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He nudged her legs open wider, pushing her knees back toward her shoulder and sank into her with stunning strength. Her cries wrapped around him, soothing and encouraging. She gripped him with sublime tightness, a litany of love spilling from her lips as he rode her with deep hard thrusts. She clawed at his back, undulated her hips against his strokes, taking him, chaining him to the desire that flowed between them.
He swallowed her moans, smothering his shout of satisfaction, as she rippled over his cock tighter than anything he had ever felt, drawing his release from him. He tumbled with her into more than pleasure.
He dived into love and the promise of happiness with her.
Epilogue
Fifteen months later
“Our daughter has your features. Beautiful dark hair, the greenest of eyes and the palest of skin. I can see I will have gray hair before my time.”
His sweet wife chuckled, delight chasing her features.
“And our son?” she asked, glancing toward his voice.
Alasdair gaze shifted to the babe cradled on Willow’s left side. “A perfect little man, but he has more of my features.”
She had only given birth a few hours ago, but she glowed with love and excitement instead of exhaustion.
“Aren’t they perfect?” she crooned, dipping to inhale their scent before placing gentle kisses unerringly on the tops of their heads.
The past year had been filled with passion and adventure. Willow still played the pianoforte every morning but also added horse riding as a part of her routine. At first, she had been hesitant in how far she rode Daisy, and Alasdair had been with her every step of the way, guiding and helping her. Within weeks, she had been galloping across the plains of the estate, trusting him and her horse, recalling her former skill as an expert horsewoman. He had not been surprised when only after six months of marriage she had become with child. He made love to her every night and at least twice in the day.
She ran Westerham Park better than even his mother could have imagined. They had become fast friends, and Willow had implored her to live with them at the estate and not retire to the dowager house. His mother had joyfully complied, and he had watched the growth of the relationships between his marchioness and his mother and sisters with avid fascination. At first, Willow had been hesitant then she had blossomed. She charmed them with her strength and her vivacity for life. He had witnessed his mother’s wariness swell into admiration, then respect, and then love.
The Duke of Milton had insisted on settling Willow’s dowry on them, and since Alasdair had no longer needed her money since his investments had returned tenfold, he had placed the dowry into a trust for his wife and children. Her father had shaken his hand and gruffly told Alasdair he had waited a damn long time to return for her.
“We did well, didn’t we,” Willow murmured in awe, when their son stirred and let out a small cry.
Alasdair climbed onto the bed beside her, gently gathering her close, careful not to disturb the twins’ comfort as they lay upon her chest suckling. His mother had thought it unfashionable Willow refused to employ a wet nurse, but she had insisted on providing for her babes herself, wanting to be as close to them as possible.
“We did brilliantly my love,” he whispered, dipping his head to kiss her lips softly. He breathed in deep, loving her fresh, clean scent that was peppered with the right hint of lavender. Warmth poured through him as her lips curved into a smile and unguarded happiness filled her eyes.
“I love you, Lady Westcliffe,” he whispered.
“And I love you, Alasdair, I think nearly as much as I love our twins.”
“I will have to lock you in the clock tower like a jealous ogre until you promise you love me most,” he teased.
“It is far too noisy to sleep in the clock tower.”
“I doubt if it is noisier than the twins in full cry,” he leaned over and kissed her even deeper, and his son and heir let out an annoyed scream in complaint. They laughed together as Willow replaced her son and he went back to contented guzzling.
Alasdair thought life was as perfect as his marchioness…
The Duke and I
Far be it for a lady to desire, hatch, and execute a daring seduction of a notorious duke at a masquerade ball. But Miss Emmaline Fitzgerald, a wallflower with no decent prospects, was on such a path, and her quarry was her brother’s best friend, Elliot Winthrop, the Duke of Ashbrook.
One moment of sin, stolen pleasure, and irresistible passion, that was all it was supposed to be….
Little did Penelope realized everything about her was imprinted in Elliot’s heart and mind, and her scandalous ruse was about to change and challenge everything she thought she knew about herself and the devilish duke.
Chapter 1
Bellview Manor, Chiswick, England 1818
It was the unhappiest news imaginable.
