Page 99 of The Beast of Beswick
“Always,” he whispered back.
Looking into his eyes, she moved, lifting her hips and sliding back down upon him. Astrid made love to her husband slowly, her eyes never leaving his—ice-blue claiming brilliant gold with every stroke, with every escalating heartbeat. And when his eyes closed and his hips rolled upward with frantic stabs as he neared completion, she moved to lift off him.
“No,” he whispered hoarsely, his hands seizing her hips and locking her into place.
“But, Thane, you don’t want—”
He took her lips and poured himself into her. “I want it all.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
Afterward, when they lay snuggled together and wrapped in plush toweling while snacking on grapes from their leftover meal, Thane felt his wife look up at him. He smiled. “Spit it out,” he said. “I can see those wheels in your brain turning like frantic little cogs.”
“You said you didn’t want children.”
“I thought I didn’t.”
Forehead creased, she pinned her lip between her teeth. “So what changed?”
Thane felt all his old fears rise up into his throat, and he drew a deep breath. Astrid loved him. His courageous wife wouldn’t turn tail and run. Either way, he already decided he wanted no secrets between them, and she had already trusted him with all of hers.
“I did, I suppose. I was so afraid of the future—any future—that I couldn’t appreciate the present and what I had in front of me. I was letting fear defeat me.”
She lifted up slightly to kiss him. “Love can be scary, too. Opening yourself up and being vulnerable to another person is frightening in itself. I’d locked my heart away for a long time, and until you, I didn’t know that I could trust anyone with it. It still terrifies me, knowing that it’s in the keeping of someone else.” She pursed her lips. “Are you still afraid?”
He shrugged. “Sometimes.”
Astrid wrapped her legs and arms around him. “Then, I shall have no choice but to surround you with as much love and passion and happiness as possible. I’m not going anywhere.”
“You’re so fierce,” he said, kissing her. “Have I told you how much I love that about you? Duchess of the indomitable spirit.”
“I aim to please my duke.” She nibbled his lower lip and drew his tongue into her mouth, feeling his length surge against her thigh. “That feels promising.”
“You are insatiable.”
She licked a hot path on his shoulder and bit gently. “For you.”
Thane turned them on the chaise and draped his body over hers. “You really think we have a chance?”
His wild, beautiful, sassy duchess winked. “Does a fish have gills?”
…
Many hours later, satiated and replete, long after Thane had carried them both to his bedchamber, Astrid propped herself up onto her elbows, watching her husband sleep as the morning sun washed over the sky. His sensuous mouth was parted, his thick, dark eyelashes with their gilded tips resting against the top of his cheeks. Silky sable hair curled into his face, one muscled arm tucked under his head. He looked too delicious for words.
He had loved her until her body felt weightless, until words had ceased to matter, and until conscious thought lost any meaning.
“Sleep, sweet prince,” she whispered.
Climbing out of bed as carefully as possible, she padded to her chamber and dressed in a front-fastening morning dress. She washed herself and cleaned her teeth with the water in the basin. Her hair was a mess, and without Alice, there was little she could do besides pin it into a loose knot before heading downstairs. The breakfast room was already set, and she met Fletcher in the hallway.
“Top of the morning to you, Your Grace,” he said in an entirely too jovial voice with a smart bow.
Astrid blushed. It seemed that there were no secrets at Beswick Park. If the duke and his duchess spent all night frolicking in the bathing pool, it would be common knowledge by morning.
“Good morning, Fletcher.”
“And might I inquire if His Grace is still abed?”
