Page 101 of A Bargain with the Rakish Duke
After a flurry of hugs, congratulations, and well wishes from their friends and family, Kenneth and Beatrice managed to extract themselves from the group and hail a carriage. As they settled into the plush seats, Kenneth pulled her close, his arm wrapping around her shoulders.
“I can’t believe it,” he murmured, his free hand coming to rest on her stomach. “A baby. Our baby.”
Beatrice smiled, leaning into his embrace. “It feels like a dream, doesn’t it? A wonderful, beautiful dream.”
Kenneth pressed a kiss to her temple, his lips lingering on her skin. “A dream come true, my love. You’ve already made me the happiest man on earth, and now, you’ve given me the greatest gift of all.”
As the carriage wound its way through the streets of London, the couple sat in contented silence, basking in the glow of their newfound joy. When they finally arrived at their townhouse, Kenneth helped Beatrice down from the carriage, his hands lingering on her waist a moment longer than necessary.
They entered the house, the servants greeting them with polite nods and curtsies. But Kenneth barely noticed, his attention solely focused on the woman by his side. As soon as they were alone in the privacy of their bedchamber, he pulled Beatrice into his arms, his lips capturing hers in a searing kiss.
Beatrice melted into him, her hands sliding up his chest to wrap around his neck. She poured all her love, all her joy andexcitement, into the kiss, her body molding to his in a way that felt both familiar and thrillingly new.
Kenneth’s hands roamed over her back, his touch igniting sparks of desire beneath her skin. He walked her backwards until the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed, then lowered her gently onto the soft mattress.
Breaking the kiss, he hovered over her, his eyes dark with passion and adoration. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered, his fingers tracing the delicate curve of her cheek. “So strong, so brilliant, so utterly perfect.”
Beatrice’s heart swelled, her love for this man threatening to overwhelm her. “I’m only perfect because I have you by my side,” she murmured, cupping his face in her hands. “You make me better, Kenneth. In every way possible.”
He captured her lips again, the kiss deep and full of promise. His hands began to wander, skimming over her curves with a reverence that made her shiver. Beatrice arched into his touch, her own hands exploring the hard planes of his back, the rippling muscles that flexed beneath her fingers.
Lost in each other, in the heady rush of love and desire, they took their time, savoring each kiss, each caress. The outside world faded away, the only reality the cocoon of their embrace, the steady beating of their hearts.
And later, as they lay tangled together, their desires sated and their souls entwined, Beatrice knew that this was just the beginning of a lifetime of moments like these.
Moments of passion and tenderness, of laughter and tears, of the kind of love that could weather any storm and emerge stronger than ever.
She snuggled closer to Kenneth, her head resting on his chest, his heartbeat a soothing lullaby beneath her ear. “I love you,” she whispered, her voice heavy with contentment. “More than words can say.”
Kenneth’s arms tightened around her, his lips brushing the top of her head. “And I love you, Beatrice. With every fiber of my being, every beat of my heart.”
As they drifted off to sleep, secure in the knowledge of their love and the bright future that lay ahead, Beatrice felt a sense of peace wash over her.
This was where she belonged. Here, in the arms of the man she loved, the man who had seen past her secrets and her scars, who loved her wholly and unconditionally.
Kenneth strode through the halls of Dunford Castle, a smile playing on his lips as he sought out his wife. He knew exactly where to find her—the east-facing morning room had becomeBeatrice’s sanctuary, her creative haven where Eric Westback’s latest masterpieces came to life.
As he approached the partially open door, he paused, taking a moment to observe her unnoticed. Sunlight streamed through the large windows, illuminating the room and casting a warm glow on Beatrice as she stood before an easel, her brow furrowed in concentration, her brush moving with confident strokes across the canvas.
The scene before him was a perfect blend of the old and the new—Beatrice, with her swollen belly visible beneath her paint-stained smock, stood amidst the centuries-old grandeur of Dunford Castle. The juxtaposition of her modern artistry against the backdrop of ancient tapestries and family portraits was not lost on Kenneth. His breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight of her.
Her caramel-blonde hair was piled atop her head in a messy bun, tendrils escaping to frame her face. A smudge of blue paint adorned her cheek, and her eyes sparkled with the fire of creation. The large windows of the morning room not only provided ample light for her work but also offered a stunning view of the Dunford estate’s manicured gardens and rolling hills beyond.
To Kenneth, she had never looked more beautiful, more at home in the ancestral seat of the Dukes of Dunford.
The painting before her was a departure from Eric Westback’s earlier works. Gone were the rigid landscapes and formalportraits that had once graced the walls of London’s finest homes. In their place was an explosion of color and emotion, abstract forms that seemed to dance across the canvas, evoking feelings rather than depicting concrete scenes. It was daring, innovative, and utterly breathtaking.
Unable to hold back any longer, Kenneth pushed the door open fully and stepped into the room.
“I do believe Eric Westback has outdone himself this time,” he said softly, his voice echoing slightly in the high-ceilinged room.
Beatrice turned around, her face lighting up at the sight of him. “Kenneth! I didn’t hear you come in.” She set down her brush and palette, moving to meet him.
He enveloped her in his arms, mindful of her swollen belly, and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. The scent of oil paints mingled with her sweet fragrance, a combination he had come to associate with home and happiness.
“I didn’t want to disturb your creative flow, but I couldn’t stay away for long.”
Beatrice laughed, a sound that never failed to warm his heart and seemed to breathe new life into the ancient walls of Dunford Castle. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. Your son or daughter has been quite active today. I think we may have a future dancer on our hands.”
