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“Mrs. Llwyd,” he murmured.
“Who says I’m taking your name?”
His brow rose. “Do you need me to spank your ass?”
I gasped. “I thought you were a feminist.”
“I am, but I’ll still spank your ass,” he said, kissing down my stomach. “And I don’t want you keeping your fucking father’s name.”
He had a point.
“Cariad,” he murmured, nipping my inner thigh. “Run away with me, marry me on a Friday morning, take my name. Be my wife, love me until I die.”
“Oh, if that’s all you want, then sure,” I said.
“That’s all I want.”
“Then it’s yours,” I murmured, closing my eyes.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
CLARA
I pulled the bathroom door shut behind me and paused before the mirror. Fingers twisting together. My stomach fluttered as I met my eyes in the mirror.
Merrick Llwyd was my husband.
It was Friday night. We’d gone to the courthouse in Concord, not far from where we’d slept together for the first time. We’d signed papers, shared a kiss, and walked back out into the sunlight.
Married.
Now, the Welsh King lay on the other side of the door waiting for his wife.
My pulse hadn’t let up pounding since I’d opened my eyes that morning. I bit my lip, forgetting all about that spot inside my mouth. This wasn’t that kind of nerves.
This was the good kind, the sweet anticipation kind that knew whatever happened, it would be alright because he was mine.
I slid my rings off and laid them by the sink before getting in the shower. The warm water relaxed my muscles. When I got out, there was a glass of white wine on the sink. Warmth blossomed in my chest and lower belly. It felt so good to be thought of, to be cared for.
I sipped the wine, taking my time, as I dried my hair and moisturized my skin until it was pure silk. The white lace lingerie set slid over my hips and breasts and settled against my skin. Fitting me to perfection.
He liked the lipstick I wore so I didn’t change it tonight. I knew the berry pink made his pulse move faster when I left it on his neck, on the inside of his wrists.
My wine was empty by the time I put my wedding rings back on. I’d never felt so relaxed.
So at peace.
So free.
He was naked when I stepped out of the bathroom. I saw the rise of his cock between his legs, hidden from me by the sheet. His head cocked and his mouth parted, showing a sliver of his lower teeth.
He was transfixed.
“Come here, cariad,” he murmured.
I hesitated, lifting the empty glass. “Thank you for the wine, it was lovely.”
“It’s a vintage,” he said, rising. “I was saving it for a special occasion.”
