Page 225 of Courting the Wrong Duke

His father had believed love gave him the right to decide the shape of other people’s lives.

William wanted to spend his own discovering what shape theirs might take together.

Rosalind’s smile turned suspicious. “You are thinking too much.”

“I have been told I do that occasionally.”

“By whom?”

“My wife.”

Her expression changed at the word, softening for just a moment before her smile widened.

William immediately decided he would like to say it several thousand more times. “May I kiss you?”

Rosalind gave the question exaggerated consideration. “Is that in the manual?”

“I believe we have reached the chapter where improvisation is encouraged.”

“In that case, I suppose you may.”

William kissed her.

Warm sunlight fell across them, and somewhere nearby Gabriel cheered before a muffled sound suggested Isabella had elbowed him into silence. Rosalind laughed against William’s mouth, and William found he could not resist kissing her again.

He had spent years believing the surest way to remain himself was to belong to no one.

Yet with Rosalind’s hand in his and her laughter still warm against his lips, William had never felt more entirely himself.

And whatever came next, they would meet it together.

THE END?