“The ceremony was lovely,” Ivy said as she and Sebastian entered their bedroom.
Thaddeus had lent them enough money to purchase a small home close to the club with the understanding—from Sebastian at least, Thaddeus didn’t care—that they would pay the debt over time.
Octavia was fully in charge of Miss Ivy’s and had forbidden them to return until a week following their wedding.
Ivy was chafing at the restriction already, but she was looking forward to spending time with Sebastian without worrying about anyone coming in. Not to mention the thought of spending time with Sebastian in a bed.
Byron and Keats were with Ana Maria, though they were coming to Ivy and Sebastian’s home after their week alone.
“Can I help you with that, my lady bride?” Sebastian asked as Ivy began to tug on her headpiece.
“Please.”
Ivy stood still as he gradually undid all of her clothing, from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. His smile grew increasingly wicked the more naked she got, and she was laughing by the time he reached her stockings.
“Come, wife,” he said, drawing her toward the bed.
She froze, her eyes wide. “A bed? An actual bed? Whatever are we going to do in there?” she said in mock dismay.
He hoisted her over his shoulder and plopped her onto the mattress, making her bounce as she laughed.
And then he crawled toward her as he shed his clothing, his neckcloth sailing over his shoulder, his vest flung on top of the dresser nearby, his boots thumping on the floor.
“We are going to do everything, wife.”
Her brows rose. “Everything?”
“Everything,” he confirmed.
“Oh, good,” she sighed, pulling him down for a kiss.
“I love you,” he murmured before his mouth pressed to hers.
“I love you, too,” she replied, her words muffled.