Scovell rose and came around his desk. He offered his hand, and Damian shook it. “My very best to you and your bride-to-be.”
“Thank you.”
Donning his hat, Damian left Horse Guards. It was a perfect late summer day. The green leaves on the trees in the avenue were stirred by a fresh wind. Life had taken quite a turn. And he was more than ready for it.
Epilogue
Longview Hall, Berkshire, November
The moon shonein through the break in the curtains. Beneath the soft candlelight of the chandelier in the earl’s bedchamber, Damian shed his clothes while Diana watched him. She craved him, savored every part of him. He was beautiful, like a Greek god one found in marble statues, with his strongly muscled shoulders and broad torso tapering to a slim waist, narrow hips and long, powerful legs. She curled her fingers into her palms, wanting to trail them over his smooth, warm skin, to trace the contours of the bones, sinews, and muscles, and feel the rasp of dark chest hair, which narrowed down beneath the waist of his pantaloons.
He undid the buttons and stepped out of them. She caught her breath at his already burgeoning erection. Trembling, she tucked her hands between her thighs, where the damp heat of her own body already throbbed with intense desire.
Seated on the bedroom chair, he stripped off his stockings.
Penny had been her bridesmaid—Diana had been too sad to ask her when she’d expected to marry Montgomery—and Damian’s brother, Luke, had served as the best man at their wedding ceremony held in London at St. Georges. Her father’s mansion in Grosvenor Square had hosted the reception. She thought her father had looked relieved when she’d said goodbye before leaving with Damian for Longview Hall, but he’d had acharming lady he’d been courting for the past month on his arm, so perhaps he wouldn’t be lonely in that big house.
She and Damian could not decide where to spend their honeymoon, in the end deciding they just wanted to be together at home. When the war ended, he promised to take her to Paris.
They spent the following days and nights loving each other, in bed and out, until they were claimed by exhausted sleep. She loved to wake and find him beside her. It stirred her passion all over again and rivaled his. According to Damian, they were a match made in heaven.
This morning, they rode out as usual after breakfast through the woods to the river and beyond. She admired his strong, well-shaped hands, steady on the reins, remembering how magical they could be on her skin, and laughed when his big, enthusiastic, and rather beautiful dog, Max, raced along behind them.
Damian had taken her again, leaning back against a sturdy oak. The loud rush of the river in her ears failed to drown out her cries as his hands cupped on her bottom and raised her to meet his thrusts and she coiled her legs around his waist.
Afterward, she giggled weakly and confessed to being unable to find the energy to ride home. “Perhaps we can live here in the forest and eat berries,” she suggested.
“Berries? I need a steak. And I prefer our bed at night, with you beside me, and preferably under me, my love.”
She flushed at his bold language. But she loved it. Loved everything about him. This was what she had always known she wanted deep down but had never expected to have. A husband who truly loved her, who desired her, and knew how to satisfy her.
She pushed the thoughts away as Damian walked naked over to the bed. “Why are you wearing this?” He bent overher, fingering the froth of lace at her breast. “The nightgown is beautiful, but you’re more beautiful without it.”
With one swift motion, he pulled the delicate fabric over her head and tossed it onto a chair.
She gasped. “Nuns in Belgium made that lace. It cost Papa a fortune.”
“Made with passionate frustration, I imagine. I shall buy you more. You can wear them when our hair turns gray, and we are afflicted with rheumatism. Until then, we sleep naked.”
The heat in his chocolate-brown eyes thrilled her, heavy lidded with amorous intent. He joined her on the bed, easing her closer, burrowing his face into her long tresses.
“I love the sweet smell of your hair,” he murmured, his warm, wine-scented breath on her neck. “And the taste of you.” When he kissed her passionately, her breath caught, then he pressed his lips to the pulse in her throat. Shaping her breasts in his hands, he bent to lick a nipple, circling it gently with a finger, then caught it in his teeth and suckled. Diana moaned. When the nipple became sensitive and hard, he moved to the other one.
His hand swept up her thigh, settling between her legs. He thumbed her sensitive bud and slipped a finger inside her. She writhed helplessly as her body coiled, sending her into paroxysms of exquisite pleasure.
“Come for me, darling.”
She murmured some inarticulate reply as a heightened feeling, friction, and craving built within her.
*
Damian’s breath expelledfrom his lips as Diana took him in her hand and fondled him. She was beautiful, this extraordinary wife of his. That he might have lost her made him catch his breath, even now. She was so precious, it sometimes made himfearful. What if she became pregnant? Women suffered a great deal in childbirth. But all thoughts faded as she slid her hands up and down his cock and fondled the hooded head. Diana was an instinctive lover. She already knew just how to please him. Loving her was different each time. She could always surprise him. If God granted them a long life, he would never grow tired of being with her, loving her.
He groaned and placed his hand over hers before the building sensation became too much to bear. “Best not, my love.”
Damian took control again before it ended there. He framed her face with his hands and his mouth covered hers with a deep kiss, their tongues meeting in a sensual dance. He drew away and, parting her legs, moved over her, breathing in the womanly scent of her arousal. Then he entered her with a swift push and a moan of pleasure.
They moved as one, his thrusts slow and deliberate, while he savored every sensation, every kiss, every cry of pleasure from her lips.