Page 120 of The SEAL's Duchess
Ivy smiled. “George, this is Ellie, Ryder’s daughter. She’s asking if you live in a castle.”
“Oh.” George bent at the waist in a formal half-bow. “How do you do, Miss Ellie. My house is not quite a castle. But you will be very welcome to visit.” His face softened as he glanced between Ellie and Ivy. “Someday very soon, I should think.”
Ellie beamed. She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the hallway. “Come see room!”
George let himself be towed, glancing back at Ivy with an expression somewhere between panic and helplessness.
“It’s all right,” Ivy called. “She just wants to show you her room.”
“Ah. Of course.”
Ivy followed them down the hall. Diesel trotted along, tail wagging. In Ellie’s room, George made impressed noises at everything Ellie pointed out—the toy kitchen, the stuffed animals lined up on her bed, her crayon drawing of a horse taped to the wall.
Ellie picked a book from the pile on her nightstand and thrust it at George. “Read?”
George accepted the book. “Now?” He glanced at Ivy, brow wrinkled.
“If you’d like.” Ivy motioned for him to sit.
“I would very much.” He turned back to Ellie. “That would be delightful, Miss Ellie.” He sat on the floor, back against the bed frame. Ellie climbed onto his lap without hesitation and George opened to the first page.
Ivy leaned against the doorframe, her heart full to bursting. Formal, reserved George, raised to be a duke before he couldwalk—sitting on a toddler’s bedroom floor reading about a caterpillar who ate too much.
Diesel flopped down beside them with a contented sigh.
This was her family. All of it. Old and new, woven together in ways she’d never imagined only months ago.
Ryder’s arm came around her waist from behind. She leaned back against his chest, felt the soothing rise and fall of his breathing.
“You okay?” His voice was low, just for her.
She nodded. “Better than okay.”
“Come on,” Ryder murmured, planting a kiss on her neck. “Let’s give them some space.”
In the living room. Jack sprawled on the couch, coffee mug in one hand, laptop open on her knees. She looked up. “Where’s George?”
“Reading to Ellie.” Ivy sat beside Jack.
“Huh.” Jack blew on her coffee. “He’s less of a stuffed shirt than I expected.”
“He was terrified in your truck, wasn’t he?”
“Completely. It was beautiful.” Jack grinned. “Man white-knuckled the door handle the entire way. I hit one pothole and thought he was going to cry.”
Ryder snorted.
Jack set her mug down and turned the laptop toward Ivy. “Speaking of—wave power specs came through yesterday. George forwarded them. Wanted your eyes on the coastal erosion data before Thursday’s meeting.”
Ivy scanned the screen. Numbers and projections, environmental impact assessments, cost analyzes. The kind of work that used to feel like an obligation. Now it felt like purpose.
“This looks solid, Jack.”
“It is solid. Your brother knows his stuff.” Jack scrolled down. “We’re meeting with the engineering firm Thursday afternoon. You’re coming, right?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
“Good. I need you there to translate when George talks aboutsustainability matricesandecological paradigm shifts.”
