Page 73 of My Dearest Duke

Thinking of the other before oneself.

“Yes, always yes.” She leaned forward, brushing his lips with hers. The light touch took her breath away, her body reacting with heat and need. He met her lips once more, lingering there, nibbling her lower lips softly, playfully, another request. She mimicked his movement, and as if her body already knew what to do, her arms reached up and wrapped around his neck. Her fingers tentatively slid into the soft hair at the nape of his neck, caressing up as she pulled him closer.

How was it possible to be so close to someone and still feel like they were too far away? Her thoughts scattered as his hands splayed across her hips and branded her with his warm touch. His mouth captured hers, teaching—ever the teacher—and caressing her. A flicker of his tongue against her lips made them part in shock. She could feel his smile rather than see it, as it spread across his lips before he flicked his tongue against hers softly, invitingly, a request.

His flavor enveloped her, sang a love song as she gingerly kissed him back. New and untried, she gave every drop of affection and love in her kiss, speaking through her actions rather than her words.

“Five seconds before I come through the door,” Morgan called, his voice shattering the fragile moment like a firework in a glass greenhouse.

Rowles pulled back reluctantly, then raised his voice in answer, “Fifteen.” He kissed her again, and he lingered a moment longer against her lips.

“Two,” Morgan countered from the hall.

Joan blinked, the spell dissipating as she met Rowles’s exuberant expression.

“One,” Morgan said.

“Zero?” Rowles replied, his tone teasing. He grasped Joan’s hand and held it tightly, moving to stand beside her.

Morgan walked in, watched them cautiously, and then relaxed. “I suppose there’s news you wish to impart?” He rocked on his heels, and while he still looked less than thrilled, the edge to his tone and demeanor was absent.

“It turns out you will be stuck with me for quite some time, but now as a brother-in-law.” Rowles gave Joan’s hand a squeeze as he turned to her and grinned.

“I see. I suspect you’ll next ask to procure a special license?”

Rowles chuckled. “No, I can survive three weeks for the banns, and it will keep the gossipmongers at bay. No need to raise suspicions by a hasty marriage.” He paused a moment, then held up a finger. “But I would like the banns to be read this week, so that we can marry sooner rather than wait an extra week.”

Joan couldn’t hinder the wide smile that stretched across her face. “And I have plenty of preparations to see to before the wedding. Besides, I think it might be helpful for my poor brother to have some time to adjust to the idea of my absence. I think he misses me already.” She turned to Morgan, giving him a playful smile.

He narrowed his eyes. “Would you prefer that I be happy to be rid of your annoying presence?”

“You can say all you want about it, but I know the truth,” she sang out. “You’ll miss me.”

“I see him often enough, so I imagine I’ll see you every bit as often.” But Morgan’s expression softened. “I am happy for you.”

“That means much to me.” Rowles nodded, his expression sobering. “Truly, it does. And I will—”

Morgan held up a hand. “I know. You needn’t affirm your affections. You’ve proven them.”

Rowles gave a nod.

“Now the question is, can I stomach being around the two of you long enough to win at whist? Or are you not up to the challenge?” Morgan replied.

“Since you lost the five games I challenged you to the other night, I don’t see you as much of a threat,” Joan replied as she turned to meet Rowles’s playful expression. Her heart danced with a happy cadence. Could a person be too happy? Was it possible? Yet as she considered it, a slight tension bloomed in her chest. She needed to talk with Rowles, explain how she helped at the War Office, and what the study and application of that knowledge that allowed her to do so. But as her brother set up the whist table, she turned to her betrothed and decided that tonight was not the night.

No. For now, she would celebrate the joy of returned love.

Tomorrow, or maybe the day after, she’d offer new love’s first potential challenge: the truth.

Twenty-three

Rowles awoke before dawn. Filled with anticipation and purpose, he set out to begin all the preparations for his upcoming wedding. The thought had a physical reaction of joy so powerful, it almost hurt. The sheer force of his emotions was unlike anything he’d ever experienced.

She had accepted him.

Joan would bear his name, his title, their children.

A smile tripped across his lips, refusing to be restrained as he made his way to the study to begin sending out the proper notifications.

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