Page 110 of When a Duke Loves a Woman
After setting the lantern on a hook, he strode over to her, bracketed his hands on either side of her waist, and smiled. “I didn’t want you to fall in love with me for my wine.”
She wound her arms around his neck. “Never.” Giving him an impish smile, she added, “But it certainly does increase your appeal.”
Lifting her up, he set her on the table, wedged himself between her legs. “I’ve been wondering something all day. Why did you curtsy to my mother at the church?”
She skimmed her hands up into his hair, smiled softly. “Because I decided she was worthy of my curtsy, because she does love you, and because she gave me you.”
“Ah, Gillie, you can so easily drop me to my knees.”
Although it was a bit of a challenge, she managed to get her legs wrapped around him, held him tightly. “I’d rather have you standing. Take me here, take me now. Make me your wife.”
“Princess, in my heart, I think I did that the first time I ever laid eyes on you. I have never felt for any woman what I have felt for you from the beginning.”
He lowered his mouth and poured all that he was into the kiss, into her. He was the finest of wines, the richest of flavors, the most intoxicating of men. And he was hers.
Epilogue
Thornley Castle
1872
Thorne had wanted his first child to be born at his ancestral estate, and Gillie had accommodated his wish. She didn’t have it within her to deny him anything he desired. So now she sat in a massive bed in an elaborately decorated room, in a fresh nightdress, her husband fully clothed, except for his jacket and boots, sitting beside her with his arm around her, her head tucked into the hollow of his shoulder as they both gazed down on the babe she had spent the better part of the night bringing into the world.
The child had arrived with the last song of the nightingale, the first trill of the lark.
“Trust you to not even be able to properly bring a child into the world,” the dowager duchess said with a sniff, standing near the foot of the bed. “Your husband is a duke. Your first order of business is to give him an heir.”
“I find no fault with my daughter, Mother,” Thorne said patiently, and Gillie heard in his voice the love he already harbored for their child, her tiny hand wrapped snugly around the finger he had offered to her.
“With that shock of red hair, she will have to constantly wear a hat lest she be burdened with freckles,” his mother said.
“She will have an assortment of hats,” Gillie assured her. “And frocks and trousers.”
“Trousers?” The duchess sounded truly horrified.
Gillie, wicked girl that she was, did so enjoy the moments when she appalled the duchess with her observations and comments. In the months since her marriage, the two of them had come to an understanding—neither was going to change for the other and so they had accepted, not quite grudgingly, that harmony between them was better than rancor. “She will be chasing after her brothers or they will be chasing after her.”
“You are not so young that you can delay overly long seeing to your duty.”
“You need not worry, Duchess, as I am most eager to welcome my husband back into my bed.”
“And you—” The duchess pointed at her son. “You are not to look elsewhere while your wife is indisposed. She is deserving of your loyalty.”
He pressed a kiss to her temple. “She is deserving of everything.”
“Still, I do wish you would give up that deplorable tavern.”
In the end, Gillie had moved into Coventry House because she wanted their children to know of their ancestors, and she had fallen in love with the residence. Each morning, she would ride in a coach to the tavern, but was actually spending fewer hours there as she was discovering being a duchess brought with it many duties she truly enjoyed, mostly charitable works and visiting with tenants, ensuring servants were happy. Often Thorne took Robin on outings. They’d discussed making the lad part of their family, but Robin was convinced his mother would someday come for him.
“Gillie enjoys her tavern, Mother, and as long as she does, we will keep it.”
“Actually I was thinking of opening another,” she said.
“Dear Lord. Then you must hire a nanny.”
She stroked her daughter’s cheek. “I was raised without a nanny and I turned out all right.”
“More than all right,” the duchess admitted. “But that is not the point.”
