Annabelle laughed shakily at his rough confession, while a hot rush of joy spilled through her. “But I want all your love,” she said. As Simon drew his head back to look at her, his expression knocked the breath from her lungs. It took her several seconds to recover. “All your heart and mind,” she continued with a crooked smile, and lowered her voice provocatively. “All your body, too.”

Simon trembled and stared at her radiant face as if he would never be able to tear his gaze away. “That’s reassuring. Since you seemed more than eager to saw off my leg with a pocketknife yesterday.”

Annabelle’s mouth quirked, and she stroked her fingertips over his hairy chest, playing with the glinting dark strands. “My intention was to preserve the largest possible portion of you, and get you out of that place.”

“At that point I might have let you, had I thought it would work.” Simon caught her hand in his, and pressed his cheek against her abraded palm. “You’re a strong woman, Annabelle. Stronger than I would have believed.”

“No, it’s my love for you that is strong.” Sliding him a glance of sparkling mischief from beneath her lashes, Annabelle murmured, “I wouldn’t be able to saw off just anyone’s leg, you know.”

“If you ever risk your life again, for any reason, I’m going to strangle you. Come here.” Gripping his hand behind her head, Simon pulled her forward. When their noses were nearly touching, he took a deep breath, and said, “I love you, dammit.”

She brushed her lips teasingly against his. “How much?”

He made a slight sound, as if the soft kiss had affected him intensely. “Without limit. Beyond forever.”

“I love you more,” Annabelle said, and brought her mouth to his. She felt a surge of exquisite pleasure, accompanied by the elusive sense of completeness, of perfect fulfillment, that they had never quite reached before. She was floating in warmth, as if her soul was bathed in light. Drawing back, she saw from the stunned brilliance in Simon’s gaze that he had felt it, too.

There was a new, wondering note in his voice as he said, “Kiss me again.”

“No, I’ll hurt you. I’m leaning on your leg.”

“That’s not my leg,” came his roguish reply, making her laugh.

“You perverse man.”

“You’re so beautiful,” Simon whispered. “Inside and out. Annabelle, my wife, my sweet love…kiss me again. And don’t stop until I tell you to.”

“Yes, Simon,” she murmured, and cheerfully obeyed.

Epilogue

“…No, that’s not the best part,” Annabelle said animatedly, waving a handful of pages in a gesture for the Bowmans to be quiet. The three women lounged in Annabelle’s suite at the Rutledge, dangling their stockinged feet as they sipped glasses of sweet wine. “Let me read on…‘As we stopped in the Loire Valley to view a sixteenth-century chateau that is undergoing restoration, Miss Hunt made the acquaintance of an unmarried English gentleman, Mr. David Keir, who is accompanying his two younger cousins on their Grand Tour. Apparently he is an art historian, engaged in writing a scholarly work on something-or-other, and he and Miss Hunt found much to discuss. According to the mothers—from now on that is how I shall refer to Mama and Mrs. Hunt, as they are always in each other’s company and appear to have divided one brain between themselves—’ “

“Good God,” Lillian exclaimed with a laugh, “does your brother have to write in such long sentences?”

“Hush!” Daisy admonished. “Jeremy was about to say what the mothers think of Mr. Keir! Go on, Annabelle.”

“They are of the unified opinion that Mr. Keir is a prepossessing and well-favored gentleman” Annabelle read.

“Does that mean handsome?” Daisy asked.

Annabelle grinned. “Decidedly. And Jeremy goes on to say that Mr. Keir has asked permission to write to Meredith, and he intends to call on her when she returns to London!”

“How lovely!” Daisy exclaimed, extending her glass to Lillian. “Pour me another, dear—I want to drink to Meredith’s future happiness.”

They all drank obligingly, and Annabelle set the letter aside with a pleased sigh. “I wish I could tell Evie.”

“I miss Evie,” Lillian said with a surprising wistfulness. “Perhaps soon her jailers—pardon, her family— will allow us to visit.”

“I have an idea,” Daisy commented. “When father comes from New York next month, we’ll have to go with him for another visit to Stony Cross. Naturally, Annabelle and Mr. Hunt will be invited, because of their friendship with Lord Westcliff. Perhaps we can ask that Evie and her aunt be included, too. Then we can have an official wallflower meeting—not to mention another Rounders game.”

Annabelle groaned theatrically, downing her wine in a large gulp. “God help me.” Placing her glass on a nearby table, she fished in her pocket for a tiny paper packet with an object folded inside. “That reminds me—Daisy, will you do a favor for me?”

“Of course,” the girl replied promptly and opened the paper. Her face wrinkled in curiosity as she saw a needlelike piece of metal. “What in heaven’s name is this?”

“I pulled that from Lord Westcliff’s shoulder on the day of the foundry fire.” She grinned at their appalled expressions as they saw the long iron shard. “If you wouldn’t mind, take it with you to Stony Cross and toss it into the wishing well.”