aisy found him in the library with Hugo.
They were seated on an overstuffed leather chair, Hugo curled up against Sebastian’s thigh, a book opened in his lap. Her lack of grace in entrance—thrusting the door open with so much force that it rattled off the wall of shelving behind it—had his head snapping up. Their gazes clashed and held.
She was out of breath from racing to him, but it hadn’t seemed she could reach him quickly enough once the decision had been made. The sight of his handsome face filled her with homecoming.
He stood, his expression fettered. “Daisy.”
Hugo barked and leapt down to bound across the chamber and leap upon her skirts. She sank to her knees, receiving the dog’s greeting of unadulterated canine delight, never taking her gaze from Sebastian. He remained still on the opposite side of the library, dressed to perfection in black trousers, a white shirt, and a black brocade waistcoat, no jacket. There was something delicious about him in shirtsleeves.
“Sebastian,” she greeted him at last, standing once more.
“Have you come for your beast, then?” His voice was guarded, quiet.
“No.”
“No?”
She moved toward him, drawn by the magnetism he exuded, by the necessity of being near him once again. How had she kept her distance for so long? It seemed unfathomable to her now as she stopped before him, tilting her head back to consider his rugged beauty.
“No,” she said again. “I’ve come to debate your theory.”
He quirked a brow, managing to somehow look autocratic and lovable all at once. “My theory?”
She smiled. “A one thirty-second Your Grace. I feel confident that it’s only the act of opening one’s mouth, not even the forming of a ‘y.’ One thirty-second is quite a small fraction, as you know.”
His sensual mouth curved with an answering grin. “It’s very small indeed. You do have a valid argument.” He took her ungloved hands in his then, tangling their fingers together. “How are you and the babe, buttercup?”
“We’re both well. Better now.” She studied his beloved face. “And you?”
“It depends on the nature of your visit,” he said softly, squeezing her fingers.
“You said you were leaving in the morning.”
“I am.” He drew her closer, her skirts crushing against his trousers. “I’ve been overseeing improvements at my country seat from afar for too long. The time has come for me to devote my attention to the people and places who matter most to me.”
“You didn’t have to give up spying for me.” She withdrew her hands from his so that she could touch him, skim her palm over the whiskers stubbling his jaw. “I understand you were doing your duty.”
He pressed a kiss to her palm. “I gave it up for all of us.” His other hand went to her abdomen, flattening over the slight curve hidden beneath her corset. “I want to build a new life with you and the babe and at least half a dozen more if I’m lucky. I want Thornsby Hall to ring with laughter and love. Say you’ll come with me, my Daring Duchess. Tell me you want that life as much as I do.”
“Oh, my darling,” she said tenderly. Her heart could not possibly contain any more love than it did in this moment, standing in the library he’d made hers, as he spoke of their future and looked upon her as if she were an angel come to walk among men. As if she were the most precious and beloved person to him. “Of course I will come with you. I’ll go with you to Thornsby Hall or the other side of the world if you but ask. I love you exactly as you love me. As I love the sun on my face, the breath in my lungs, the green grass of spring, a faultless summer sky. I love you so much that I ache with it.”
She repeated his words back to him, weighty words, wonderful words. Words so powerful they made her knees weak. Her chest felt light. Her heart felt whole. This was where she belonged. He was hers, and she was his, and that mattered far more than duty or countries or distance or time.
“Do you forgive me, my love?” His eyes searched hers. “Can you forgive me for deceiving you and for doubting you?”
“Of course, my love. You were doing what the oath you’d sworn required you to do.” It had taken her some time and soul searching to realize that, but when she had, her decision had come easily. He had done his duty to the Crown, had been trapped by his loyalty and honor. Yet in spite of everything, he loved her, and she loved him. Love was enough to heal any wound. “No more talk of the past now. There is only the future for us, and I cannot wait to step into it with you.”
With a growl, he pulled her into his arms, his mouth descending on hers in a fierce claiming. Her hand slid into his thick, soft hair to cup the base of his skull, and she kissed him back with all the love and need burning within her. She opened to his tongue, and he tasted of brandy and Sebastian and decadence. Nothing had ever tasted better. Nothing had ever felt more right.
He tore his lips from hers, dragging them down her neck, nipping and kissing as he went. “I love you.” Another kiss. “I love you.” A silken glide of his tongue on her flesh. “I love you.” A nip of his teeth. “Christ, how I love you.”
Sebastian lifted her then and carried her to the overstuffed chair before sinking into it and pulling her onto his lap. Her skirts crushed around them, but she didn’t care as her mouth found his. They kissed and kissed and kissed until Hugo attempted to leap onto the chair alongside them.
Sebastian broke the kiss, his head falling back against the chair. “Control your beast, Duchess.”
She traced the bow of his upper lip, her finger lingering in the perfect groove of his philtrum. “Which beast?”
“Well-deserved,” he acknowledged, kissing her digit. “The furred one, madam.”
She gave Hugo a gentle nudge. “Shoo, Hugo. Your papa and I need to get reacquainted, and we don’t require your assistance.”
With a whine of protest, Hugo jumped to the Axminster.
“I’m not that mongrel’s papa,” he grumbled.
Daisy trailed her finger lower, over the hard line of his jaw before burying her face in the tempting expanse of his neck and kissing him there. “Is that why you were cuddling him when I first entered?”
“I don’t cuddle.”
His voice was a deep, delicious rumble against her lips, and he smelled so wonderful that she couldn’t resist flicking her tongue over his skin. She hummed her delight as she kissed his Adam’s apple next.
He groaned. “Daisy, love?”
She began working on the buttons of his shirt, removing them from their moorings as she pressed kisses down each newly revealed swath of his chest. Feeling wicked, she rocked against him, bringing his rigid length in contact with the part of her that ached the most. Ah, yes, that was heaven. She rolled her hips again, seeking more.
“Damn it, buttercup,” he groused, “I want you so much I’m going to explode, but your infernal beast is watching.”
She burst into laughter. “You had better take me to bed then, my love, and be quick about it. The Daring Duchess is ready to conquer her devilish duke.”
He scooped her up in his arms and rose in one swift motion, a smoldering smile curving his beautiful mouth. His lone dimple reappeared. “She already has, buttercup.”
She kissed him then because she couldn’t resist, her fingers continuing to work on his buttons. “Then perhaps it’s your turn to conquer her.”
Their mouths met again, and when their lips at last parted, the Duke of Trent carried his Daring Duchess to her chamber, and he thoroughly took his turn.