Misjudging my response, he froze. “I ought to go—”

I stared at his mouth, trying to corral my emotions. He should go to his chambers. And I should let him. Our virtues could go to hell in just a few hours, after we were wed.

But instead of agreeing, I reached for the waistband of his trousers, pulling him against me. I didn’t want to wait any longer. I needed him. Suddenly shy at what I was asking, I averted my gaze.

“Stay here with me tonight. Please.”

He tilted my chin up, staring deeply into my eyes, and I knew with utter certainty that he’d give me everything I wanted and more. “Forever, Audrey Rose.”

This time when our kissing began, it was careful and deliberate—yet unrestrained. There were no tethers tying us back. Nothing keeping us from our base instincts. Seeing me naked and vulnerable unleashed a part of Thomas I wasn’t sure he’d known existed. I thought of nothing except the feeling of his fingers and lips. Each place they touched, explored, caressed. Society vanished. Rules vanished. There was no one and nothing except the two of us, completely lost in our own little universe, our bodies uncharted galaxies to explore.

When Thomas drew back and met my gaze, I knew he saw the answer to his unspoken question reflected in my eyes. Without speaking, he lifted me off the velvet bench and laid me on the bed, his body settling comfortably above mine.

Neither of us had done this before—had loved so fiercely or freely—and instead of worrying over details, I gave myself over to my feelings completely.

“I love you, Audrey Rose.”

His hand trailed from my ankle to my calf, leaving goose bumps—and the most glorious tingle in its wake—as he pulled my stocking off. The smoothness of his action felt like it was the most natural act in the world. He repeated the motion with my sore leg, taking extra care to be as gentle as possible, which only made me long for him more. He brought his lips to my scar, showing every piece of me tender affection.

With slightly trembling fingers, I undid the buttons of his shirt, marveling at how beautiful he was both inside and out. His tattoo was completely healed now and was truly a work of art. As if he needed any other ornamentation to refine his already exquisite body.

“How is it you’re so… defined?” I asked, running my hands over his surprisingly hard chest. “Do you take secret sword lessons I ought to know about? This”—I motioned to him—“makes no sense.”

“Truthfully?” Thomas laughed, seeming to release a bit of his own nerves. “I pick up cadavers every day in the laboratory. All that body-hauling business keeps me quite fit and healthy. Plus”—he kissed from my neck down to my collarbone, spending extra care and attention on the area nearest my heart—“I do take fencing lessons, as per my father’s wishes.” At my shocked look, he grinned. “I’ve warned you—expect a lifetime full of surprises, my love.”

A rush went through me at those words. We truly would have an entire lifetime to unravel each mystery the other possessed. I pushed myself up onto my elbows and pressed my lips to his skin, exploring his expanse of chest. His breath caught and I found myself echoing the sound as he pulled the ribbons of my nightgown apart, his attention never leaving my face, constantly searching for any hint of hesitation, any silent plea to stop.

He wouldn’t find it, not even while using his most impressive Cresswell deductions. In a few hours we’d be married, and I was ready to claim him entirely.

In what seemed to be only seconds, we’d both stripped bare. A new sensation of heat began, almost indescribable in its intensity, as Thomas deepened our kiss and slowly, carefully lowered himself. Our bodies came together—and I was wholly cast under the spell of our love.

Heart pounding, skin aflame; each touch and caress was a hundred different feelings vying for my attention at once. Without effort, our bodies knew precisely what to do, how to react, and any hint of discomfort disappeared as we moved together, getting lost in our kisses. I’d imagined being clumsy or stilted as we fumbled through the science of it, petrified my mind would turn to thoughts of anatomy diagrams, taking me from the moment by fretting over mechanics. But I needn’t have worried. I was much too consumed by the sensation of our skin pressed together without restrictions between us. Of the feeling of him. Of us. I gripped the sheets beside me, doing everything in my power to not call out his name.

“Audrey Rose,” he whispered, pausing briefly.

My answer was a kiss, a plea. The careful attention Thomas paid to his deductions was focused entirely on me now—each inhalation, each exhalation. He listened in earnest, reacting and shifting to elicit the same waves of rapture until I was certain I must’ve left my body and become a star shooting across the vast universe.

SIXTEEN

A TANGLE OF LIMBS

AUDREY ROSE’S ROOMS

FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY

5 FEBRUARY 1889

After, we lay in a tangle of limbs and bedsheets, our chests rising and falling in unison. Thomas drew idle circles across my stomach. I closed my eyes, allowing pure contentment to settle over me like a blanket. I couldn’t imagine a more perfect experience. It saddened me to think young noblewomen were sometimes instructed to lie back and “think of England” when consummating their marriages. Love ought to be a mutual delight.

Thomas shifted his focus from my stomach to my hair, now running his fingers through my unbound locks, the motion soothing enough for my lids to suddenly feel too heavy to keep open. I closed my eyes, enjoying each careful stroke. I should love to spend eternity falling asleep and waking to this.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more content.”

Thomas leaned over and kissed the top of my head. “Well, I can think of at least one other time I’ve felt perfectly content. And it may have been when you ravished me in the bathtub. Or that one time in the library.” I swatted at him, drawing a deep chuckle. “Right, that only happened in my dreams. This is by far one of my happiest memories.”

I wrapped my arms around him. “I’m sorry I’ve been so afraid, Thomas.”

“You know, I’m extraordinary when it comes to puzzling things out, but this is a bit of a mystery even for me. Also, it’s not at all what I’d imagined you saying directly after our first physical expression of love.” He played with my hair for a few quiet moments, twirling locks around his fingers as if they were the greatest marvel of the nineteenth century. “What, exactly, have you been scared of? Me? Or my intimidating manhood?”

“Of course not you.” I shook my head, glancing up, not bothering to acknowledge his other, wicked comment. “Falling. I’m—I fear it.”

A smile curved his devilish lips. “I’ve never taken you for the clumsy type, Wadsworth.”

“Don’t be daft.” I nestled closer to him. “You know what I mean.”

“It would be nice to hear, though. For the sake of proving myself correct, of course.”

I sighed, but relented. “It’s… I find it’s much easier to be brave when it comes to trusting my mind. I know what I’m capable of. What I can improve upon. Learning and making mistakes doesn’t terrify me—it… I’m not sure. It fuels me, I suppose. But love? Letting go and falling completely petrifies me. When I’m vulnerable I feel as though my stomach has plummeted through my knees and the world is spinning out of control. Unlike science and mathematics, there are no formulas I can use to create an absolute outcome. Falling is chaos.”

“It scares you even knowing I’m right there beside you?”

“I believe that scares me more. It terrifies me to think of you loving me as much as I love you. What happens when either one of us dies? We work in death nearly every day. I’ve lost so many people I’ve loved—losing you, sometimes if I think about it I’m unable to breathe. If I open myself up to loving you, to falling completely and without hesitation, I fear what may happen. Not from something you or I do, but life. It feels much safer to be insulated from that.”

“Nothing in life comes with a guarantee, Wadsworth.” Thomas took a deep breath. “Outside forces will always be out of your control. One thing you can control is how you choose to live. If you wake up fearful of every bad thing that might happen, you miss out on the good. Death will come for us all one day. Worrying about tomorrow only accomplishes ruining today.”

He rolled onto his side and held my hand against his heart.

“Love is immortal. Death can neither touch nor steal it. Especially when it’s true. Let’s add another promise to our tally,” he said. “Promise me to wake each day and find joy wherever you can, no matter how small it may be. There will always be hard times and trying times and times for sorrow, but we won’t let those days destroy the here and now. Because right now? I’m here.” He kissed the top of my head. “And you’re here.” He pressed his lips to my knuckles. “And the present is more glorious than the future and all of its unknowns.”

“How have you not figured out a formula for love yet?” I teased.

“Have you no faith in my mighty brain? Of course I’ve worked out an equation only for us.” Thomas smiled. “My love for you will be a constant in a sea of unknown variables. We may fight or be cross with each other, but our love will never fade or wilt. Trust in that. Trust in us. Forget the future. Forget worry. The only thing that terrifies me is the possibility of living with regret. I don’t ever want to wake and wonder what life could have been like with you in it. I don’t ever want to regret holding myself back from loving you as fully and openly as possible.”

He searched my eyes and part of me wished to fall into the depth of adoration I saw within his expression and swim in the feeling forever.

“Unless you’ve changed your mind…” He quickly looked down. “I—”

“Thomas, never—” I tilted his chin up until our eyes met and held. “I love you. Now and always.”