“I know precisely the sensation.” He crossed the room to where she stood by the window and slipped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin lightly upon her shoulder. “I keep expecting to wake and discover that you were never real—that I invented you to escape my own loneliness.”
“I am quite real, I assure you.”
“Prove it.”
She turned within his embrace and kissed him—slowly, thoroughly, with all the love and longing she had been holding in check. When she finally drew back, his eyes were dark with feeling.
“Convinced?” she asked.
“Nearly,” he murmured, his voice rough. “I may require further evidence.”
“That can be managed.” Serena took his hand and placed it over her heart, letting him feel its quickened rhythm. “This is real, Nathaniel. I am real. We are real. And nothing—not society, not scandal, not anything—will take this from us.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
He kissed her again, softer this time, before reluctantly pulling away. “We should—there is a dinner prepared. The servants will expect us to—”
“The servants may wait.” Serena’s voice was calm but resolute. “I have waited so long to be alone with you—truly alone, without fear or restraint. I do not wish to delay that any longer.”
Something flared in his eyes. “Serena—”
She rose on her toes and spoke quietly, her words meant for him alone. “Take me upstairs, my husband. Let us seal what we have promised.”
He needed no further encouragement.
***
Later—much later—Serena lay in the great bed that was now hers, her head resting against Nathaniel’s chest, his fingers tracing languid patterns along her bare shoulder.
“That was—” she began.
“If you sayadequate, I shall be gravely offended.”
Serena laughed, the sound muffled against his skin. “I was going to say extraordinary. But if you prefer adequate—”
“Extraordinary will suffice,” he said, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “You are extraordinary, Serena. In every possible way.”
“Flatterer.”
“Truth-teller.” His arms tightened around her. “I have never been happier than I am at this moment. I want you to know that.”
“Not even when you were a carefree second son, unburdened by responsibility?”
“Especially not then. I was aimless—drifting through life, taking what pleasures presented themselves and avoiding anything that demanded effort or commitment.” He fell silent for a moment. “Losing Edward taught me what I lacked. But it was you who taught me to believe I could have it.”
Serena propped herself on one elbow and looked down at him. In the candlelight, his features were softened, his expression open in a way she had seldom seen.
“What was it you lacked?” she asked quietly.
“Connection. Purpose. Love.” He reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “All the things that give life meaning—and all the things I was too fearful to claim.”
“And now?”
“Now I have them. Because of you.” His thumb traced her cheekbone with reverent care. “You gave me back my family, Serena. You taught me how to be present—how to love without fear, how to build something real instead of hiding from all that mattered.”
“You did the work yourself,” she said softly. “I merely… encouraged.”
