“Bloody dust,” he cursed, turning his head to the side. Gently laying her hand on his cheek, feeling the pulse of muscle and emotions he’d always done his best to hide, she turned it back. She turned time back. She turnedthemback, to that ballroom when they first met; two broken people finding their broken pieces in each other.
“Look at me, Ambrose.”
“I am,” he said hoarsely.
“Tell me that you love me.”
“Mara, I do. I do love you. Ihaveloved you.” He rested his temple against hers, his tears mingling with her own as they embraced. “I was a fool. Iama fool. That much won’t change. But my appreciation for you and the value that I place in you will. It already has. God knows I don’t deserve you, but I’m going to love you anyway. Yesterday, today, for all of our tomorrows... I will love you, Marabelle. When I am angry, I will love you. When I am sad, I will love you. And when I want to push you away... I will love you most of all.”
“Is that a promise?” she whispered, standing on her toes to press a soft kiss to his damp cheek as her heart swelled to twice its normal size.
“A promise, a vow.” He tenderly brushed a curl behind her ear. “A lifetime.”
“Then I shall accept your vow and make one of my own. I will love you, Ambrose, when I am happy. I will love you when I am tired. And when you try to push me away... I will love you most of all. Because we need each other. We always have.”
“We always will.”
“Yes,” she said, smiling through her tears. “We always will.”
And in the same house where their marriage had nearly come to an end, the Duchess and Duke of Southwick turned the page to a beautiful new beginning.
Epilogue
Several Weeks Later
Southwick Castle
Ambrose woke inthe middle of the night to find Mara missing.
As he always did these days—ever since their reconciliation in London—he reached for her before he’d even opened his eyes, searching for her warm, delectable little body to tuck in against his side. But when his arm kept reaching all the way to the far side of the mattress and there was no Mara to be found, he frowned and sat up, casting the blankets aside to pad barefoot through the blue room and into her bedchamber, a room now exclusively reserved for getting dressed.
Her frame made a long, slender silhouette under an ivory quilt. Her hair a spill of vibrant red on a plain white pillowcase. She stirred when he whispered her name, then rolled onto her side and opened one eye when he spoke it again.
“What are you doing in here?” he asked.
“You were snoring,” she said before muffling a yawn. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“The devil I was,” he said, deeply offended. “Dukes don’t snore.”
“This duke does.” A smile peeked through her sleepiness. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”
“Mara,” he said suddenly as a memory, real and yet not real, tickled at the corner of his subconscious. A memory of this room, and lilacs, and Mara naked in her bed. “Are you still wearing your nightdress?”
Her lovely pink blush gave her away. “I was hot.”
She might have been hot, but he was already on bloody fire even before he joined her in the bed. The mattress sagged beneath his weight as he straddled her, stretching her slim arms above her head and nuzzling the sensitive space between her jaw and the curve of her neck.
“Mara, my love,” he said between kisses.
“Hmmm?” she moaned, raking her fingers through his hair when he released his hold on her wrists in order to cup her breasts and lift a taut nipple to his mouth.
“I don’treallysnore, do I?”
“Like a bear.”
That earned her a harmless smack on her bottom as they changed positions; her on top and him on the bottom. After that, there were no more questions for quite a while and when their lovemaking had concluded, they remained in Mara’s bed, their limbs entwined and their hearts beating in unison.
“You know,” she said quietly, “I never asked.”
