“Maybe,” I agreed. I brought my mouth down and kissed her, amazed at how one touch from her always set me aflame. Even after long days, whenever I came home to her, I always felt alive and energized. I’d worried once we weren’t always on the run and living life on the edge that the passion might fade between us. If anything, stability—and, most importantly, freedom—had ignited it even more. The sentiment I’d had last year had been confirmed: I didn’t need spirit. I just needed Sydney. I slid my hand to the sash in her robe and discovered she’d tied it with some sort of sailor’s knot that only she could undo. “Oh, come on,” I groaned.

“Sorry,” she said, laughing again. “I didn’t even think about it. Honest.”

“I believe you,” I said. I paused to kiss the nape of her neck. “You’re the smartest girl I know. You can’t help knowing everything and being constantly brilliant—and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” I kissed her lips again, but after several moments, she pulled back slightly.

“Hey,” she murmured. “There are people in the house.”

“There are always people in the house,” I reminded her. “That’s why we escaped up here to the castle tower. Escape plan number . . . hell, I don’t know. I lost count. We haven’t had to come up with some dreamy escape plan in a while.”

Sydney trailed her fingers down the side of my face. “That’s because we’re living it, Adrian. This is the only escape plan we need.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, propping myself up on one elbow. I tried to put on a thoughtful, speculative expression. “Because there are things that could be tweaked. Like a bigger house. Or maybe—”

“Adrian,” she interrupted. “Didn’t you just say I’m brilliant and know everything? Then trust me on this.”

“Always,” I said, letting her pull me back down to her. “Always.”