There was no uncertainty here. This was the joining of two people who’d finally stopped running from what they felt, who’d chosen vulnerability over safety and found something worth the risk.
Theodore moved with deliberate slowness, his eyes locked onto hers, his breathing ragged.
“I could do this for the rest of my life,” he said, his voice wrecked. “Wake up beside you, touch you like this, know that you’re mine and I’m yours and nothing else matters.”
“Yes.” She arched beneath him, seeking more contact, more friction, more of everything. “Yes, Theodore. Please?—”
His control fractured at her plea, his thrusts quickening. Cressida matched his rhythm, her hands gripping his shoulders as pleasure built with each stroke. She could feel it coiling tighter, that same devastating sensation he’d introduced her to weeks ago, but somehow more intense now, all-consuming because of the emotion threaded through it.
“Look at me,” Theodore commanded roughly when her eyes threatened to close. “I want to see you, want to watch you come apart knowing you’re mine.”
The combination of his words and the angle of his next thrust sent her over the edge.
Cressida cried out, her body clenching around him as release crashed through her in waves that seemed to have no end. Through it all, he watched her with such fierce possessiveness that she felt claimed all over again.
His own release followed moments later, his thrusts becoming erratic before he buried himself deep inside her with a groan that sounded like her name. She felt the warmth of his seed spilling inside her, felt the tension drain from his body as he collapsed against her, his weight a welcome pressure.
For a long moment, they simply breathed together, their bodies still joined, their hearts racing in sync. Then Theodore rolled onto his side, drawing her with him so she lay sprawled across his chest, one leg hooked over his hip to keep him inside her.
“Don’t want to let you go yet,” he murmured into her hair, his hands stroking her back with languid contentment. “Not sure I ever want to let you go again.”
Cressida smiled against his chest, exhaustion and satisfaction making her pleasantly heavy. “Then don’t. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Promise?”
She lifted her head to meet his eyes, seeing vulnerability there that he no longer tried to hide. “I promise. Whatever happens, wherever life takes us, I’m yours. Completely.”
Theodore’s smile was the most genuine she’d ever seen it—unguarded, joyful, the smile of a man who’d finally stopped running from happiness and decided to embrace it instead.
“Then we’re going to have an extraordinary life together,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You and me. No more walls, no more secrets. Just this.”
“Just this,” she agreed, settling back against his chest as her eyes fluttered shut. “It’s more than enough.”
Epilogue
SIX MONTHS LATER
“Trapped discussing bonnet ribbons with Mama.” Peter appeared beside Cressida. “Surely that qualifies as cruelty.”
Cressida watched their mother laugh near the rose arbor, her hand resting on Mary’s shoulder. “She asked about your prospects because she cares now.”
“I suppose.” Peter grabbed a champagne flute from a passing tray. “Papa asked for my opinion yesterday. Without misattributing Cicero.”
“Progress.”
“He still mangled Aristotle at breakfast.”
The shift had been gradual. Three weeks ago, Lady Bardwell had asked about Cressida’s reading with genuine interest. Lastweek, she had offered practical advice about Ashmere’s tenants without criticism.
They were small things. Perhaps insufficient to erase years of neglect, but they were trying, and that counted for something.
Her father approached them now, moving with the careful precision of a man navigating unfamiliar territory.
“Cressida. Peter.” He nodded to them both. “Your grandmother’s garden is looking well.”
“It is,” Cressida agreed.
Lord Bardwell cleared his throat. “I wanted to ask—that is, the Duke has mentioned that you’ve been involved in the renovation. The tenant cottages, specifically.”
