Page 64 of The SEAL's Duchess
The quiet conviction in his voice undid her more than any grand gesture. Her chest tightened, her pulse tripping.
When his mouth covered hers, there was nothing tentative about it. His touch anchored her, his thumb pressing against the base of her skull as his lips moved over hers with an insistence that left her clinging to him.
He pulled away just far enough to see her face, his kiss less a goodbye than a promise of more. “Now. Let’s go find out about this geology report.”
Twenty minutes later,they were in his truck. The heater blasted, warm air fogging the windshield edges. Still, a chill settled deep in her bones.
Ellie’s car seat in the back caught her eye in the rear-view mirror—a tiny anchor to everything real about him.
This wasn’t just about her and Ryder. It was about the little girl who’d already lost one woman. A responsibility she could never take lightly.
She glanced sideways at Ryder, his profile all focus and quiet strength, and her stomach twisted with something she couldn’t name.
She’d never been in a relationship that lasted more than a few months. Had never felt for anyone what she felt for Ryder. This was uncharted territory, and she had no idea if she was equipped to navigate it without causing damage to the people she was starting to care about.
“You’re quiet.” Ryder glanced over at her. “I overheard. You didn’t tell George the truth.”
“Why worry him needlessly?”
“Maybe you’re so used to handling everything alone, you don’t know how to let people in.” His pulse beat in his temple.
His words stung. “Ryder?—”
“Someone should worry about you, Ivy.”
Her throat closed, her pulse a frantic flutter under her skin. She’d spent years being the one who worried—never the one worth worrying about.
“Someone has to hold it all together?—”
“Yeah.” He reached over and covered her hand with his, fingers warm and solid against her skin. The weight of him pinned her to the moment, breath shuddering in and out of her chest. “It doesn’t always have to be you.”
His statement shouldn’t have affected her, but it landed in a place she’d kept carefully armored for years. The place whereshe stored all the exhaustion from being everyone’s solution, everyone’s go-to person when things went wrong.
“It’s not that simple.” She offered him what she hoped was a reassuring smile.
“Isn’t it?”
She wanted to argue, to explain about duty and responsibility and how the estate would have foundered years ago if someone hadn’t stepped up to manage every crisis. “George needs help to run the estate.”
“The goddamn Duke of Lambourne,” he muttered, releasing her hand to steer.
Ivy smiled. “He is that.”
“How come you’re not a duchess?”
She huffed a laugh. “You can only be a duchess through marriage. Lovely bit of medieval nonsense that somehow survived into the twenty-first century.”
Ryder was quiet for a beat, then glanced at her—a half-smile slanting across his mouth. “Well, you’re my duchess.”
His words shouldn’t have punched as hard as they did, but warmth bloomed through her chest, stealing her voice.
“Ryder…” It came out a scant whisper.
He wasn’t talking about titles. He was talking about belonging.
“I know,” he breathed. “I know it’s complicated.”
She was falling for a man an ocean away, a man with a daughter and a past he didn’t talk about. Complicated barely scratched the surface.
