“You know what I think we should do,” she said, and his expression went dark.
“That is not an option.”
“What’s not an option?” Sam asked from his seat on the settee. He had been so understanding about this, considering his wedding day had literally gone up in smoke. But she had warned him that being with her could potentially suck him into this mess. And so it had. She shuddered to think what would have happened if the Gingerbread Man had waited until the guests were leaving to sink the plunger. She was sure Sam had considered the same possibilities.
“She wants us to try to draw him out so we can catch him,” Chris said.
“Draw him out how?”
“I assume by using one of us as bait.”
Sam turned to look at her. “You’re not serious.”
“Maybe I trust our security team to do their job. Besides, no one else has had a better idea. How long are we supposed to go on like this? Living like prisoners, in fear of what he’ll do next. He’s obviously escalating the violence.”
“Obviously,” Chris snapped. He rarely lost his cool, so Anne knew that he was much more upset about this than he was letting on. “And now we know what he’s capable of. He’s not just some twisted stalker. He made a bomb. He’s more dangerous than any of us anticipated.”
“Okay,” she acknowledged. “Maybe luring him out wouldn’t be such a hot idea after all.”
“I think that, in light of what happened, it would be best if you two canceled your honeymoon.”
“What!” she screeched, indignation roiling up in her like a volcano. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m very serious.”
“But you’re the one who suggested we go there, because it would be safe.”
She and Sam had been invited by Chris’s brother-in-law, King Phillip of Morgan Isle—the sister to Thomas Isle—to use their family hunting lodge. In fact, they should have been on a boat to the other island hours ago. If things had gone as planned, they would already be celebrating their honeymoon.
“I thought it would be the safest place for you, but—”
“Louisa went to Cabo for her honeymoon and no one gave her a hard time,” Anne reminded him.
“Circumstances have changed.”
“Chris, he ruined my wedding. I refuse to let him ruin my honeymoon, too. We’ll have plenty of security there. We’ll be fine.”
He still looked hesitant.
“The location was kept so hush-hush that by the time he figures out where we are, and comes up with his next diabolical plan, we’ll be back to the castle.”
“All right,” he finally agreed. “As long as you promise not to take any unnecessary risks.”
“Of course.” Did he think that she was a complete dolt? She wanted the man caught and brought to justice, but not so badly that she would endanger the life of her child.
Chris looked at Sam, who nodded and said, “We won’t.”
Is that how it would be now? Her family looking to her husband to keep her in line?
She realized she was clenching her fists and forced herself to relax. Getting this worked up wasn’t good for her or the baby. What she needed was an outlet for all this tension and stress. And she didn’t have to look far to find one.
She gazed over at Sam. Her husband. He was still wearing his wedding clothes but he’d shed the jacket and loosened his tie. The hair that had been combed back from his face earlier now fell forward in soft curls across his forehead. He looked too adorable for words and she couldn’t wait to put her hands all over him.
Her wedding day may have been decimated, but they still had their wedding night. After four months of missing his touch, and a torturous week of waiting for this very night, she was determined to make it a memorable one.
“I’m exhausted,” she announced, forcing a yawn for added effect, when in reality she was so awake she was practically buzzing. “Are you ready for bed, Sam?”
He nodded and rose from the settee.
“I’ll arrange to have the boat ready for your trip to Morgan Isle at 10:00 a.m.,” Chris told her.
“Thank you,” she said, taking Sam’s hand, leading him out of the study and up the stairs to her room. Make that their room. Most of Sam’s clothes and toiletries had been moved in earlier that morning, which had necessitated her clearing a place in her closet for him. Sharing her space again would require some getting used to. Louisa and Anne had shared a bedroom until they were thirteen and Anne could no longer stand the frilly pink bedcovers and curtains, the childish furnishings. Furnishings Louisa had still used until a few months ago.
What Anne really hoped was that when this Gingerbread Man business was behind them, she and Sam could spend time at his grandmother’s cottage. Away from her family and the confines of her title. A place where she could just be herself. A place where, unlike the castle, portraits of her relatives didn’t stare accusingly from every hallway. And where she could make herself a cup of tea without feeling like an intruder in the kitchen. Where she could make love to her husband and not worry that someone on the opposite side of the wall would hear her.
Privacy. That was what she wanted. A place of her own.
“I need to apologize,” Sam said.
She looked over at him. “For what?”
“Until today, I really didn’t take this Gingerbread Man thing very seriously. It seemed more an annoyance than a serious threat. But when that car exploded, I swear I saw my life flash before my eyes.”
She squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”
He looked at her and smiled. “I’m not. I just want you to be safe.”
Which he had proven. The first minute or so after the blast was a bit of a blur, but the one thing she did remember with distinct clarity was the way he had used his own body as a shield to protect her. She could say with much certainty that in a similar situation, the men who had come before him would have ignored her entirely and saved their own asses.
And now it seemed only fair to reward him for his chivalry. Right?
They reached her room—their room—and the instant they were inside with the door closed, she launched herself at him. He let out a startled “Oof!” as she threw her arms around his neck and crushed her lips to his. But it didn’t take him long to recover from his surprise, before his arms went around her and he leaned in, took control of the kiss. In that single joining of their mouths, the tangling of their tongues, they seemed to unleash months of pent-up sexual frustration. She curled her fingers through his hair and sucked on his tongue, wishing she could crawl inside his skin, anything to be closer to him.
When they came up for air they were both breathing hard and he was wearing a slightly confused expression. “I thought you were exhausted.”
“What was I supposed to say? Let’s go upstairs so you can shag me silly?”
A slow smile curled his lips. “Is that what I get to do?”
“If you want to,” she said, already knowing by the look in his eyes the answer was yes. She pulled the pins from her hair, shaking it loose and letting it spill down over her shoulders. His eyes raked over her and she could swear she actually felt his gaze caressing her skin.
“Unless you’d rather just go to sleep,” she teased.
To answer her,