Mina woke with sunlight warming her face, and Nick’s long, hard body warming her everywhere else. She moaned and pressed closer, her back to his chest, his arm wrapped protectively around her.

Then realization crashed in.

She was in an Enderley guest chamber. In Nick’s bed. Emma would be up soon to light the fire and bring a breakfast tray.

Nick was still asleep. The gentle rumble of his breath warmed the back of her neck. She lifted his arm and slid as slowly as she could out from beneath his hold.

“Where are you going?”

“The sun’s come up. Emma will be here soon.”

Nick touched her, dragging his fingers across her skin. Just firmly enough to make heat shimmer down her back and pool between her thighs. “You’re still worrying too much about what others think.”

“It’s more a matter of what they’ll feel. Emma will be scandalized if she finds us like this.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want that.” He removed his hand and shifted on the bed.

Mina looked back to find he’d sat up, letting the sheet fall low on his stomach, his hands folded behind his head. Even with the bandages on his arm and face, he looked like a very self-satisfied demigod. Black hair tumbled in tossed curls and tangled waves, almost to his shoulders. The sun lit up his eyes and gilded the chiseled muscles of his chest and arms.

“At least kiss me before you go,” he said, reaching out one hand to cover hers.

He was the moon and she was the waves. His magnetic pull was irresistible, but she forced herself to resist offering more than the briefest brush of her mouth against his. “If I kiss you again, I won’t want to go.”

He leaned in and captured her lips again. “That is rather the idea.”

Mina got out of bed, scooped her clothes from the floor, and felt Nick’s gaze watching her every move as she dressed.

He surprised her by rising from bed too and bending for a fresh pair of trousers from the trunk he’d brought from London.

Mina gulped at the sight of him. He was sculpted on a different scale from other men, not just his height, but the thickness of his arms, his thighs, his everything.

“You sure you want to go?” He shot her a mischievous grin over his shoulder as he pulled on a shirt.

“Sometimes want and must are worlds apart.”

“Indeed.” He came close and refastened the top three buttons on her blouse that she’d misaligned in her haste. “There’s some business I must attend to as well before we head back to London.”

Mina reached for the buttons of his open shirt, making sure to fasten them correctly. “Please tell me you’re not going to confront the Lyles again.”

“God, no. Though I can see the sense in mending relations with some of the families in the village.”

“Can you?” Mina was quite prepared to leave Enderley and only come back rarely. Late into the night, she and Nick had talked of the future they wanted. He’d agree that any Enderley staff who wished to could be employed in their future London household, or stay behind and maintain the property for when they were in residence. Nick no longer spoke of emptying or renting the estate out.

“I know this house means a great deal to you.”

It had. Always. But it was just a house. Nick was her heart. She could live without Enderley, but she couldn’t live without him.

“If we refurbish, rebuild parts, knock down a few walls.” He gazed around the guest chamber as if he could see through the wallpaper to the bones of the castle. “Maybe we can chase the ghosts away and make something of our own.”

“We needn’t decide today.” Mina slid her hand up to his face, traced the hard stubbled edge of his jaw. “After all, we have a wedding to plan.”

“Lavish.”

“Modest.”

“I’m thinking Westminster Abbey.”

Mina choked on a bubble of laughter. “I’m thinking the village church at Barrowmere with Vicar Pribble officiating.” She lifted onto her toes, leaned into him, and kissed his chin. “You did say I could have anything I want.”

He sighed dramatically. “As you wish, Duchess.”

Nick waited a beat after the servant answered the door. The housemaid was waiting for him to offer a calling card, but he had none. He endured her shocked expression a moment longer, musing that it was probably for his bandaged face rather than his scar and odd-colored eyes.

“The Duke of Tremayne.” It was the first time he’d announced himself formally in such a manner, and it still felt unspeakably odd. Not as miserable as the day four months ago when his father’s friend had come to Lyon’s to inform him of his bad luck. But uncomfortable. Ill fitting. He wondered if he’d ever be at ease in his father’s shoes.

“Right this way, Your Grace.” The maid led him to a prettily decorated sitting room with colorful watercolors dotting the walls and lace doilies under every item on the mantel.

He was surprised to find that nothing screamed wealth or ostentation, but each surface spoke of comfort and family. Small miniatures of children and pets sat in silver and polished bronze frames on various surfaces in the room. He recognized the face of young girl. She had the same notch in her chin as Lady Lillian.

“She was nine when that was painted,” Lady Claxton said as she entered her drawing room. “Wouldn’t sit still to save her life. We had to bribe her with the promise of a new toy for the artist to finish his work.”

Nick turned to face the old woman and was surprised to see none of the ill will he expected in her eyes.

“I heard of the burning of the Tudor tower. Looks as if you played the hero too well.”

“It’s nothing.” Nick gestured toward his bandage, marveling at how odd it felt to have someone stare at the opposite side of his face.

“Have you come to apologize, Tremayne?” She gestured toward a chair for him before settling onto a well-worn settee. “It’s true I don’t take kindly to my guests engaging in brawls when I’ve invited them to a ball, but I noted that you did avoid outright fisticuffs.”

“Did I not offer apologies on the evening of the ball, Lady Claxton?” Nick hadn’t come about the incident with the younger Lyle, but he was content to take his share of the blame if it would smooth the way for his real purpose in visiting. “If not, accept them now.”

The older woman nodded and sniffed, as if that would do.

“The ball isn’t why I’ve come.”

“No?” She arched a silvery brow. “Shall I ring for tea while you tell me?”

“Not necessary, my lady. This won’t take long.” Nick shifted the edge of his chair and thought best how to broach the topic. “I would like your help.”

“Beg your pardon?” The lady rose an inch and arched back in surprise. Then she narrowed one eye at him. “You’ve not visited any of the best families since arriving at Enderley and you’ve refused two invitations to dine at Claxton Hall. Now you wish for my help?” She lifted her lorgnette to examine him. “What’s gotten into you, Tremayne?”

“Would you believe me if I said love ?” Nick chuckled.

“Love?” A hint of a smile played around her lips, and then she sighed. “You don’t mean my Lillian, do you?”

“I do not.” Nick tugged on his ear, casting his gaze to the carpet. “I’ve asked Miss Thorne to be my wife.”

She tilted her head, as if she wasn’t certain she’d heard him. Nick waited, watching her frown ease and her eyes widen as understanding dawned.

“The steward’s daughter? Your steward?”

“My future duchess.”

“She’s not a nobleman’s daughter.”

“She’s perfect.”

For a moment she looked forlorn, and she cast her gaze around her drawing room, as if seeking an answer. “You’re the Duke of Tremayne,” she finally said. “You’ll do as you please.”

“Nothing will please me more than marrying her, of that I can assure you.”

She lifted her spectacle once more. “You do seem in earnest, Your Grace.”

Nick smiled. The noblewoman wasn’t pleased, but she was taking the news far better than he’d imagined on the carriage ride to Claxton Hall.

“I offer you felicitations and blessings, Tremayne, though I suspect you don’t wish or need them. Or anything else from me.”

“Actually, I do need something from you, Lady Claxton.” Nick swallowed his pride. “I want Barrowmere society to accept Mina with open arms.”

The old woman’s brows shot up like two silver doves taking flight.

“Miss Thorne is well known within the village, and well liked, Your Grace.”

“She’ll be a duchess, Lady Claxton, and while I suspect she has a better notion of how to go about being one than I know how to be a duke, I want a promise from you that she will be accepted. Warmly.”

“Others will think what they please.”

Now it was Nick’s time to narrow an eye. The noblewoman knew very well that others in Barrowmere society looked to her to lead the way.

Lady Claxton tapped her cane on the floor and sighed. “Very well. For my part, and my granddaughter’s, we shall welcome Miss Tho—” She stopped herself before continuing on. “Your duchess into our circle. Shall we start with a dinner at Claxton Hall next week?”

“Thank you.” Nick meant the words. Speaking them seemed to salve over a bundle of worries inside him.

They shook hands as Nick departed, and the old lady hung on for so long that Nick offered her a smile.

“You do know what you’re about, Tremayne? London society will be more of a challenge than Barrowmere.”

“I’m always up for a challenge, Lady Claxton.” Letting go of even the portion of disdain he’d held for aristocrats like Lady Claxton, who’d been cronies of his father, felt extraordinary. Liberating. An echo of that moment he’d finally stepped out of that damnable tower.

The blackened husk of the structure came into view as the carriage drew into Enderley’s drive. Nick drew in a sharp breath, expecting the usual wave of revulsion. But it didn’t come.

All he truly felt was anticipation, an eagerness to see Mina.

Memories of what he’d endured in the tower didn’t matter. They were just a pile of stones. Like the house and the stables and every structure on the estate.

She mattered. Only Mina and the life he wanted to build with her.

He bounded up the steps, burst through the front door, and headed straight for her office. Then he heard her voice and his heartbeat sped. The sound of conversation floated out from the sitting room where she’d tended his wounds.

Inside the room, he found her approaching the threshold with Mrs. Shepard, the lady he’d met at the vicarage. The one who’d harangued him about attending a country dance.

“Mrs. Shepard came to discuss details for the Christmas dance,” Mina told him.

He liked that her breath quickened at the sight of him, just as his heart had begun racing the minute he spotted her.

“I do hope to see you there, Your Grace.” The older woman skimmed her gaze over his bandaged face, a heartwarming look of concern shadowing her eyes.

“When is it, again?” Nick’s chief memory of that day at the vicarage was of Mina, sitting in the corner, watching his every move. He’d spent most of the hours trying not to turn and gaze back at her.

“The Sunday before Christmas, Your Grace.”

“What do you think, Miss Thorne?” Nick turned to Mina, and his skin instantly warmed. Would it be this distracting to be near her when they were wed? “Will the ballroom be finished by then?”

“Our ballroom?” She let out a little gasp that made his pulse jump and his groin tighten.

“Yes, our ballroom.” He did like the sound of that.

“I believe so.” Mina glanced at Mrs. Shepard and then back at him, lips parted, dimples flashing as she broke into a smile. “Would the village planning committee like for us to host the dance here at Enderley, Mrs. Shepard?”

“Why, yes,” the older woman sputtered. “Yes, of course.”

Nick waited impatiently while Mina saw Mrs. Shepard out. This desperate anxiousness was new. He was a man who’d spent years relishing his solitude, pretending loneliness never touched him.

Mina made him see that he hadn’t loved being alone so much as he’d feared allowing anyone close. Now he craved her after five minutes of separation. How had he ever imagined they could live apart?

The sweetest bit was knowing that even when they were apart, she’d return.

When Mina stepped into the sitting room, he swept her into his arms and kissed her.

She didn’t hesitate, didn’t hold anything back, and that was the best part of all.

“Thank you,” she said when he’d set her back on her feet. “For offering the ballroom. It’s as if you’ve given the whole village an early Christmas gift.” She ran her hand down his chest, hooking her fingers inside his waistcoat. “Puts me in mind of what manner of gift one gives a duke for Christmas.”

“You,” he told her without a moment’s hesitation. “All I want is you.”

“Wherever we are?”

“To tell you the truth, Duchess, when you’re this close to me”—he pressed a hand to her lower back, pulling her body flush against his—“I don’t notice where I am.”

“Me neither.” She lifted onto her toes, brushed her cheek against his, and whispered in his ear. “As long as we’re together.”

Nick tangled his hand in her hair, tipped up her face, and bent to kiss her. But he hesitated, whispering against her lips, “That’s the only place I truly want to be.”