Page 48

“ D o you need anything else tonight, Your Grace?” Agnes asked softly as she placed a tray of tea beside Selina’s chair.

Selina shook her head. “No, thank you. You’ve done more than enough.” She gave her a small smile, trying to reassure her. “Get some rest. It’s been a long day.”

Agnes curtsied and left, the door closing gently behind her.

Selina stayed by the fire, the quiet crackle of flames the only sound in the room.

The warmth helped, but only on the surface.

The inside of her still felt cold, shaken.

She had bathed, dressed in a soft nightgown and a worn wrapper.

The salve had soothed the rope burns on her wrists, but not the memories.

Annette’s voice, her wild eyes, the sharp fear of not knowing if she would survive. It all lingered.

A knock broke the stillness.

“Come in,” Selina said quietly.

Rowan stepped inside. He looked uncertain, like he wasn’t sure he belonged. He had changed out of his travel clothes, but his hair was still damp and a little wild. He didn’t move right away.

“May I talk to you?”

She nodded toward the chair across from her. “Of course.”

He sat down slowly. They didn’t speak. The fire popped gently between them. Selina watched the flames. She didn’t trust her voice yet.

“Thank you,” she said at last, her voice low. “For finding me. For coming.”

Rowan looked like he might shatter. He gripped his hands together and stared at the floor.

“I almost lost you,” he said, his voice raw. “And it would’ve been my fault.”

She didn’t answer, not yet.

“I thought I was protecting you. That if I kept my distance, you’d be safe. But I was wrong. I see that now.”

He looked at her then, really looked, and what she saw in his eyes nearly undid her.

“I’ve made so many mistakes. I let fear make choices for me. I shut you out when I should have let you in. I didn’t trust you, and I didn’t trust myself.”

His voice faltered. He rubbed his face with both hands.

“I was afraid that if you saw the real me, the broken pieces, you’d walk away. That you’d realize you deserved better than someone like me.”

Selina felt her chest tighten. She hadn’t heard him speak like this before. Not so openly.

“When she had the gun to your head,” he went on, “nothing else mattered. Not pride, not fear. Only you. Getting you out, holding you again, telling you what I should have said weeks ago.”

He reached for her hands. His were shaking. His grip was gentle, almost unsure.

“I love you, Selina. More than I know how to explain. You are everything. My heart, my peace, my reason for wanting to be better. If you can forgive me, if there’s even the smallest chance, I’ll spend the rest of my life proving I’m worth it.”

Tears slid down her cheeks before she realized they were coming. His words hit deep, not because they were grand, but because they were honest.

“You hurt me,” she said quietly. “When you pushed me away. When you decided I couldn’t be trusted with your truth. It made me feel small. Unworthy.”

“I know,” he whispered. “I know I failed you. I carry that.”

“I felt alone,” she said. “Even when we were happy, I always had this fear in the back of my mind that you’d disappear again. That if things got too hard, you’d close the door and leave me standing outside.”

“I won’t,” he said, leaning forward. “Never again. I swear it. You won’t have to wonder where I stand. I’ll be beside you, always.”

She searched his face, unsure. Wanting to believe him. Wanting it to be true.

“I don’t know if I can open my heart again,” she whispered. “Not fully. Not if it means risking that kind of hurt again.”

He nodded. The hope in his eyes dimmed, but he didn’t let go of her hands.

“I understand,” he said. “If you ask me to walk away, I will. I’ll never stop loving you, but I’ll go.”

He started to pull back, but she held on.

“Wait.”

He stilled, his gaze searching hers.

“I said I don’t know if I can,” she said, “but I do know that I can’t walk away. Not from this. Not from you. I love you, Rowan. Even when it was hard, I never stopped.”

His breath caught. He looked like he might fall apart.

“I don’t need you to be perfect,” she whispered. “I just need you to be real with me. Honest. Present.”

“I will be,” he said. “I am. You have my whole heart, Selina. No more hiding.”

She reached up to cup his cheek. “Then you have mine too.”

He leaned into her touch like a man starving. Then he kissed her. Not urgently, not desperately. Just fully. With all the tenderness of someone who had almost lost everything.

The fire cast shadows across the walls as they held each other. They didn’t need to speak. Everything they needed to say was already in the way their hands found each other, in the way they breathed each other in like something holy.

When he lifted her into his arms and carried her to bed, it wasn’t about passion. It was about closeness, about the quiet need to feel whole again. To be known. To be forgiven.

He set her down gently, his hands lingering at her waist, his eyes searching hers as if to make sure she was still with him in all the ways that mattered. She reached up and touched his face, her fingertips brushing along his jaw, memorizing the roughness, the warmth.

He leaned in, slow and sure, his lips meeting hers with a tenderness that sent something deep inside her trembling. The kiss was soft at first, unhurried, reverent. His hands slid up her back, pulling her closer, as if the space between them had grown too wide to bear.

She melted into him, her hands threading through his hair, her body fitting against his like a long-forgotten puzzle piece falling into place.

Each kiss deepened, growing warmer, more certain, but never rushed.

His mouth moved to her cheek, her jaw, the curve of her throat, pressing soft kisses that made her breath catch and her heart race.

Her wrapper slipped from her shoulders, forgotten.

Rowan kissed her again, deeper this time, his hands caressing the soft curves he had missed like air.

His lips moved from her mouth to the line of her jaw, then lower, trailing a slow path along her throat.

He paused at the hollow just above her collarbone, breathing her in, pressing a kiss there.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice rough with feeling. “I could spend the rest of my life just learning you by touch.”

Selina’s fingers curled into his hair, her breath catching as he kissed along her shoulder, his hands sliding over her back, her sides. He took his time, letting his mouth map her skin, brushing over the swell of her breast, the curve of her ribcage. Each kiss was soft but certain, full of want.

She arched toward him without meaning to, her body already answering his without hesitation. He whispered her name as his lips moved lower, across her chest, over the flutter of her heartbeat, then down along the center of her body.

“You’re everything,” he said, brushing a kiss just beneath her breast. “Everything I didn’t know I needed. Everything I will never stop wanting.”

His mouth continued its journey downward, slow and sure, until he reached the nest of curls between her thighs.

She felt the flick of his tongue and she opened her legs to allow him access.

His tongue found her entrance, and he licked into her.

His hands were on her hips, holding her still. She moaned and pressed herself to him.

His efforts grew more concentrated, demanding, as he licked her pearl. He sank two fingers inside of her, thrusting deep, bringing her close to a crescendo of pleasure.

Selina’s eyes closed and her head tipped back. “Please, Rowan,” she gasped. “I need you inside of me.”

He needed no further prompting. He slid up her body, leaving a trail of fiery kisses in his wake. When he reached her mouth, he captured her lips in his and entered her with a thrust that caused Selina to gasp with pleasure. He stopped and looked down at her, his eyes filled with desire.

“I promise to never stop loving you.” And as the last word left his lips, he thrust into her again with a need that spoke of hunger, love, and passion.

Selina met each thrust with her own desires. As she reached the point of no return, a gasp escaped her lips, her body clenching with each ripple of pleasure. Waves of heat flushed her skin, a sweet scent filling her senses as the exquisite feeling washed over her like a silken tide.

As she writhed beneath him, her skin slick with sweat, Rowan gave a final, shuddering thrust, the sounds muffled and urgent. He released into her, a hot, thick rush, the scent of arousal heavy in the air. Her body arched, trembling, muscles taut with pleasure and exhaustion.

Later, they lay in the stillness, her head on his chest, his arms wrapped tight around her. The fear was gone. In its place was peace.

“What happens now?” she asked, her voice barely more than a breath.

He looked down at her, his fingers moving slowly through her hair.

“Now we live,” he said. “We wake up, and we keep choosing each other. No matter what comes.”

“No more secrets?”

“No more secrets,” he promised. “No more silence. No more pulling away.”

She tilted her head to look at him. “That sounds like the life I’ve always wanted.”

He smiled, brushing a lock of hair from her cheek. “I love you, Selina.”

“And I love you.”

Outside, London slept. Inside the quiet room, the duke and duchess found their beginning. Not the start of duty or arrangement, but something real. Something lasting.

The pain of the past had been spoken and laid to rest.

What remained was love.

And for the first time, it was enough.