Page 80 of Claiming His Lost Duchess
“Every word.” Graham’s voice was rough with remembered pain. “Five years of wondering if you were safe, if you were happy, if you had found someone to protect and care for you as you deserved. And now, you are here. Mine. And I have no intention of letting you go.”
They kissed again, softer this time but no less meaningful. Graham poured all of his love, all of his forgiveness, all of his hopes for their future into that single kiss, and felt Joan respond with equal fervor.
He pulled her closer, aching for more of her to taste and lose himself in, trailing kisses from her lips, down her neck.
“Where’s Sophia?” he asked against her jaw, teasingly sinking his teeth into her flesh.
“W-With Margaret. She came to take her after breakfast, so she could spend some time with her cousins,” Joan gasped, her hands braced on her husband’s shoulders.
Graham smiled, eager to consummate the new found stability of their relationship.
He detached himself from Joan, only long enough to rise to his feet and lift her into his arms.
“What do you think about spending the rest of the day exploring the bounds of our love, my beautiful duchess?” he proposed, already carrying her back to the house.
Joan giggled and he swore he’d never heard a more beautiful thing in his life.
“I would love nothing more.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Joan had expected Graham to carry her to her own bedchamber, but instead, he took her directly to his own room, setting her directly onto the bed.
“From now henceforth, this is your room too. I hope that you will spend more time here, than away from me for any reason,” he told her gently as he sank to his knees to take of her shoes.
She smiled at him, reaching out to run her hand through his hair, startled by how… easy it was to be affectionate.
“No more running,” Joan promised.
He smiled up at her, the intensity of his gaze made her feel simultaneously cherished and desired. The intoxicating combination sent heat spiraling through her body as her veins filled with yearning.
“Are you certain?” he asked softly, his dark eyes searching her face with careful attention. “After everything that has passed between us these recent days, I will not press you if you have any doubts whatsoever. We can simply... talk. Hold each other. There is no need for anything more unless you truly wish it.”
The consideration in his voice, the way he put her comfort above his own obvious desire, only reinforced everything Joan had come to understand about this remarkable man she had married. In response, she reached up to cup his face in her hands, marveling at the slight roughness of his jaw beneath her palms and the way his breath caught at her touch.
“I have never been more certain of anything in my entire life,” she whispered, her thumbs tracing the slight swell of his cheekbones. “I want this, Graham. I want you. I want us to truly begin our marriage as it should have begun months ago — with honesty and trust and love.”
His sharp intake of breath was audible in the quiet room, and then his mouth was on hers with a hunger that spoke of days of restraint and careful distance. Joan met his passion with her own newly acknowledged feelings, her body responding to his touch as it always had — as though they were two parts of the same whole that had finally been reunited after far too long apart.
Graham's hands moved to the fastenings of her dress with the practiced ease and she sought to show him that he was just as desired. Her own hands began working at the buttons of his waistcoat and the intricate knots of his cravat, both ofthem laughing softly when their eager efforts became tangled together.
“I have missed you,” Graham murmured against the delicate skin of her throat as her dress pooled around her feet in a mess of green silk. “These past days have been absolute torture — living in the same house, sharing meals, yet feeling as though you were a thousand miles away from me.”
“For me as well,” Joan breathed, her head falling back to give him better access to the sensitive curve of her neck. “I thought perhaps I had ruined everything between us. I was terrified that my words had done damage that could never be repaired.”
“Never,” Graham said with fierce conviction, his hands spanning her waist as he lifted her carefully back onto the high bed. “You could never ruin this, Joan. What we have — what has grown between us — is stronger than any misunderstanding, any moment of doubt.”
The afternoon light filtering through the tall windows cast everything in golden tones, and Joan felt beautiful under Graham's adoring gaze. He worshiped her body with hands and mouth as though she were something sacred, reacquainting himself with every curve and hollow, every place that made her gasp and arch beneath his touch.
But there was something different in his manner today — a reverence mixed with his passion that spoke of deeper emotions than mere physical desire.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmured against her collarbone, his voice rough with want. “So perfect. I still cannot quite believe you are mine.”
“I am yours,” Joan replied, her own hands exploring the familiar rise and dip of his shoulders and back, relearning the feel of him after days of careful separation. “Completely, utterly yours, as you are mine.”
Graham lifted his head to meet her eyes, and Joan saw something vulnerable and almost hesitant in his expression that made her heart clench with tenderness.
“There is something I wish to try,” he said quietly, his voice carrying an uncertainty she had rarely heard from him. “Something we have never done before, but only if... only if you are willing and feel safe with me.”
