And bliss. So much bliss.
Another knock. Louder. “Your Grace?”
Alyssia pressed her forehead to his with a sigh. “If that door opens, I swear I will commit a crime that will place me on the same ship as your uncle.”
Giles chuckled, the sound captured across her skin. “Are you expecting someone?”
“Not a soul.”
Another knock. “Your Grace, you have—”
“Alyssia!” Annabelle’s voice rang out. “I brought your father and mother over. They are quite beside themselves!”
A cough and a throat cleared following that.
Alyssia’s eyes flew wide, meeting Giles’s.
Her parents were here?
“Oh heavens,” she whispered, shoving him and hopping to her feet, righting her skirts. “I look positively rumpled and ruined.”
“You look,” Giles murmured, lips still perilously close, “like a very satisfied wife.”
“Not helping,” she hissed.
“At least you are not wearingjustmy robe. It’s an improvement.”
This man was never going to let her forget for a moment her little mistake! It wasn’t as though she’d been dancing naked, for saints’ sake. Though, that wouldn’t be the worst idea for their first dance.
Alyssia! Get your act together! Your mother and father are here!
“Enter,” Giles called.
Alyssia inhaled a deep breath.
Her mother stepped inside first, followed by her father, and lastly, her friend, who wore a sheepish expression. Alyssia sent her a reassuring smile before glancing at her parents. Their gazes locked squarely on her and Giles. Heat flared along her collarbone. It was one thing to feel rumpled. It was quite another tolookit before one’s parents.
“Oh, Alyssia!” her mother cried, sweeping across the room with startling speed. She seized Alyssia’s hands, turning them this way and that. Then she clutched her daughter to her, nose pressed briefly to her hair, as if scent alone might confirm her well-being. “I was so worried.”
“Mama, I’m fine,” Alyssia assured, managing a smile and feeling a pinch of guilt. “Truly. How are you feeling?”
Her mother waved a hand. “Oh, perfectly well. It is merely your father who keeps insisting I rest until I drop dead.”
“Agatha,” her father warned quietly.
“What? It’s true,” she sniffed. “Far too overprotective. But enough about me.You, child—” Her mother’s attention flicked toward Giles, eyes narrowing as they traveled over the swelling on his face, the discoloration along his jaw, his half-shut eye. “Is this...?”
“Yes, Mother,” Alyssia replied softly. “It’s Giles. You remember him?” Saints preserve her, of course her mother remembered him, but nerves suddenly hit her hard.
Her mother softened at once, lips curving. “Giles. Wonderful to see you. I’m rejoiced that you are well and alive. You were truly missed these years.”
Giles inclined his head, every inch the not-so-noble duke she had fallen hopelessly in love with. “Thank you.”
Annabelle waved at Alyssia. “I’ll leave you to your reunion,” she said, though her eyes practically bellowedI will demand all the details later. Before Alyssia could respond, her friend dipped into a graceful curtsy—the picture of innocent propriety—and slipped out, closing the door firmly behind her.
Alyssia sighed.
“Winterbourne.” Her father stepped forward, extending a hand. “Welcome back.”
