Meg wrinkled her nose. “Well…”
He groaned.
“Don’t worry, we can put bars on that old medieval Lady Chapel no one uses and secure the collection inside. I’ve seen it done.”
“I’m sure you have.”
“Let’s have supper in the family parlor,” George suggested. “I’ll let Lady Beatrice and Lady Marigold know.”
As they dispersed, Dougal stayed where he was for a moment, close to Meg. “You did it,” he said.
She grinned. “Did you doubt me?”
“Not for a moment.”
He kissed her quickly, before she could be distracted by two-hundred-year-old art. She softened against him, and he tilted her head back, kissing her until her head was a whirl of colors and light that had nothing to do with laudanum. When he finally pulled away, it was only to drag more kisses up her throat to nip at her earlobe.
“We foiled a treasure hunter and a murderer on our first full day of being married,” Dougal whispered, smiling. “What do you want to do tomorrow?”