Trinket was roused by a sliver of sunshine peeking through the closed curtains. She squinted against the light as she let out a long breath, resenting the morning for interrupting the sort of blissful sleep she'd never known in all her life. But her resentment faded when she looked about the room in which she woke. Larger than her own. Sparsely furnished but for the writing desk and wardrobe tucked away in the corners. Darker, too, the wallpaper a deep green damask to match the quilt beneath which she lay.

Beneath which Booker lay as well.

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she glanced over at the slumbering mad scientist beside her. How sweet and innocent he looked in sleep. The troublesome gleam in those intoxicating eyes hidden away; his lips, so often quirked into a teasing grin, just barely turned up at the corners; his precise and steady fingers, normally fidgeting with pent up excitement, now gently tangled in her hair and resting on her bare waist.

On her bare body.

And his bare body only inches from her own.

She inhaled sharply as her cheeks grew hot. How very strange this all was. To awake in a man's bed. To have spent all night in said man's bed. To have done even more than sleep in that bed. . . .

The heat spread to her ears and neck, and she quickly turned away to stare up at the ceiling, her pulse racing. Alas, her sudden movement apparently woke Booker, as he gave a soft groan.

"Good morning, my dear," he said with an irresistible raspiness to his voice.

Though still not quite over her flustration, Trinket dared to meet his eye and found herself unable to suppress a smile. "Good morning, Mr. Larkin."

"You know," he said, pulling her a little closer while simultaneously inching towards her, "seeing as we're now married, you're no longer my maid. There's no need for formalities."

Leaning forward, he placed a kiss on her lips and grinned.

"And what makes you believe I'm going to relinquish my housekeeping duties?" Trinket asked, arching an eyebrow playfully.

"You think Daphne isn't fully capable of taking over?"

"I think I might lose my mind if I don't keep myself busy around here."

Booker tightened his grip on her and replied, his voice sultry and low, "And who said I wasn't going to keep you plenty busy?"

Again, a rush of heat flooded her body, and her stomach twisted with both delight and a little bit of embarrassment. But before she could even try to swallow her awkwardness, Booker let out a burst of laughter and loosened his hold on her.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "I shouldn't tease you like that."

He offered her an apologetic smile, and it managed to ease some of the tightness in her chest. "I don't mean to be so . . . childish about it," she said. "But I have significantly less experience than you with regard to all of this, so I'm still rather . . . unsure of myself . . ."

His expression turned suddenly serious, his eyes wandering up and down her face anxiously. "How are you, though? I mean, you're not uncomfortable, are you? Or uneasy? Or—"

Laying a hand on his cheek, Trinket cut him off with a deep kiss. His fingers curled in her hair as he inhaled deeply, holding her close to his chest. Her heart beat wildly at the feel of his skin against her own, and that familiar electricity sparked to life inside of her.

When they parted, she smiled up at him, delighting in the way his eyes fluttered open. "Lovely as that was," he said, propping himself up on his elbow, "it didn't exactly answer my question."

Trinket laughed softly and tilted her head to the side. "Booker."

He lifted his hand and brushed back her hair. "I just want to be sure you're all right. I want you to be happy and comfortable, Trinket. I don't want to cause you any pain or distress, even unintentionally."

The look of sincere concern in his eyes nearly melted her heart. Running her fingers along his jaw and down to his chest, she leaned forward and caught his lips again. After a long moment, she parted from him just enough to whisper, "I've never been happier nor felt safer than when I'm in your embrace, Booker."

She only gave him time to release a short sigh of relief before she kissed him again, relishing how he drew her closer, his arms snaking around her waist and holding her tight.

It took several tries, but they eventually managed to come up for air, both slightly out of breath and decidedly giddy.

"I must admit, though, this does feel rather strange," Trinket said as she gathered the blankets to her chest.

"Sleeping in the nude?" Booker said. "Yes, but let me just say, you pull it off spectacularly."

Trinket rolled her eyes as she pulled the pillow out from under his head and whacked him in the face with it. His laughter muffled by the fabric, he tossed it aside and turned to face her, leaning his head against his hand.

"All right, if not the nudity, then what's so strange?" he asked, toying with a strand of her hair.

She shrugged and gestured to the room. "This. Being here. With you. In your bed."

"My dear, this is not the first time you've spent the night in my bed," he said, waggling his eyebrows at her.

"Beg pardon, my dear, but the time I spent in bed with you previously was quite a bit different from last night."

He smiled at her use of his patented phrase. "Indeed it was. An improvement in my mind."

Ignoring his teasing, she gazed up at the ceiling. "I'm not saying it's strange in a bad way. Just strange in a way I'll have to get used to. This is certainly not how I thought my life would turn out."

Booker's face fell, but he attempted a humorous smile all the same. "You mean as a little girl you didn't dream of marrying a delusional doctor who cut people's limbs off and replaced them with machines?"

"Believe it or not, no." She turned to him and raised her eyebrows. "I didn't think to dream that big."

His expression softened, the smile becoming less forced.

"No," she went on, facing the ceiling again, "I never even thought about marriage growing up. I mean, it crossed my mind on occasion, particularly when Merrill was courting Rae. Or when Tommy Webster made eyes at me."

"Tommy Webster? Wait, you never told me about Tommy Webster. Who's Tommy Webster?"

"But I never considered it seriously. I sort of just accepted the fact that if my own family couldn't deal with my condition, then no prospective husband could either."

Tracing his finger down her shoulder, Booker said, "Clearly the men in your little town were very close-minded. Possibly blind as well."

She smothered a smile and went on. "So it's strange. To have spent most of my life never thinking about the future because I believed I didn't have one. It was only less than six months ago that I was still trapped in Elysium, still a prisoner whose only goal was to end her life. And now I'm married in this charming little city—"

"Charming. Your manners are absolutely endearing, you know," Booker interrupted as he took up her hand and laid a kiss on her knuckles.

Snatching it away, she tried to give him a disapproving frown that quickly twisted into a grin as she ran her fingers through his hair. "With an insufferable genius as my husband and a new life to begin. For someone who has never truly contemplated a future, it's quite a lot to take in."

"Well, my dear," Booker said, shifting slightly as he rested his head on her shoulder, "the possibilities are endless. The world is your oyster."

She glanced down at him and cocked an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

He sat up a bit to meet her eyes. "I don't expect my goals and passions to be yours as well. We may be married, but that doesn't mean you don't have your own dreams and aspirations. I adore having you as my partner in science, but if it's not what you want to do, you don't need to. Nor do I expect you to play the pretty housewife who stays at home and plans elaborate dinners. You can do whatever you please, Trinket."

"Whatever I please?"

"Of course. If you want to continue to do the work of a maid, then go right ahead. Or if you want to join forces with Ms. Langtry and pretend to channel spirits, have at it. Or even don a blue uniform and become a law-abiding bobby."

Trinket furrowed her brow. "I don't believe the police would be willing to hire a woman, never mind one who's mentally unstable and married to a notorious doctor."

"Don't be so sure. I think between my blackmailing and your charm, we could get you in."

"Booker, I don't want to be a police officer."

"I might voice some concerns if you decide street work is your calling, but I'm sure Grace would take you under her wing should that be the case."

"Booker!"

Wrapping his arms around her, he leaned his forehead against her own. "The point is, my dear, that you are a brilliant, capable, and determined woman who can do anything she puts her mind to. I am honored that you've chosen me as your partner, so I will do anything and everything to support you in whatever you want to do with your life."

Trinket's lips twitched as she gazed into Booker's warm, passion-filled eyes. "Anything, you say?"

A smile crept across his own face. "Whatever your heart desires."

Whatever her heart desired. She wasn't really sure what that was. She'd never had the luxury of considering such things, between trying to hide her broken mind and keep her past sins a secret. Having the freedom to do so, though, felt almost as thrilling as lying in bed with the man she loved.

"Well, I think that will take some time to figure out," she said at last, draping her arms around Booker's neck. "But I do know who my heart desires. And I can promise you that, no matter what my future holds, that will never change."

Booker's smile grew. "You don't know how happy that makes me, Mrs. Larkin."

Catching his lips, she kissed him hard, twisting her fingers in his hair as another rush of electricity ran through her veins. Booker held her closer, and in a tangle of limbs and blankets, they fell back onto the bed.

As their kisses became more and more passionate, Booker unexpectedly pulled away. Trinket drew her brows together and asked breathlessly, "What is it?"

"While I am completely supportive of whatever decision you make for your future, may I make one small request?" he asked.

"And what's that?"

Pouting slightly, he said, "Can you let Daphne play the maid just for this morning so that we can be newlyweds a little longer?"

Laughing softly, she placed a quick peck on his lips and nodded. "Nothing would please me more, Mr. Larkin."

A devilish grin spread over his face as he pulled her back into his embrace and kissed her until the electricity threatened to burst through her skin.