Page 58 of Duke of Treason (Rogues from War 3)

“Hm?” He rumbled, his sensuous lips feathering hers.

“I love you.” He stopped short. “I do not think I have ever stopped loving you either.”

The confession shook him to the core. “Annabel.” Was all he could mutter.

Frozen, he still looked at her.

She broke the silence in a very Annabel-like way. “Now, come take me, Romulus.” She arched into him. “Before I explode with want.”

“Passionate hellion!” He rasped before granting her wish, which mirrored his.

They celebrated their lost and re-found love with their bodies and their souls.

EPILOGUE

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Three years later

Romulus and Annabel sat in the nursery with their children. Their eldest, Claire, two, played on the floor, attempting her first full sentences. Six-month-old Christian lay in the cot, while his father enticed him with a ball, chubby arms stretched to touch it.

Those had been idyllic years. The Duke and Duchess of Blackthorne, together with their infants lived in the castle, where Annabel insisted in continuing practising her skills. Not that her husband complained. He took full advantage, joining her when he had the time.

She had been with child almost a year into their marriage, despite Romulus’ predictions. Christian was the recent addition. Looking at Romulus, Annabel could hardly believe in his transformation from the brooding soldier to proud father. He played and laughed with the children carefree.

Well, he also played and laughed with her, but that was another thing entirely.

Occasionally, the family travelled to London to enjoy the season. But she liked most when they visited her parents in their estate. Viscount and Viscountess Wolston dotted on their grand-children.

Aunt Charlotte visited very often only to spoil her grand-niece and grand-nephew in the worst possible way. Nobody dared call her on it.

Many new books had come to the library, especially the ones the Duchess intended to read to her young. They abounded in fairy-tales, knights errant and heroic deeds.

Though Napoleon did not pose a threat anymore, Romulus and his secret group continued to monitor their country to prevent further treason. Annabel’s help was precious for them, because she had revealed to be a cunning strategist. She prided herself in it and never missed the glint of admiration in her husband’s murky eyes.

They helped put the small ones to bed and left the nursery.

“Come.” Her husband’s deep voice sounded behind her, as his hand found the small of her back. “I have a surprise for you.” His eyes expressed the worst of bad intentions.

“A surprise?” She followed anyway. “What are you up to?”

“Wait and see.” He answered simply while they headed apparently to the armoury.

As he opened the door for her, the hearth exhibited a big fire. After stepping inside, she froze, her hand coming to her mouth, astonished.

“I told the carpenter we needed a special device for training.” He said, as he laced her from behind and nibbled her ear.

His caress and the sight of the… device threw her in a cauldron of heat.

In one corner of the armoury lay an angled platform which had the exact size of a bed and was all cushioned.

“Oh, Romulus.” She murmured with undisguised suggestiveness.

“We can have it in the Duchess’ chambers if you think this is too exposed here.” He completed, hands roaming all over her.

She tilted her head back to him. “Oh, frankly, Romulus.” Her arm went backwards around his neck. “We use the dungeons quite often, don’t we?”

“Hm.” He rumbled. “The last time you asked me to chain you to the column, you nearly finished me up, I must say.”

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