Page 43 of Bound to the Heartless Duke (Regency Beasts #4)

ONE YEAR LATER

T he wind carried the scent of late-summer roses through the open terrace doors. It brushed the silk curtains, caressing the garden below.

The day was beautiful, sunlight spilling across the drawing room at Blackmore Manor. And amidst it all, as though the world had been created for their delight alone, stood Lily and Magnus.

“Do you suppose they’ll arrive on time?” Lily asked, her fingers lightly brushing over the lace trim of her neckline, then drifting to the small pendant Magnus had gifted her on her last birthday.

She wore lavender silk, the color of twilight violets, and her cheeks were flushed with the contentment of a woman both adored and deeply in love.

Magnus stood just behind her, one arm wrapped around her waist as though it had never quite learned how to let go. He pressed a kiss to the side of her neck, his breath warming her skin.

“I should think the Dukes and Duchesses of the realm are not known for their punctuality,” he murmured, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “But I daresay we are prepared to receive them whenever they deign to arrive.”

Lily laughed, the sound like a bell on a spring morning. “You only say that because you’ve already sampled three of Cook’s tarts since she brought them up from the kitchen.”

“I was merely ensuring the quality of the food,” he replied innocently, his lips finding her temple. “Though I admit, I much prefer you in this state, smiling softly in my arms. One year of marriage and you’ve made this house into something I never believed I deserved.”

He remembered how she had partnered with Mrs. Gunther and renovated the manor. Now, Blackmore Manor wasn’t so ‘black’; it was filled with color and light that could make one feel merry.

She turned in his embrace, and her hands moved to cup his cheek, her expression melting into something soft and radiant.

“And you, Magnus Wyndham, have made this house a home. You’ve filled it with laughter and music and maddeningly warm glances that make it impossible for me to think of anything but you.”

He caught her hand and kissed her palm. “Then my purpose is fulfilled.”

Their moment was interrupted by a polite knock.

The butler entered, bearing a letter on a silver tray. “This just arrived, Your Grace. Urgent, delivered by express messenger.”

Magnus furrowed his brow. “Thank you, Hastings.”

Once the butler had left the room, Lily watched as he broke the wax seal and scanned the page.

She also noticed the way his mood changes as he read the letter.

The stubborn furrow of his brow when he concentrated on matters concerning his business appeared and his jaw tightened warning ter that there were no god tidings to be found on that paper.

“Well?” she prompted, her voice light. “Good news, I hope?”

Magnus looked up, exhaling slowly. “It’s from an associate in the Colonies. The final sum we agreed upon has been received.”

Her eyes widened. “Truly? So, does that mean that the debt is…?”

He folded the letter and slipped it into the inside pocket of his coat, then looked at her with that rare, vulnerable openness he showed only to her.

“No, Lily. Not truly. If I meant to repay the full amount owed, it would take at least another seven years. Possibly more.”

She blinked, surprised, her hand instinctively reaching for his. “Seven years?”

“But,” he continued gently, “I have no intention of doing that. That money… to be honest, most of it belongs to you. A portion has been set aside in Nathan’s name, for the day he is released.

I intend to see him, give it to him, and hope that he’s learned something by then.

But the debt, in truth… it ends here. With us. I won’t let it haunt our future.”

Lily stood very still for a moment, absorbing every word. Once realization dawned, her heart swelled, not just with love but also with something deeper—like profound admiration, the kind that made her eyes well with tears.

“You’ve been planning this… for how long?” she whispered.

“Since the day I brought you home,” he said, stroking her knuckles with his thumb. “Since the day I realized you were more than what I had bargained for, more than a means of repayment. You are everything. My wife. My joy. The future I never dared to imagine.”

More tears pooled at the corners of her eyes, but her smile remained luminous. “And Nathan…” She tilted her slightly. “Do you think he’ll change?”

“I hope so,” Magnus replied quietly, wrapping his arm around her again. “I believe some men are capable of it, if given a chance.”

She stepped closer, resting a hand on his chest. “Then I believe that, too. Though I must confess, I don’t know yet if I’d want our child to know him.”

That made him pause, his eyes shooting to hers in unrestrained surprise.

“ Our child ?” he repeated, his voice low.

Her eyes danced with meaning before a laugh escaped her lips, a faint blush blooming across her cheeks.

“I wasn’t sure when to tell you. But yes… I believe we will be three, come spring.”

The ensuing silence was so perfect, so absolute, that even the distant tick of the clock on the mantelpiece seemed to fade away.

Magnus looked at her as though he could scarcely believe what he’d just heard.

“You’re with child?” he asked, his voice hoarse, like a man seeing the stars for the first time.

She nodded, her lips trembling with laughter and tears all at once. “Yes, Magnus. We’re going to have a baby.”

A slow, astonished grin spread across his face. His arms tightened around her once again before he lifted her off the floor in one fluid motion. She shrieked, laughing, before her arms looped around his neck.

“Magnus!”

“Do you think I’ll let you walk another step after telling me that?” he asked, his voice rough with joy. “You’ve just given me the world, Lily. The whole damn world.”

She buried her face in his neck as he carried her through the hall. “The guests?—”

“May wait. I have urgent business with my wife.”

“And what business would that be, Your Grace?” she asked, breathless with laughter.

He kicked the door to their chamber open, stepping into the warmness of soft lines, golden lights, and the scent of jasmine.

“I intend,” he said, lowering her to the bed with a wicked grin, “to worship the mother of my child in a most thorough and scandalous fashion.”

She arched an eyebrow, her lips parted. “Is that so?”

Without breaking eye contact, he trailed his hand down her arm. “You’ve gone and made me the happiest man alive. I think you deserve a bit of mischief before the nobles descend,” he teased.

“Then don’t make me wait,” she urged in a sultry tone.

Waiting was certainly not what he wanted either.

Magnus leaned in and kissed her like a man who had waited a lifetime, even though she was his wife. Like a man who had been given permission to love so freely and deeply.

His lips were warm and possessive, tasting of wine and something unmistakably him. Lily responded with soft, eager sighs as her fingers tangled in his silky, dark hair, pulling him closer.

His weight pressed her into the feather-soft mattress, and she groaned, loving every moment of his roughness.

“Still certain you want to host a dinner party?” he whispered against her lips, chuckling as her hands slipped beneath his waistcoat.

“Utterly foolish idea,” she murmured breathlessly. “Let’s lock the doors, bolt the windows, pretend we’ve fled the country.”

“I’ll write to the guests,” he played along, nibbling on her earlobe, “tell them we’ve been waylaid by passion and won’t be receiving visitors until spring.”

She laughed, and when she imagined how Cecilia would react to that, she threw her head back and laughed even harder.

“They would not be surprised, knowing us.”

His hands roamed over her bodice, unfastening it with reverent slowness. He kissed along the line of her collarbone, pausing when he felt the quickening of her breath, the subtle arch of her body responding to his touch.

“You are more beautiful now than you were the day I married you. And I thought then that I’d seen the height of heaven’s blessings,” he murmured.

Her lips curled into a smile as her eyes fluttered open. “You poetic devil.”

“Only for you,” he replied, brushing his thumb along her lower lip. “I had no poetry before you.”

There was something in his gaze, a depth that stole her breath.

Magnus did not only desire her. He adored her. Revered her. His passion was matched only by his tenderness.

Their kiss deepened, slow and sensual, and Lily felt herself drown in the heat of it, in the strong, steady hands that mapped her skin with unhurried reverence.

His jacket and waistcoat fell away, followed by her gown, until they were pressed skin to skin beneath the golden light of the late afternoon.

“Tell me again,” he whispered, kissing a trail from her neck to the swell of her breasts. “Tell me I’m going to be a father.”

Her fingers clutched his back, her nails raking over his muscles as she sighed. “You’re going to be a father, Magnus Wyndham. And I-I will spend the rest of my days falling deeper in love with you.”

He groaned low in his throat and made love to her like a man claiming the last part of his soul.

Every movement, every breath, was laced with purpose—an oath sealed not in words, but in skin, sweat, and whispered laughter.

They lay tangled together in the aftermath, their bodies still humming with the tremors of shared joy.

Lily rested her head on his chest, listening to the calming rhythm of his heart beneath her cheek.

“I never believed in miracles,” Magnus said softly, “until you.”

She smiled against him. “And now?”

“Now, I believe in everything.”

A gentle knock at the door stirred them from their reverie.

“Your Grace?” came Hastings’ voice, muffled but unmistakable. “Your guests have arrived.”

Magnus sighed and pressed a lingering kiss to Lily’s hair. “Of course they have.”

She laughed softly. “We’ve kept them waiting long enough.”

He rose and helped her dress, his hands lingering longer than necessary on each fastening, until she swatted him playfully.

“We’ll never make it downstairs at this rate.”

“Tragic,” he said, feigning a mournful tone, “to be imprisoned in a room with my radiant wife and no choice but to ravish her again.”

“Downstairs,” she said firmly, tugging him toward the door. “You may ravish me again tonight—if you’re very charming and dance with me.”

“I shall dazzle you with my charm,” he vowed, “and step on your toes with utmost elegance.”

They descended the grand staircase, hand in hand, the sounds of laughter and conversation drifting up from the drawing room.

The End?