Page 113 of Wedded to the Duke of Seduction

Seraphina and Alice, who had joined them just in time to hear the news, added their congratulations.

The men slapped Leo on the back, their faces reflecting genuine happiness.

“A toast to the heir of Blackmere,” Noah proclaimed, always first to fill the silence. “May he, or she, inherit Marina’s talent and Leo’s fortune, rather than the reverse.”

Laughter rippled through the group at Noah’s characteristic irreverence.

“Careful, man,” Leo warned good-naturedly. “Or I’ll tell everyone about that incident with the ambassador’s daughter in Vienna.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Noah gasped in mock horror.

“Try me,” Leo challenged, his eyes dancing with mischief.

As their guests dissolved into playful banter, Marina slipped her hand into Leo’s, giving it a gentle squeeze. The simple gesture conveyed volumes between them—gratitude for this moment, for these friends who had become family, for the child growing beneath her heart.

That evening, after a dinner filled with laughter and shared stories, Marina retreated to their chambers ahead of Leo, who remained behind to share a final brandy with the gentlemen. The day’s excitement had left her pleasantly exhausted, her hand often straying to her still-flat stomach where their child grew.

She was brushing her hair at the dressing table when Leo entered, quietly closing the door behind him.

Their eyes met in the mirror, his dark with an intensity that still made her breath catch, even after months of marriage.

“Happy?” he asked, moving to stand behind her.

“Completely,” Marina replied, setting down her brush as Leo bent to press his lips to the curve of her neck. “And you?”

“Beyond words.” His hands settled on her shoulders, his thumbs caressing the sensitive skin where her nightgown left her collarbones exposed. “Thought I might demonstrate the extent of my happiness.”

Marina turned on her stool to face him, her hands reaching for the buttons of his waistcoat. “I believe a demonstration would be most welcome.”

Leo caught her hands, bringing them to his lips. One by one, he kissed her fingertips, his eyes never leaving hers.

“I never imagined this,” he confessed softly. “A wife I adore, a child on the way, my brother returned to us. Sometimes I fear I’ll wake and find it all a dream.”

“Not a dream,” Marina assured him, rising to press herself against him. “Though perhaps a story with a better ending than either of us dared write.”

Leo smiled against her lips as he lifted her into his arms and carried her to their bed. “A story still being written, my love. And this chapter promises to be memorable.”

Marina’s laughter turned to a soft gasp as Leo laid her among the pillows and followed her down, his body covering hers with familiar weight. His hands moved with deliberate slowness as he traced the curves he knew intimately over their months together.

“You,” he murmured, working at the ribbons of her nightgown. “are mine. All mine to devour.”

Marina arched into his touch as he parted the fabric, exposing her skin to the cool night air and his heated gaze. Pregnancyhad made her more sensitive, more responsive, and Leo had delighted in discovering the subtle changes in her body.

“Leo,” she breathed as his mouth followed the path his hands had blazed, her fingers tangling in his hair.

“My Marina,” he whispered against her skin, moving lower to press reverent kisses across her still-flat abdomen. “My wife. My duchess. My love.”

The tenderness in his voice undid her more thoroughly than any passionate declaration. Marina pulled him up to claim his mouth, her kiss conveying everything words could not.

“My wife,” he whispered, his voice filled with wonder. “The mother of my child.”

Marina reached up to touch his face, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw with tenderness.

“Our child,” she corrected softly.

Leo lowered his head to kiss her, his lips gentle against hers. There was no rush now, no desperate need to claim or possess. This was a celebration, a communion of souls who had found their way to each other despite every obstacle.

His fingers moved to the ribbons of her nightgown, untying them with careful patience. As the fabric parted, he brushed itaside, exposing her skin to his gaze. His hand hovered over her stomach, hesitating.

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