“Francesca—”
“Let me finish.” She touched his face, tracing the scar beneath his eye. “I never expected to feel at home anywhere again after Violet died. London certainly wasn’t home—it was a cage. But here, with you and Eloise, I finally understand what home means.”
He pulled her close, pressing his forehead to hers. “Ye’ve given me just as much, lass. Maybe more. Ye’ve shown me that strength and softness can coexist. That lovin’ someone doesnae make ye weak—it makes ye stronger.”
“We make each other stronger.”
“Aye.” He kissed her softly. “That we do.”
That evening, they put Eloise to bed together, a ritual that had become sacred to all three of them. Declan carried the sleepy child to her chamber.
Eloise’s eyes were already drifting closed. “I love you, Mama. I love you, Da.”
“We love ye too, lass,” Declan said softly. “More than anythin’ in this world.”
They stood in the doorway for a moment, watching her sleep, the kittens curled at her feet and Bluebell’s basket nearby.
“She’s ours,” Francesca whispered. “Truly, completely ours.”
“Aye.” Declan’s hand found the small of her back. “She is.”
They retreated to Declan’s chambers, their chamber—now theirs—closing the door on the world outside. Francesca turned to find Declan watching her with an intensity that made her breath catch.
“What?” she asked.
“Just lookin’ at ye. Thinkin’ how lucky I am.”
“I’m the lucky one.”
“Nay.” He crossed to her, his hands settling on her waist. “I’m the man who gets to wake beside ye every mornin’. Who gets to watch ye with our daughter. Who gets to call ye mine.”
“Declan—”
He silenced her with a kiss, slow and deep and full of promise. His hands roamed her back, finding the laces of her gown with familiar ease.
“Let me love ye properly,” he murmured against her lips. “Nae rushed. Nae frantic. Just… slow. The way ye deserve.”
“Yes,” she breathed. “Please.”
They undressed each other with deliberate care, taking time to touch and taste and explore. When he lifted her onto their bed, she pulled him down to her, needing his weight, his warmth, the solid reality of him.
“I love ye,” he said, his hands tracing patterns on her skin. “Every day I love ye more, and I didnae think that was possible.”
“I know the feeling.” She arched into his touch. “You’ve become essential to me. Like breathing.”
He kissed her deeply, positioning himself between her thighs. “Tell me what ye need, lass.”
“More. More of you. ”
He entered her slowly, watching her face, memorizing every expression of pleasure. They moved together with a rhythm they’d learned over weeks of loving, bodies perfectly attuned to each other.
“God, ye feel perfect,” he groaned. “So perfect.”
She wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him deeper. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
“Never.” He increased his pace, one hand sliding between them to touch her where they joined. “Come for me, love. Let me feel ye.”
Her release crashed over her, and she cried out his name, her body tightening around him. He followed moments later, burying his face in her neck as he found his own completion.
