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He walked toward his wife, who was petting Serafina while Perseus stood next to her companionably. She looked like a goddess of nature, at home in the gardens with the animals. She was also like a mother to her sisters.

A mother.

His chest clenched at the thought of children running in the gardens, yelling. Playing. Bursting with love.

“Marianne, please meet me in your bedchamber,” he said softly.

She looked up at him. At first, there was uncertainty—a look that made him feel deep regret for hurting her. Then, there was something flitting that he could not read.

Whatever it was, she still managed to nod and rise from her comfortable place with her beloved animals.

“Very well. For what?” she asked evenly.

“To talk.”

“Why can’t we do it here?”

“Please.”

Marianne seemed to take that into consideration. Then, she nodded. But she didn’t look too convinced.

Minutes later, Dominic knocked on her door.

“Come in,” she called.

It was hard to gauge what she felt, but he knew that he must enter and see it through. He shut the door behind him carefully. He scanned the room, thinking about how much he missed this. Missed her .

Dominic wanted more than anything to hold and kiss Marianne, but he stopped a few feet away from her. He simply stood and waited. He promised himself that he would be patient.

“I’ve never been more afraid of anything,” he admitted, “than I am of this conversation.”

“Oh. Good,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “You should be.”

“I know I deserve that.”

He had not expected her to make it easier, but she simply sat in front of her vanity. Waiting. And yes, she deserved everything. Him begging. And that was what he did.

He sank to his knees before her, even as she protested awkwardly. It was like confessing in a chapel about a myriad of sins.

“Marianne, I am sorry,” he began, his voice shaky.

He had never spoken like this. Even at his most quiet, he was confident.

Not now. Not with her.

“I dismissed your feelings, made you feel little more than a prisoner. Because of my words and actions, you thought that all of us men are like your father. When you left, I didn’t seek you right away. Instead, I drowned my sorrows in brandy and terrible company.”

Her arms loosened. Still, she said nothing. Her eyes glittered with what might be unshed tears, but even the furious could cry from anger.

“I was blind and arrogant,” he continued. “I thought I knew what was best for you. If I kept you by my side, you wouldn’t have had to suffer at Linpool’s hands. I failed you.”

“Yes, you did,” she uttered.

They were three simple words, and yet he nodded in acceptance. They were the truth .

“I thought of many ways to say sorry, but none of them felt enough. I will say it over and over if need be, and will spend the rest of my life making things right, if you’d let me,” he promised.

The sound of the clock ticking became louder and louder. It filled the space between them and seemed to stretch on forever.

“I was terrified when I heard you order me to stay inside the house. It reminded me of Father. I didn’t say I would be gallivanting in faraway places. I only wanted you to be with me, since you wanted to protect me, as you said.”

“I will keep you close to me, Marianne. Always. If you’ll let me. My fears blinded me. I meant well, but I was harsh. I am sorry.”

“What would you do to prove that you’re sorry?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

“Anything,” he said fervently, still kneeling.

“Even giving up meat?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He blinked.

“No more roast beef, lamb with rosemary glaze, or duck confit. None of those. I know you love those dishes. Nothing.”

He hesitated for just a moment. Then, he looked into her beautiful hazel eyes.

Could he risk not seeing her again? Could he risk losing her?

No.

“I’ll eat turnips, carrots, or whatever else you want me to eat. I’d do anything just for you to take me back.”

“I don’t really care if you eat meat or not,” she said, laughing.

“Then why?”

“I wanted to see if you’d give it up for me.”

Relief washed over him. If he was hearing her right, she was prepared to take him back.

He finally rose to his feet, although his eyes were on her all the while, as if waiting for her to tell him to kneel back down.

“I love you,” he confessed, his voice cracking. “I love you, Marianne Carlyle, Duchess of Oakmere. I love every bit of you—the fierceness and intelligence, and even your stubbornness. Even though you drive me mad, I cannot imagine another day without you.”

She stepped forward then. Gone was her facade—it only crumbled. She reached up to cup his face, her eyes shining with tears.

“You make me so angry, but I love you too, Dominic Carlyle, Duke of Oakmere,” she croaked. “I missed you so much. I thought you wouldn’t come for me.”

Then, they closed the gap between them.

Dominic was not sure how it happened, but their lips met. The kiss was gentle at first, seeking and asking. Then, it got deeper, becoming hungry and urgent.

It was a rediscovery. All the longing they felt exploded at that moment.

Dominic tugged at her hair, loosening the strands. He threaded his fingers into them as he led her into a passionate dance. He slowly backed her up against the wall, his lips trailing down her neck to her collarbone.

“Are you certain of this?” he asked, hoping she would not resist him.

“Yes, Dominic! I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.”

So, he carried her in his arms and gently placed her in the middle of her bed. He did so carefully, as if she were made of glass—one that could shatter any time. But she was pulling him down, urgently tugging at his shirt.

Their clothes quickly came off until they were bare to each other again. It felt like a lifetime ago when Dominic last saw her like this—naked and pliant and wanting.

He kissed her shoulder adoringly, lingering there as if he had forever. And yes, he would continue fighting for that forever.

“Dominic,” she begged.

Who was he to deny her anything? He felt her shatter when his lips closed around a nipple and sucked on it hard. But he was not ready to stop yet. This was just the beginning. He entered her gently and slowly, torturing her and himself.

He was home.

Her heat enveloped him, and there was nothing else to do but to engage in that age-old dance between lovers.

This time, there was no rush. Each thrust was heaven, as she squeezed him tightly. His hips soon pumped faster and faster, and their breathing became more ragged. When she cried out and shuddered, clenching around him, it was hard not to follow her over the edge.

He came hard. Everything was blurry, and yet it was pure bliss.

“You can keep the bacon, too,” she said in a teasing voice as she kissed his shoulder.

She still held him tight, and he was still inside her.

Dominic chuckled. “Thank you, merciful one,” he teased back.

“Merciful? No. Just in love,” she whispered.

“I am certainly the luckiest man alive,” was all he could say, before he kissed her again.

He had never thought it possible to feel like he was bursting with happiness.

But here they were.