Page 127 of Miss Prim and the Duke of Wylde
Locked in his arms, still lying half atop him, Meg huffed out a breath, tickling the hairs on his chest, then in a sultry tone, murmured, “I believe I know just how you can thank me—and Fate and the gods—over the next several decades.”
Drago smiled into the darkness. “I’ll be more than happy to pay my dues.”
As he lay there, content and happy, reality intruded, but already, Thomas’s demise was growing more distant. “I would never have imagined I could be labeled innocent, not on any count—or George or Harry, either—yet when it came to Thomas, in a sense, we were. We—none of us—ever had the slightest inkling he was as he was.”
“As I’ve already pointed out, that is in no way a reflection on you, George, or Harry. Because of the men you are—loyal and caring—your minds couldn’t encompass such a betrayal.” After a moment, she added, “Such darkness.”
He had to agree. “You’re right. Betrayal isn’t in our lexicon, and none of us have what one might term a dark side.”
“No, you don’t.” Meg tightened her arms about him and confidently stated, “You might be the Duke of Wylde, but your wildness is grounded in joy and love more than any other emotions. Joy and love and loyalty and caring.” She tipped her head up to look into his face. “Those are the emotions that define you.”
Joy and love. Loyalty and caring.Drago met her eyes and smiled. “I believe I can live with that.”
* * *
Later,once they’d settled again and were waiting for sleep to come creeping in, with Meg warm and snuggled against his side, Drago murmured, “I’ve always seen marrying as a step toward becoming a better man, specifically becoming the best duke I can be.” He glanced at Meg as she lifted her face to look into his. “I don’t want to reach the end of my life and look back with regret for what I might have accomplished. I might have inherited the title, but what I make of the position, what I achieve in this life as the Duke of Wylde, lies in my hands.” He smiled into her eyes, raised his head, and brushed a kiss to her forehead. “With you by my side, my perfect and fated duchess, the possibilities are endless.”
He was looking forward to the inevitable challenges.
Even as sleep drew nearer, they spent the next minutes exchanging ideas, visions of what might be possible that grew bolder and more innovative the longer they spoke and the more it sank in that their future was no longer hostage to inexplicable threats.
Meg grinned as she snuggled even closer. “There’s so much to look forward to.”
“Indeed.” The tone of Drago’s voice signaled his content.
Meg felt that content settle about them, enveloping and embracing them. She smiled and admitted, “In all my years of imagining the man I would marry and what my married life would be like, I never dreamed that I would find myself eager to race into the future with the notorious Duke of Wylde.”
Drago smiled and kissed her, and she held him to her as the kiss spun on, a simple statement that she was his and he was hers, now and through all that would come.
EPILOGUE
ELEVEN MONTHS LATER…
Drago lounged against the post at the end of their bed and watched his son and heir suckle at his mother’s breast. Despite quite overweening paternal pride, his gaze lingered more on the woman than the child.
Meg.She’d been radiant as a bride, radiant as a mother-to-be, and she was even more gloriously radiant now. The changes in her body had been fascinating, and the flush on her cheeks was utterly captivating.
She continued to hold his interest and his heart effortlessly. As if by right.
And perhaps that was, indeed, the truth. Even more so than before, he was convinced she was his perfect match, his perfect mate. His perfect duchess.
The past months had been spent finding their feet, socially and politically, and they’d met every challenge head-on and triumphed. They’d taken their first and definite steps toward crafting their roles, by mutual agreement and equally mutual determination positioning themselves to make a difference in steering the country to becoming one in which all children could thrive and prosper.
Meg’s inclination to assist foundlings had dovetailed with a need he’d found within himself to better the situation of children born to those less fortunate. Whether Thomas’s death had influenced him in that, he couldn’t say, yet he was now actively involved in finding ways to merge master and servants’ interests so that families at all levels of society could grow and build and better themselves.
To his mind, their quest could be stated simply as building a better future by setting the feet of the next generation on the right, most equitable path.
That had become their joint direction.
And now they had the beginning of their own personal endeavor in that regard.
His gaze shifted to the dark head of his son. The first installment in what he and Meg hoped would be a large family—one aspect of their future to which they were determined to devote themselves. In all its many iterations, family was important to both of them, and they were as one in their fierceness over protecting their own.
Even if he was not even a fortnight old.
“Woof!” Ridley, now fully grown, reared up to place his front paws on the coverlet beside Meg.
Meg frowned. “No, Ridley. You can’t play with him yet. He’s too small.”
