Without hesitation, they wheeled their mounts around as one and galloped down the rise toward the manor. Rafe could see the three women waiting on the front lawn, in spite of the cold. Then his gaze homed in on the one he loved more than life itself.

Her smile was bright, her hand raised in greeting.

His horse had barely slowed when he dismounted, took her into his arms, and kissed her deeply as she wound herself securely around him. He might have been self-conscious if he hadn’t known his brothers were greeting their wives in the same manner. No, he thought. He wouldn’t have given a damn what they were doing. He was too glad for her welcome, yearned too much for her touch.

Sweeping her up into his arms, he began striding toward the manor.

She laughed. “What are you doing?”

“We have a bit of time before dinner. Want you to myself for a while.”

She settled her head against his shoulder. “I love you, Lord Rafe Easton.”

“Not as much as I love you, Lady Eve.”

When she began nibbling on his ear, he laughed. Such a wicked woman. He intended to make love to her before dinner, then after. He would never have enough of her.

For a moment in his mind, all the globes he’d collected over the years spun. More than a hundred, spinning, spinning. He’d been searching for someplace better than where he was.

He’d finally found it, the best place of all—wrapped tightly in Eve’s arms.