offering it to him.
Something indescribable fills his eyes as his fingers find the end of my glove. He slowly pulls it down my arm, his fingers trailing over my bare skin and sending tingles along my arm.
I never thought something so simple could feel so intimate.
He finishes pulling it off and drapes it over the sideboard. I offer him my other arm, and he repeats the motion.
"I can't tell you how many times I've thought of doing that," he murmurs.
"About as many as I've had," I respond.