Page 53 of The Duke that I Lost

But before he could even finish, she was already shaking her head.

“I-I cannot.” And then she tilted her head back and met his gaze with regret. “I am to travel to Bath at the end of the Season, with Lord Grimstead.”

Dash wasn’t certain he’d heard her properly. He simply stared into her eyes and wondered if the horror of her announcement showed on his face.

“You can’t.”

Grimm . Of all men—Ashbourne Covington. “I’ve been trying to live my life,” she pressed on, hugging her arms around herself. “Lord Grimstead… he has been attentive, entertaining, and yes, kind. I enjoy his company. But do not mistake me—I have no expectations of him. None.”

“Do you love him?” he forced out, raw.

Ambrosia flinched, as if the question itself pierced her. She lifted a hand to her mouth, her voice breaking. “I feel affection, yes. But love?” She shook her head. “No. Not the kind you mean. Not what I—” She cut herself off, blinking back tears.

Dash stepped toward her. “Then don’t say our story is over. Do not close the door between us.”

“But it is closed. It has to be.” Her voice was low, trembling.

She tilted her head back, forcing herself to look him in the eye.

“You left me, Dash. Two years ago, you vanished without a word. No, worse than that, you vanished after you assured me repeatedly that you wouldn’t…

I was so broken, I nearly lost myself. It was… I can’t… I cann ot go backward.”

The words struck him like stones. But her eyes, shining with regret, told him she was not being cruel. She was still hurt.

She was afraid to trust him again.

“I love you, princesse .” His voice was raw, stripped bare. He had nothing left to lose. “ Je t’aime, plus que ma propre vie.” I love you, more than my own life. “Don’t do this. Don’t let what we had slip away.” He caught her shoulders, not to cage her, but to keep himself from shattering.

“I can’t go through that again, Dash.” Her trembling hand lifted, as though to reach for him—hesitant, wavering.

Before she could pull back, Dash drew her into his arms.

And this time—this time—he would not squander the chance.

It might be the last he would ever have.

His mouth claimed hers with all the hunger of a man too long denied. There was nothing gentle in it, nothing restrained—he kissed her as if to pour two years of agony into her, as if his very soul depended on the taste of her lips.

His knees nearly buckled when she yielded.

Sweet heaven, she melted against him.

And her mouth parted, welcoming his tongue with a fervor that stole his breath.

She tasted of tea and tears and… Ambrosia —an intoxicating elixir he could never— would never—live without.

Touching her, holding her, kissing her… was everything he remembered and yet infinitely more, because now he knew what it was to live without her. Now he knew how unbearable life was without this.

“Please.” He begged the word against her lips, against the hot silk of her skin as his mouth trailed to her jaw, to the fragile column of her throat.

“My mistake tortured me for two years. Yours would torture us both for a lifetime. And you— mon c?ur —tell me you don’t feel this fire between us.

Tell me we are not meant to be together forever. ”

Her head tipped back, a broken sound leaving her as he kissed the hollow beneath her ear. She trembled, her hands clutching at his shoulders as though she, too, was caught in the storm.

“We are fated for one another, ma princesse . It was in the tea leaves. The love. It was not meant to be at the time, we both had to wait. Tell me that was not the fortune you were given. You’ve been mine since the day I caught you staring out the window.

Ma princesse, Ma Ambrosia. Please, don’t decide yet. I beg of you.”

With all of his emotions spent, he held her tightly, silently, and awaited her answer.

“I love you,” he said again, pouring his soul into the words.

She choked on a sob and then allowed another to escape. God help him if he’d lost her. God help them both.

And then, “I don’t know.” Her voice sounded thin, almost a whisper.

“But you will take some time. You won’t go… You will think it over first.”

Finally, a small, almost imperceptible nod.

His heart could beat again. “Don’t make your decision yet. Promise me?” he said.

“Yes. I just, I need time.” An almost violent shudder ran through her. Dash knew it was not only confusion. It was not only sadness. It was passion. It was desire. And he knew—he hoped—it was love.

He had hurt her, but she still loved him.

This time there was no laughter as Dash mounted Guinevere and then assisted Ambrosia up to sit in front of him.

The ache in his chest was merciless, but braided with something he had not known in years—hope. Fragile, foolish perhaps, but real.

Ambrosia leaned against him, head turned so that her cheek rested over his heart, her hand tangled with his.

Neither spoke; neither needed to. The steady rhythm of Guinevere’s stride lulled them into a silence that was anything but empty.

For ten stolen minutes, the world was narrowed to the warmth of her body, the whisper of her breath, the quiet strength of being together.

No questions. No regrets. Just the simple joy of sharing in each other’s presence, each moment cherished even as it slipped through their fingers.

By the time they reached her townhouse, the spell was already breaking. Dash swung down from the saddle first, his boots striking the street. He caught her about the waist as he helped her dismount, his touch lingering longer than necessary.

“I won’t bother you again until I have your decision.” There was nothing more that Dash could do.

All his cards were on the table. All he could do was wait to see how she chose to play hers.

Would she gamble on him knowing they could win the prize of a lifetime, or would she take her losses and walk away?