Wilde in Love(57)

Willa was sprawled on top of him, breathless, her body glistening with sweat, her hair spread across his chest like tangled silk.

“Too tired,” she mumbled.

That made him laugh. Willa was never tired. A new journey, a new island, a new adventure—all of it energized her just as much as it did him.

Alaric could never have imagined a life like this. He had been more than willing to live in England, if that was what Willa wanted. He would have been happy there. He would have helped with his father’s estate, and Lord Wilde would have ceased to write books.

But he was so damned lucky. His arms tightened around Willa. He was in love with his fascinating, gorgeous wife, with his nimble-minded, curious children … with his life.

Wilde in Love, indeed.