Page 111 of A Bride for the Devilish Duke
Emma moved harder, faster, chasing the edge with trembling thighs and clenched teeth. Every flex of her muscles, every desperate breath, drew them both closer. The room was thick with heat and scent and the sound of skin meeting skin.
Her fingers worked in frantic circles, hips grinding down to meet him in perfect rhythm, and when she came—sharp and sudden—she cried his name like a prayer.
He followed her with a gasp and a groan that ended in her name. His grip on her thigh tightened as he spilled into her. His body arched despite the pain, every broken inch of him alive beneath her.
They collapsed together. Her body sprawled across his chest as the weight of him inside her anchored her to the moment. Tohim.
Emma dragged her fingers lazily down the line of his ribs, then up again, feeling the uneven rise and fall beneath her palm.
Damien was the first to speak. “You, my lady, have bewitched me.”
“I have.” She nuzzled his throat, smug and sated. “And you so adore it.”
“God help me, I do.”
She smiled, pressing a kiss over his heart, then another to the scar just beneath it.
A new beginning. One marked not by revenge or ruin, but by sweat, laughter, and the quiet, perfect rhythm of two hearts finally at peace.
EPILOGUE
THREE MONTHS LATER
Sunlight dappled the road as it passed through the canopy of trees above. Birds trilled and flitted. The carriage rattled over the dirt road through Epping Forest.
“I think I envy Harry and Elsie, and their life here,” Emma sighed, “it seems so idyllic.”
“They are certainly untroubled by the ton out here. But then, the fact that Harry is believed dead also helps with that,” Damien replied.
“Soon we will be untroubled by it too. Is there such a thing as a ton in Boston, do you think?” Emma asked.
She sat next to him in the carriage. His wounds were healed, though he still needed the aid of a cane to walk. He enjoyed the feel of her body leaning against his as the carriage turned corners. Her scent filled the small space.
“I think there is a ton wherever there is wealth and power. But in Boston, we will not have to participate. We need not care about reputation or Regents or names. We will make our own fortune and be answerable to no one but ourselves,” Damien replied.
“I should like that. It will be a shame to see Redmane sold and leave our new family behind. But I think a fresh start would do us the world of good,” Emma beamed, “I think Papa would have approved too. He was quite the adventurer in his youth, you know.”
She was perfect for him. Always finding the bright lining in all the little predicaments they were met with, ever since the accidental burning of Wapping. For that’s what they were,little,now that no secrets remained between them and everything was tackled as husband and wife, as it ought to have been from the beginning.
Damien smiled in return. “He will be looking down on all of you, and rather satisfied I should think. Charles has become quite the lord of the manor, a very respectable Earl of Eastwick. Josie has married well to a brave man in Sir Thomas Donovan...”
“And Rosie runs rings around the London literary scene with her articles,” Emma finished. “They are convinced there is a brilliant young male writer of whom they know nothing. They all disagree as to who he is and where he comes from but all agree that his prose is excellent. She is loving the merry dance she is leading them!”
Damien chuckled. “Quite the merry dance.”
The carriage came to a halt and, looking out of the window, Damien saw that they had reached a modest cottage with white walls and a thatched roof. It was set back from the road beyond a winding path and behind a well-tended garden.
“I had forgotten how delightful this little house is. We used to come here with Mother when we were boys,” Damien recalled wistfully.
Harry appeared at the door, life bringing back color to his cheeks, though he walked with a cane, mirroring his brother. Elsie appeared beside him, flowers in her hair and a radiant glow on her face. Greetings between the two couples were warm and heartfelt. Elsie and Harry led Emma and Damien to the rear garden where tea was laid out on a large table of slate and wrought iron. After tea, Harry went into the house and returned with a sheaf of papers, an ink pot, and pen.
“To business so that we can enjoy the sunshine and the garden for the rest of the afternoon,” he said, brusquely, “this is my renunciation of the title of Duke and the name Fitzgerald. As you can see it is signed, witnessed, and notarized. It is official and legal. I am now Harold Potter, taking the name of my guardian angel and... I hope... soon-to-be wife.”
Elsie grinned, clasping Harry's hands in hers.
“Of course I will, though I never get tired of you asking.”
Damien nodded slowly.
