And yet, no matter what the future held, she would always have this.
A secret she could tuck into the quietest corners of her heart.
Memories of being loved so wonderfully, so completely, by a beautiful, honorable, and perfectly unattainable gentleman.
A man who was never meant to be hers.
Unless Alastair is right…
For all her practical thoughts on the matter, she could not help but dream—that their love was different. Special. That somehow, against all odds, it was powerful enough to overcome the dictates of society.
But now wasn’t the time for dreams—or worrying.
Because right now, Alastair’s mouth traced the curve of her face, his breath warm against her skin, and everything else melted away. She turned into him, seeking his lips, inhaling his essence, savoring the spicy heat of his kiss as if she could capture this moment and keep it forever. “Daisy,” he murmured against her lips. “My everything.” He rolled her onto her back. She widened her legs, her gown already gathered around her hips as he settled between her thighs.
Nothing else existed. Only Alastair. Only this feeling. Only this love, bared beneath an endless sky, blessed by the summer sun.
She thrust her hips up at the same time he shifted, growling into her neck, and the entire world disappeared.
Time whirled into infinity, impossible to contain. Willow branches draped around them, nature’s cover. Fresh grass spread across the ground as their bed.
“I love you, Alastair.”
Daisy needed him to know this.
Long after the two of them went their separate ways, he would know that he’d been fully loved—that he forever possessed her heart.
He moved one hand between them, fumbling at his falls.
She belonged to him. Nothing else mattered in that moment. This day, this hour, this second. It belonged to the two of them.
And so Daisy moved to help him, her fingers working the buttons free, one by one. The fabric parted, exposing glimpses of the familiar planes of his chest. Together, they tugged his shirt up and over his head, the garment falling somewhere beside them, forgotten.
She had seen him like this before—many times.
Alastair had taught her to swim in the secluded pond at the far edge of his father’s estate, where the water was cool and hidden from prying eyes. She had watched the sun gleam off his bare shoulders as he moved through the water with easy grace. Had even felt the smooth, warm texture of his skin beneath her fingertips when he had held her afloat, his strong hands steadying her, guiding her.
But here, now, in the hush of this moment, it felt different.
The intimacy of it—of undressing him—made her pulse quicken.
And as her gaze traced the familiar lines, she paused, trailing her fingertips from his shoulders to the rippling muscles of his abdomen.
He trembled.
No one knew him as she did. No one else had heard thequiet confessions of doubt, the fears he never dared utter to anyone but her.
Others only saw the heir to a dukedom—strong, privileged, untouchable. But she knew the truth. She knew the restless uncertainty that lived beneath his skin, the weight of expectations he feared he might never meet.
When he had admitted feeling inadequate, she had listened. She could not take away his worries—words alone would never be enough.
Someday, his actions—the choices he made—would reveal the truth of his own worth to him. He would rule the dukedom he had been born to inherit.
And he would do so not just with wisdom and power, but with heart.
Because that was who he truly was. Some day.
Not yet.
