Page 67 of A Bride for the Icy Duke
“It feels sweet. I never had a place that felt much like home. Did you know that?” She had one final secret to reveal, and now seemed like the perfect moment in which to do that, held in the safety of his arms, confident and comfortable and secure. Lost in the glow of post-coital bliss. “The home I had with my father stopped feeling like home after my mother died—although my father was always good to me.”
His arm tensed a little around her waist. “I’m glad.”
“And when we moved to London, I made a place for myself there… but it never felt like home. Not like this house does.” She paused to give their surroundings an affectionate glance. It had felt like home before Alexander had even arrived home as her husband; with him now sharing her bed, it felt even more like home. “I never want to leave,” she told him.
His huff of breath stirred her hair. “Then I hope you never shall.”
Part of her wished she could tell him more---that she didn't just not want to leave, but that she had fallen so deeply for him she was certain it must be love. But she didn't dare. And this was enough of a victory. It had been hard-won, but he finally admitted to wanting her to remain here. Toallowingher to remain here. She would be his wife for the rest of their natural lives, and the relief she felt at such an open confession made her next admission easier still.
“You know,” she whispered, twisting in his arms so she could see his face. The sun had fully risen now, spilling past the curtains, and she could see every flicker across his expression in perfect clarity. “I spent part of my childhood not far from here.”
His fingers tightened on her hip. “In York?”
“Yes. Before we moved to London.” She traced a finger along his collarbone, feeling the steady thrum of his pulse beneath her touch. “My father's estate was only a few miles away. I spent large parts of it with my two bosom friends actually. We were inseparable as children.”
She could see the moment understanding dawned in his eyes, his brows drawing together as he studied her face with new intensity. “You lived nearby,” he murmured, almost to himself. “All this time...”
“It feels like a lifetime ago now,” she said quickly, offering a gentle smile. “I was just a girl. We left when I was still young, after my mother died.”
“I'm sorry.” His thumb brushed tenderly across her cheekbone. “That must have been terribly difficult.”
“It was. But Marie and Eliza---they made it bearable. We spent so much time together that summer before we left. I think that is why reconnecting with them this past year has meant so much to me. In some ways.” She nestled closer, feeling the warmth of his body seep into hers. “In others, it felt like coming home, I suppose. I used to play in these woods as a girl. There is a pond not far from here where I would sit and think—” She snapped her mouth shut almost immediately.
His hand stilled on her back, just for a moment. “A pond?” he began slowly. “I wonder if our paths might have crossed back then? It is a small community.”
Her heart stuttered. For a wild second, she almost told him everything—that she knew that pond, that she had been there on the worst night of her young life, that he had saved her. That the memory of his kindness had stayed with her through every lonely year in London.
But when she looked up into his face, she saw the way he gazed at her now; with desire, with affection, with the heat of a man for his wife. If she told him about that night, would he see that little girl instead? Would he remember Helena standing beside him, helping to comfort a child?
She didn't want to be that girl to him. She wanted to be this woman. His equal, his partner, hiswife.
And besides, she thought with a pang, he probably didn't even remember. It had been ten long years, and she had been just another frightened child in need of comfort. Surely that moment hadn't marked him the way it had marked her.
“Perhaps…” she said lightly, dropping her gaze to his chest. “Though I doubt you would have noticed a girl like me. I was rather… unremarkable.”
“I find that difficult to believe.” His voice was low, intimate. “I think I would have noticed you anywhere.”
The words made her chest ache with longing and regret in equal measure. Perhaps someday she would tell him. When they were older, when the shadow of Helena had faded completely, when he could hear about that night without pain.
But not now. Not yet.
“Well,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “you certainly notice me now.”
“That I do.” He rolled them so it was her body on his. Her hair fell across his face, and he brushed it back, looking up into her eyes. “And I intend to keep noticing you for the rest of our lives.”
A smile spread across Lydia’s face, and she leaned in to kiss him again. Slowly, luxuriously, as though she was tasting him for the first time and never wanted to stop.
They could be happy together. If they had the chance to be.
“I want to spend the entire day in bed,” she whispered.
“Then let’s stay in bed,” he breathed. “But I do insist on unlocking the door.”
“Oh?”
“We’ll need sustenance.”
She giggled as she slid down his body, and as he pushed inside her, she wondered how she had ever come to be this lucky.
