Page 2 of Sweet Duke of Mine

A STOLEN MOMENT IN TIME

L ying on the cool grass beside her true love, Daisy pushed thoughts of the future away.

Unlike Alastair, she held no delusions that the time between the two of them could go on forever. They might have one more year together, or one more month. But eventually, this surreal connection between the two of them would be severed.

One day, Alastair would be duke.

She would always be the daughter of a man who worked the duke’s land.

Alastair would leave her.

Daisy had always known it, had understood it from the moment she first laid eyes on him, from the day he’d sought her out.

Their stolen moments were temporary, a fragile dream she would have to wake from sooner or later.

When the time came, yes, her heart would break—but hearts were resilient things. Long after he married a proper lady of high birth, someone chosen for him by his father or uncle, she would still have this .

These memories. These golden, fleeting moments of reckless happiness.

She would toil in the fields beside her father, planting and harvesting as the seasons turned. In the evenings, she’d cook and clean beside her mother, hands busy with the simple, steady work of living. Perhaps one day, there would be a husband at her side, children to chase after, a life built from practicality rather than impossible dreams.

And yet, no matter what the future held, she would always have this.

A secret she could tuck into the quietest corners of her heart.

Memories of being loved so wonderfully, so completely, by a beautiful, honorable, and perfectly unattainable gentleman.

A man who was never meant to be hers.

Unless Alastair is right…

For all her practical thoughts on the matter, she could not help but dream—that their love was different. Special. That somehow, against all odds, it was powerful enough to overcome the dictates of society.

But now wasn’t the time for dreams—or worrying.

Because right now, Alastair’s mouth traced the curve of her face, his breath warm against her skin, and everything else melted away. She turned into him, seeking his lips, inhaling his essence, savoring the spicy heat of his kiss as if she could capture this moment and keep it forever. “Daisy,” he murmured against her lips. “My everything.” He rolled her onto her back. She widened her legs, her gown already gathered around her hips as he settled between her thighs.

Nothing else existed. Only Alastair. Only this feeling. Only this love, bared beneath an endless sky, blessed by the summer sun.

She thrust her hips up at the same time he shifted, growling into her neck, and the entire world disappeared .

Time whirled into infinity, impossible to contain. Willow branches draped around them, nature’s cover. Fresh grass spread across the ground as their bed.

“I love you, Alastair.”

Daisy needed him to know this.

Long after the two of them went their separate ways, he would know that he’d been fully loved—that he forever possessed her heart.

He moved one hand between them, fumbling at his falls.

She belonged to him. Nothing else mattered in that moment. This day, this hour, this second. It belonged to the two of them.

And so Daisy moved to help him, her fingers working the buttons free, one by one. The fabric parted, exposing glimpses of the familiar planes of his chest. Together, they tugged his shirt up and over his head, the garment falling somewhere beside them, forgotten.

She had seen him like this before—many times.

Alastair had taught her to swim in the secluded pond at the far edge of his father’s estate, where the water was cool and hidden from prying eyes. She had watched the sun gleam off his bare shoulders as he moved through the water with easy grace. Had even felt the smooth, warm texture of his skin beneath her fingertips when he had held her afloat, his strong hands steadying her, guiding her.

But here, now, in the hush of this moment, it felt different.

The intimacy of it—of undressing him—made her pulse quicken.

And as her gaze traced the familiar lines, she paused, trailing her fingertips from his shoulders to the rippling muscles of his abdomen.

He trembled.

No one knew him as she did. No one else had heard the quiet confessions of doubt, the fears he never dared utter to anyone but her.

Others only saw the heir to a dukedom—strong, privileged, untouchable. But she knew the truth. She knew the restless uncertainty that lived beneath his skin, the weight of expectations he feared he might never meet.

When he had admitted feeling inadequate, she had listened. She could not take away his worries—words alone would never be enough.

Someday, his actions—the choices he made—would reveal the truth of his own worth to him. He would rule the dukedom he had been born to inherit.

And he would do so not just with wisdom and power, but with heart.

Because that was who he truly was. Some day.

Not yet.

Today, he belonged to her.

She arched her back while his palms and fingertips skimmed her tender flesh. Drinking kisses from his mouth, she welcomed his touch.

Sounds clawed up her throat, incoherent words and thoughts expressly for him. “Need. You. Mine. Love…”

She nearly wept when he drew back, kneeling between her legs, his breeches unfastened. Her pulse pounded in her ears while he stared down at her with heavy eyes, his mouth glistening and parted. Daisy settled her gaze on his member… his penis .

An air of wonder, of discovery and excitement, hovered around them both.

She pushed herself onto her elbows, reached forward, and touched it. “It's hot,” she said. “And so soft.” She caressed the texture, which reminded her of the finest silk.

God’s silk .

“Not soft.” Alastair covered her hand and wound both their fingers around it. It was thick, pulsing beneath her palm.

Milky liquid appeared at the tip.

She pushed away hesitation, thoughts that she should look away. That a good girl would be squeamish, or allow guilt to ruin this moment.

Instead, she swirled her thumb over the single pearl, spreading his seed around the skin.

Alastair inhaled a sharp breath.

“Does it hurt?” She wavered, waiting.

“You touching me?” His voice caught. “Feels like heaven. I’ve dreamed of this…”

She moved her gaze over his face, and warmth curled through her at what she saw. The sharp angles of his cheekbones hadn’t yet lost all their boyish softness, but there was already a promise of the man he would become. His aquiline nose, the determined set of his jaw, and the bright, intelligent gleam in his eyes would forever set him apart from other boys his age.

And oh, how those green eyes stole her breath—always alight with hope.

But in that moment, she saw more.

She saw desire. Adoration. Soul-consuming love . His looks stole her breath, but she loved him for the man inside.

And she always would.

Alastair’s hand left hers and when she nodded, he gathered her skirts up higher.

This was a first for both of them—because neither kept secrets from the other. And when he swirled one finger around a very intimate curl, her breath hitched. His gaze slid from her face to between her legs. Another first for both of them.

Exploring.

She studied him while he studied her.

She moved her gaze down his neck, over his taut belly to his shaft. No words were necessary. Trust bound them together, casting out all inhibitions.

Their eyes locked, both filled with questions. This level of familiarity was too much and yet it was not enough.

Daisy nodded, and Alastair lowered himself onto her. Chest to chest, hip to hip, mouth to mouth.

“Daisy,” he breathed. “My precious Daisy.”

She cradled his face between her hands, their mouths fused, breathing the same air. Loving him.

Fullness. A twinge of pain. But then more fullness. And for the first time in her life, she felt like a whole person. No longer one heart, but two.

She’d been created for this very purpose. She’d been created for this man.

“Yes.” He shifted back and then entered her again. “Yes,” she urged him.

“Love you,” Alastair said. He shifted out and then in again. “Love you.”

Daisy moved with him, allowing fate to guide this pinnacle act of love.

Alastair’s movements grew more deliberate, each touch sending a fresh wave of sensation spiraling through Daisy—coiling low in her belly, spreading warmth through her limbs, filling her chest until she thought she might burst from the sheer wonder of it.

And then he stopped.

Her body cried out in protest, her lips parting to beg him not to—only for his finger to press gently against them, silencing her before she could utter a sound.

Then she heard it too.

The thunder of hooves, fast and unrelenting, closing the distance between them. Each strike against the earth sent vibrations through the ground, rattling the fragile cocoon they had wrapped themselves in .

Alastair’s horse, loosely tethered to a nearby tree, let out a sharp whinny.

Someone was approaching. And fast.

Their gazes locked, the heat between them still simmering, but they… could not.

Alastair withdrew, and the flash of frustration in his eyes—perhaps even pain—mirrored her own sense of loss. But there was no time to lament. They would find one another tomorrow. Or the day after.

The hoofbeats slowed, then stopped altogether.

Panic jolted through Daisy, and in a flurry of frantic movement, she and Alastair scrambled to right themselves. Fingers fumbling, she smoothed her skirts, trying to banish any telltale signs of what they’d been doing. Alastair yanked his shirt over his head, raking a hand through his hair to tame its wild disarray.

The curtain of thick willow branches parted with a sharp rustle.

“Alastair!”

The voice—sharp, furious—made Daisy flinch.

Alastair’s uncle stepped into their cocoon, his imposing figure backlit by the sunlight filtering through the thin branches. His gaze swept over them, taking in their disheveled state, his expression darkening with every passing second.

He was livid.

And they were caught.

Feeling exposed, ashamed, Daisy wanted nothing more than to hold onto Alastair—for him to be her shield.

But she… could not.

“The entire household has been searching for you,” Lord Calvin practically spat, affording Daisy no more than a disgusted glance.

Daisy had seen the man from a distance several times, and of course, she’d heard him shouting at various workers. But, as one would expect, she’d never been introduced to Lord Calvin.

Close up now, she immediately noticed the family resemblance. He shared Alastair’s thick mahogany hair—albeit streaked with gray—high cheeks, green eyes, and aquiline nose, but it ended there.

Whereas Alastair stood tall, with broad shoulders that tapered to a flat belly, his uncle hunched over, and his jacket strained at his paunch. And although the older man’s eyes were the same shade as Alastair’s, they lacked any goodness or warmth whatsoever.

According to Daisy’s father, Lord Calvin did not possess the same character that the Duke of Lovington did. And, unfortunately, until Alastair reached his majority and while his father was away, Lovington’s younger brother had been charged with acting as proxy.

Alastair tossed his jacket to Daisy to provide her some measure of protection and rose to face his uncle. “Well, you’ve found me. What is so urgent that you’ve come after me like a madman?” He sounded angry, but underneath that, she could hear concern as well.

“A message from London.” Lord Calvin frowned, softening his voice in what sounded like sympathy. “You must go to your father immediately. It might already be too late.”

Alastair shook his head. “What’s happened?”

“No time to explain.” The older man’s gaze finally shifted to behind Alastair, where Daisy sat huddled. “He is gravely ill.”

There was silence for a moment, and when she looked at him, Alastair was pale. “Alastair, you must go.” Daisy handed back the jacket, hoping that she had covered herself decently enough.

Alastair loved his father.

Her dearest friend, her one true love, turned back, looking torn. “I need to escort you home. ”

“No.” She raised a hand, holding his gaze and speaking firmly. “I’ll be fine. You mustn’t waste time. Go.”

Still, he hesitated. He’d wanted to speak to her father tomorrow.

A sharp pang squeezed her chest. She didn’t want to believe it was a premonition, and yet deep down, she knew. Nothing would be the same.

She knew.

He would go to London and take his place in Society—with or without his father. Proper ladies who had been raised to be perfect duchesses would be presented to him. They would be beautiful and refined, and she would be relegated to no more than a pleasant memory.

Lord Calvin folded his arms across his chest. “Time is of the essence, Wadsworth.” He addressed Alastair by his courtesy title. How long before he was truly the duke?

Which only further reminded Daisy of all the reasons talk of forever had been a mistake. What had she been thinking?

She’d been thinking that she loved him—that’s what.

She’d made a conscious decision to take whatever joy she could have before it ended.

Alastair turned back, more torn than she’d ever seen him. “I’ll return,” he promised, his eyes searching hers. There was a silent conversation between them, unspoken words only the two of them could comprehend.

I won’t leave if you don’t want me to.

Go to your father. I love you.

I am so sorry we were interrupted. I love you. I’ll return soon. Wait for me.

“Go.” Daisy reached out and squeezed his arm. One last time…

His love for her would fade. They were lucky that they’d been interrupted—that he had not spent inside of her. “Be safe.”

Following a very long moment, a moment in which Lord Calvin’s impatience thickened the air, Alastair finally nodded and allowed his uncle to draw him away.

Long after the sounds of hooves disappeared, Daisy sat alone on the blanket they’d shared, remembering.

And then weeping.

Because deep inside, she knew.

It was the end.