by ERIN BEDFORD
“It’s time.” She grinned and took hold of Asher’s hand. “We can finally go home.”
“Are you sure?” Patrick asked, wrapping his arm around me.
“Yes, I’m sure. I even talked to your father.” Maleria looked at me. “He wants to meet to discuss terms.”
“Ugh.” Asher groaned. “More political games.”
I beamed up at Patrick, the mention of my father making my heart swell.
We’d gotten closer over the last four months. We still haven’t reached that point where we were true husband and wife, but we were getting there. I’d even admitted my feelings for him aloud, which I had been rewarded with a heated kiss that made my toes curl. Each night was a test of my strength because there weren’t enough beds to go around, and it only made sense for us to share. I knew eventually that I would give into him, though he never pushed.
I thought I was waiting for this. For this moment, where I didn’t have the burden of my family’s welfare on my shoulders, and now it had finally happened.
“Are you ready, Clarabelle?” Patrick asked me quietly. I loved the way my name sounded on his lips. It no longer sounded like a name for a cow, but that of someone who was profoundly and irrevocably loved.
Holding him to me tightly, I kissed him and said, “Yes. Let’s go play.”
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