“You elevate me, Mrs. Chatham.” He canted his head, searching the window, a faint scowl crossing his features. “Somehow, you make the air I breathe better, the food I eat more satisfying, the…” His scowl deepened, and he was clearly searching for what he’d say next. His great, wide shoulders shrugged with futility. “Love should be me elevating you, seeing to your needs. Not stating what you do for me.”
He’d said
“What about my needs perplexes you?” she asked with gossamer lightness.
His brows thundered. A roil of emotion showed on his face. “I want you, Mrs. Chatham—” he raked her from head to hem “—and I want to attend to your needs. All of them.”
The dragon duke was back.
She feared turning to ashes under his liquid-silver gaze. There was no mistaking the mix of affection and ardor gleaming from their depths. She had hoped for one more kiss when they really needed sexual congress—a lifetime of it.
And that still wouldn’t be enough.
“Your Grace…I…” She possessed a steady voice, but it fled her. She was turning into a puddle in the chair.
He withdrew something from his coat pocket. “Allow me this,” he said, unfolding what appeared to be a letter.
She couldn’t be sure because clear thinking fled her too. She couldn’t make a coherent sentence. Her tongue refused to work. Her legs wouldn’t move and her breasts were suddenly sensitive. Achy. Full. Desperate for his touch.
The duke’s grin was endearing and boyish a split-second before his resonant voice filled the room.
He paused to give her a smoldering look that curled her toes.
A glorious spangle jolted her. The chair squeaked from her rapid shifting because it was all she could do to let him finish. His gaze drifted up from the page.
“I want to be with you no matter what.” His firm tone spoke volumes.
“And my barren womb?” Her voice was whisper-thin.
He set the missive on the desk and dropped to one knee before her. He folded his warm, wonderful hands around hers.
“My letter addressed that. It says, in effect, that I don’t care because I want to you, body and soul, in my bed and in my home. That I accept you as you are.” He tapped his eye patch. “As I believe you accept me as I am.”
The gulf around her shattered. The duke had broken it into a thousand pieces, freeing her with his fervent, honest words. She was speechless.
His smile creased nicely. “Would you like to hear the rest of the letter?”
“There’s more?”
“There is. The last part references yesterday when you asked me if I trusted you to take care of me.”
She laughed, so light and giddy. “When we were compatriots in a game of patient and physic.”
“Exactly. Now, I suggest we play the game of duke and duchess.” His mirth blended with awe, changing his features. “I suggest we play it for a lifetime.”
She could hardly contain the elation swelling inside her. “Is that how your letter ends?”
He kissed her hands and his voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “It ends with ‘I love you with all my heart, Nathan.’”
“It’s a perfect letter.”
“It’s salacious. Hardly proper as marriage proposals go.”
Joy flared inside her. The duke was adorably well-mannered.
She bent over and kissed his hands. Her teeth grazed one of his fingertips and gave him the tiniest bite. “Salacious letters are the best kind. I expect a lifetime of them.”
He eyed her hungrily. “You shall.”
And that was how the Duke and Duchess of Richland enjoyed a lifetime of love…one letter at a time.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
About the Author: Gina Conkle writes Viking and Georgian romance. She grew up in southern California and despite all that sunshine, Gina loves books more than beaches and stone castles more than sand castles. Now she lives in Michigan with her favorite alpha male, Brian, and their two sons where she occasionally gardens and cooks.
She invites you to connect with her:
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