Page 82 of Claiming His Lost Duchess
The praise sent Joan's confidence soaring higher, and she found herself moving with increasing boldness, taking her own pleasure while driving Graham to heights of sensation that had him calling her name like a prayer. When release finally claimed them both, it was with an intensity that left them shaking and breathless, bound together by more than physical satisfaction— connected by trust and love and the kind of intimate understanding that came only through complete vulnerability.
Afterward, when Graham had freed Joan from her bonds and they lay entwined in the rumpled bed sheets, he pulled her close against his side with arms that trembled slightly with lingering emotion.
“That was...” he began, then seemed to lose the words entirely.
“Unexpected,” Joan finished with a soft laugh, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. “But wonderful. I felt so... powerful. Is that terribly improper of me to admit?”
“It is perfect,” Graham replied, catching her wandering hand and pressing a kiss to her palm. “You should always feel powerful in our marriage, Joan. You should know that you have the ability to bring me to my knees with nothing more than a look, a touch, a word of love.”
Joan felt heat rise in her cheeks at the intensity of his words. “I never imagined I could affect you so strongly.”
“You affect me more than you know,” Graham said seriously, turning his head to look at her directly. “Your strength, your gentleness with Sophia, the way you have carved out a place for yourself in society despite every obstacle placed in your path — all of it amazes me daily.”
They talked quietly as the afternoon sun slanted lower through the windows, sharing thoughts and feelings that had been too dangerous to voice during the uncertain days of their estrangement. Joan found herself opening her heart completely for the first time in her life, sharing fears and dreams and hopes for their future that she had never dared speak aloud.
“I want to have more children with you. I want Sophia to have siblings and I want our family to grow even more. Is that too great a wish to make?” she asked quietly, looking into his eyes.
“Absolutely not. I think it is perfectly reasonable — especially since I have also dreamed of a much bigger family with you. But do not worry, we have the rest of our lives to figure everything out, one step at a time,” Graham told her gently, urging her to rest her head against his chest.
They dozed then, wrapped in each other's arms as the afternoon sun gradually faded toward evening. Joan had never felt so completely at peace, so perfectly content with her place in the world.
This was how marriage was supposed to feel, she realized — not like a careful negotiation between strangers, but like coming home to the other half of one's soul.
She woke gradually to the sound of Graham's quiet laughter, opening her eyes to find him propped on one elbow beside her, his free hand gently stroking her hair with movements so tender they made her heart ache with love.
“Good evening, sleepyhead,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead that felt like both greeting and benediction.
“Have I been asleep long?” Joan asked, stretching languidly against the soft sheets. Her body felt pleasantly used, every muscle relaxed and satisfied in a way that spoke of thorough and careful loving.
“Long enough for me to watch you sleep and count myself the most fortunate man in all of England,” Graham replied, his eyes tender as he studied her face. “You look so peaceful when you rest — younger somehow, as though all the cares of the world have been lifted from your shoulders.”
Joan's heart swelled with love for this man who could say such things without a trace of embarrassment or artifice. She reached up to cup his face in her hand, her thumb tracing the familiar line of his cheekbone.
“I feel peaceful,” she admitted. “For the first time in years, perhaps for the first time in my entire life, I feel completely safe and loved and... home. You have given me that, Graham. You have given me a home.”
“You have given me the same,” Graham replied, catching her hand and pressing it flat against his chest, where his heart beat strong and steady beneath her palm. “Before you, this house was merely a place I resided. You and Sophia have made it a true home — filled with laughter and love and all the things I never dared hope for.”
Joan felt tears prick her eyes at the sincerity in his voice. “When I think of how close we came to losing this... how my fears and insecurities nearly destroyed the most precious thing in my life...”
“But they did not destroy it,” Graham said firmly, his other hand moving to rest over her belly where their child grew. “We found our way back to each other, and we are stronger now for having weathered the storm. Our love has been tested and proven true.”
They might have continued talking for hours, sharing all the thoughts and feelings that had been suppressed during their difficult days, but they were interrupted by the sound of rapid footsteps in the corridor outside, followed by an enthusiastic knocking at the door.
“Papa? Mama?” Sophia's voice called out, bright with excitement and completely oblivious to any considerations of privacy or propriety. “Aunt Margaret says I am to come find you because it is nearly time for dinner, and Cook has made my favorite pudding!”
Joan's eyes widened in sudden panic as she realized their state of undress and the thoroughly rumpled condition of Graham's bed. They certainly could not receive their daughter in such circumstances, yet Sophia was clearly expecting an immediate response.
Graham, however, seemed far less concerned about their situation. He merely chuckled and called back,
“One moment, poppet! We shall meet you in the dining room very shortly.”
They heard the patter of small feet retreating down the corridor, presumably toward the nursery where Sophia would no doubt regale her governess with tales of her afternoon adventures with her cousins. Joan buried her face against Graham's chest, half-laughing and half-mortified at how close they had come to a most improper discovery.
“She will wonder what we have been up to all afternoon,” Joan said, her voice muffled against his skin. “What possible story would be acceptable for our curious little princess?”
“We shall tell her we were having an important discussion about our family's future,” Graham replied practically, his fingers combing through her tangled hair with gentle patience. “Which is perfectly true, in its way. We simply need not elaborate on all the details of said discussion.”
Joan lifted her head to look at him, struck anew by how handsome he was and how completely, thoroughly hers. “You have an answer for everything, do you not?”
