“Well, I’m sure that’s a complete load of—” he grumbled.
“Rupert,” Sigrid admonished.
His jaw worked, as if he were grinding his teeth. Suddenly, he threw up his hands. “Fine. The two of you may marry—assuming Otto will wed Sigrid, that is.”
“He will,” Sigrid chimed with complete certainty.
“Then so be it.” He jabbed a threatening finger toward Nick. “As for you, Lyndhurst, I’ll remember what you said about making my sister happy for the rest of her life. Be warned that I’m going to hold you to that promise.”
Nick pulled Emma closer, love shining like quicksilver in his eyes; Emma’s heart turned over in her chest. “Please do, Your Highness,” he said, “since that’s one promise I shall never have trouble keeping.”
Then, clearly not caring that they were being watched, Nick bent his head and kissed her.
Closing her eyes, Emma kissed him back.
Epilogue
February 1816
Somewhere on the Mediterranean
Emma ran a lazy palm over Nick’s damp, bare chest where they lay together in a wide, soft bed. The sheets were draped in a wild tangle around their naked bodies, three big feather pillows twisted at odd angles beneath their heads. A sultry sea breeze wafted into the cabin through a pair of round, half-opened windows, late-afternoon sunshine bathing the room in a mellow golden haze.
Proceeding with her idle exploration, she paused to circle a fingertip around a flat male nipple she found nestled within a thicket of short, dark curls. She flicked the small bud of flesh with the end of her nail, watching it tauten even more.
Without warning, her hand was smashed flat, Nick’s palm holding it captive. “I thought you wanted to catch your breath for a few minutes,” he drawled without opening his eyes. “But if you’re ready for another round, I can oblige. Especially if you keep that up with those fingers of yours.”
A well-satisfied smile moved over her and she chuckled. “I can keep lots of things up with my fingers. You’ve taught me that over the past few days of our honeymoon, my lord. Or should I more correctly say Your Grace?”
Nick groaned. “Don’t remind me. Learning to be the Earl of Lyndhurst has been difficult enough without having to become some Rosewaldian archduke.”
“Most men would be thrilled to receive such an esteemed elevation in title.”
He opened his eyes and pinned her with a look of affronted pride that she knew well by now. “Most men aren’t granted a title solely because they are marrying a princess. I’m an Englishman, for God’s sake. How can I expect my friends and relatives to start addressing me as Herzog von Wiessenschloss?”
“A simple Duke will do. And, of course, you can always go back to using Lyndhurst when we are in England. Rupert shall never know.”
“But I’ll know,” he grumbled.
“Don’t be cross with Rupert,” she said. “He only wanted to guarantee that you would be accepted as my husband by the Rosewaldian aristocracy and our people.”
“He just wanted to make sure you weren’t marrying a nobody, you mean.”
She took his face in her hands. “You could never be a nobody, even if you had no titles at all. You know such things matter to me—not in the slightest.”
“I know,” he said, mollified, then kissed her palm. “Forgive me. It’s just going to take me some time to learn to deal with your brother. Despite his consent to our marriage, I can tell it is still begrudgingly given.”
“Once we have two or three sons, he’ll realize there is no separating us and he’ll come around.”
“So, it’s going to take two or three children to earn his acceptance, is it?” He slid a hand along her spine in a way that made her quiver. “At least I’ll enjoy the process of conceiving them.”
“As will I,” she said with gentle promise, returning her hands to his chest. “And remember that it was very generous of him to loan us his yacht as a wedding present. Believe me, he likes you more than you think, since this vessel is one of his most prized possessions.”
“He only loaned us this ship so I wouldn’t take you out on my own.” A slow smile moved over his mouth. “By the way, I’m thinking about starting a ship-building business with that captain I mentioned, the one in Bristol. I suppose some may say it smacks of trade, but I want to keep my hand in somehow. Sailing is in my blood, even if I’ve given up daily life on the sea.”
“Then you must proceed with your plans. I never want you to have regrets.”
“I won’t. How could I when I achieved my heart’s desire the day I married you?”